When Daemon was tall enough to climb a tree on his own, he used to sit under a maple shade and stare at the branches and leaves. Eventually, he would doze off until the sunset or some passerby scoundrel poked him. His mother would scold him for doing that, but he would repeat it anyhow since he was not permitted to climb the tree.
It was a busy day in the court as no scoundrels were around. Daemon's dream was beginning. Even when he was dozing off, he had this smirk of satisfaction on his lips.
The sunny weather blessed his nap.
Until a lady who ran away from the court tripped in front of him and crashed her face on the ground. He opened one eye for a glance, and she did not move for the time being.
She can't be dead. Daemon straightened himself and peeked.
