"There I was speeding past the sleeping trees in the middle of the night, or day? I wasn't sure, as the woods were pitch black due to the thick forest canopy blocking out any light from the sky. In that pitch-black darkness, my only aid was my heightened senses—scent, smell, hearing, and touch—everything amped up to 101%.The ancient woodlands stretched as far as my eyes could see in every direction, the tangled trees and gnarled roots forming an endless maze. I had travelled for days across the merciless Lake Longg with neither food nor rest. My body begged to stop, each step heavier than the last as if stones weighed down my aching feet. Yet some inner fire, fuelled by the pride of my noble ancestors, compelled me onward on my conquest.
The woods were teeming with exotic insects, their chirps and calls echoing between the towering trees. Strange mutapods in every shape and size crawled across the spongy forest floor and hung suspended from the twisting branches. Some had bodies like worms, others armored shells like beetles, while still more were so bizarre they defied any earthly form.
The chorus of crickets and other mutapods was oddly soothing. It was as if the ancient balladeers of the Blue Mist Valley were singing a divine ode welcoming the heiress of Haremosa to these unknown foreign lands.
The chorus lent me strength, each notes a soothing balm to my exhausted mind and limbs. As I stumbled on through the alien woodland, I imagined those legendary heroes were cheering my own humble journey. With renewed vigour I pressed forward, their imagined voices drowning out the protests of my battered feet.
Lost in thought, my brisk pace slowed to a leisurely stroll as I reflected on my arduous journey across the vast Lake Longg. The forest air was rich with exotic blooms, their sweet perfume riding on the gentle breeze to soothe my weary mind.
Though foreign, this land held its own beauty. The verdant trees cocooned me in quiet solace, emerald leaves fluttering overhead to filter the light into dancing shadows. Curling vines heavy with vibrant flowers wrapped the ancient trunks in a loving embrace. Their blossoms were unfamiliar shapes and vivid hues I had never laid eyes upon before. Yet their fragrance stirred something within me - a sense of hope reborn.
In the distance, a pack of shadows crept toward me, their shapes blurred but growing larger by the second. At first, I wondered if they were friendly spirits inhabiting this strange land. But as the figures neared, their hungry snarls revealed the truth - these were no friendly spirits but vicious beasts stalking their prey.
My breath caught in my throat as I saw slavering jaws and razor claws. These monsters meant to make a meal of my tender flesh! I sprang into action, panic and adrenaline flooding my veins as my feet barely touched the earth. Mighty kicks propelled me aloft as I dashed away in earnest. I hurdled thorny bushes and wove between gnarled trunks, the ravenous pack closing in behind. My legs burned but I pushed on at breakneck speed, the forest a green blur around me.
Alas, only if I had my trustworthy blade I would have slaughtered these fiends mercilessly.
It was a chase, my mind was in a flurry of thoughts as I started planning for my next genius move. The ferals were not giving up even after I jolted past a dozen shrubs and trees. They had no signs of slowing down, they started picking up their pace each time I accelerated.
No wonder my father had advised that the most dangerous of beasts were the mutations. They evolved according to their adversary. The stronger the adversary, the stronger they tried to be.
But, in the end, it was only an imitation of a fraction of my might. I am a princess after all. if I had enough stamina I could have activated the 'armlets of brawn' my sacred treasure.
With all odds against me, the blessings of Tonlon; the thought of Lodin never left my side. The dragonod of wind guided me through the danger. 'Praise be the wind'.
Hours must have gone by, maybe even a cycle of the moon, and my fuel was almost running empty. I knew I had to do something to get myself out of this fit. I was cooking up strategies that would have definitely resulted in my victory.
'Boom' that's when the sound of gunfire alerted me but it managed to chase away those ferals.
Fate as it may, I'm so glad that you appeared in the nick of time with your gun to chase away those fiends before I could take matters into my own hands…"
A crackling fire cast its warmth over the odd pair of travelers. One was a young Bunian princess, her fuzzy skin lively and eyes glinting as she gesticulated wildly. Her audience was an elderly Deerman hunter, weathered face creased with patience as he listened to the girl's ceaseless chatter.
She seemed keenly unaware of anything but the story spilling enthusiastically from her own lips. The princess was absorbed in her dramatic tale, reliving each narrow escape with girlish glee. In her small hands, she clutched a battered can, its faded label marked 'Rogers Baked Beans'. Its contents long devoured, it served as her prop as she dramatized the journey's perils.
The firelight illuminated her scarlet dress, the fine silks now tattered and travel-worn. Long rips and jagged claw marks told of her run-in with vile beasts. Her formerly pristine fur coat was mattered and unkempt, marred by the violence of fang and thorn. Yet still her eyes sparkled with spirit, her royal blood keeping fear and fatigue at bay.
She entertained her stoic companion with the woeful epic, safe for now in the fire's glow. As the flames danced, her shadow stretched tall, momentarily transforming the bedraggled girl into a powerful heroine without equal. To her, the hunter was a mere commoner, and she didn't feel like he owed her anything.
"Say....What was your name again, Deerman?
"Ainsley Buckfinnan," the old man gently answered with a smile.
"Yum, yum yum this is such delicious cuisine ... I forgot to introduce my royal self! My name is Yuna Wishvel, the second princess of Haremosa and the daughter of the mighty king Rabagar. Now, the rightful heir to the biggest kingdom in all of the Red Nations."
"Yum yum!" Yuna was stuffing her little puffy cheeks with the soup from her can. She had the same amount of energy as any other young teenage princess of her age of 13 or 14.
Back home, Yuna had only ever eaten the freshest produce, artfully prepared by castle chefs. Canned goods were never served in the royal court - they were considered coarse fare for peasants. This "Rogers Baked Beans" was her first taste of commoners' food. The humble can of beans was a novelty to the sheltered princess. Though a bit mystified by its plain tin trappings, she found the contents inside oddly delightful. It was a simple pleasure her privileged life had kept out of reach. She savored the beans eagerly, their hearty flavor a revelation after a lifetime of ornate feasts. For once, Yuna didn't mind partaking as a commoner would. The humble meal filled her belly and an unfamiliar contentment.
"Shay...whashe the name of thish dish?" Yuna managed to mumble, her puffed cheeks stuffed with beans.
Ainsley smiled kindly at the gluttonous princess. "It's called Rogers Fresh Bean Soup, my dear."
The princess gulped loudly. "Wowiee! This Roger must be royalty like me if he has a dish named after him!"
She paused her ravenous feast just long enough to declare, "Haha, a meal fit for a princess! Yum yum yum!"
With that, Yuna dove back in snout-first, not even noticing as she devoured Ainsley's portion too. The old hunter didn't mind in the slightest. He knew the poor girl desperately needed the nourishment after her harrowing journey.
For two days now, Yuna had been fleeing the onslaught of the Rot. Her original escort, the mighty Valiant Blades, had vanished during their arduous crossing of the vast lake. Only the princess had emerged from those treacherous waters.
Exhausted, Yuna declared, "I'm going to rest now, hunter. Guard this tent with your life!"
The seventy-year-old Ainsley simply smiled and nodded. "Of course, Your Highness. Sleep well."
Yuna crawled into the small tent near the fire, collapsing gratefully onto the threadbare bedroll. Within moments, she was snoring loudly.
Ainsley kept watch over the princess' tent, ever alert. He sensed she was not telling the full tale of how a royal girl came to be alone and bedraggled in this harsh wilderness. But the patient hunter knew not to pry. Her journey was her own, and he was simply glad to provide aid.
For now, she deserved peaceful rest. Ainsley tended the crackling fire, its warmth keeping the encroaching night at bay.