PRINCESS wasn’t being cautious at all. She doesn’t have any experience being hunted by someone after all. Consequently, tracking her was disappointingly easy. Footprints left in the ground, traces of branches broken in the thicket, leaves shredded underfoot everywhere. And her little hands had picked white flowers. They’re white clovers. I didn’t notice them when we passed through yesterday, but I should’ve considering how hard I kept my eyes trained on the ground.
“She’s walkin’ pretty far for someone raised in a castle.”
“She is quite the active little princess. Truly a promising start for a hatchling of high breeding.”
I stored the resonance scale in my left chest pocket. Usually it’s where a knight keeps his lucky charm, something like a handkerchief he’s received from a fine lady or a lock of his lover’s hair. For better or worse, the spot closest to my heart has been empty for a long time now.
“How’s my horse doing?”
“You needn’t worry. He’s leisurely munching on grass and fertilizing the forest.”
I left Buttercup at the base of the Millennial Tree, since it’s the safest place here. He’s not as big as the dragon, but he’s a large horse with thick legs.
“Tch.” Princess’ tracks end abruptly. Her footprints disappear so suddenly, it’s almost as if she disappeared into thin air.
“What is wrong?”
“Her tracks are gone.” I lift my head and scan the area. There has to be a reason for this. “She stopped here once. Stayed here for a long time too. And then from there—ah.”
My eyes stop on a blackberry bush. Several branches are broken, and the breaks are still fresh.
“Birdies ate the fruit, flew to the castle gardens, and dropped the seeds.”
“How?”
“Well, can’t tell ya that…”
“You’re making fun of me.”
Chances are, that banal conversation was the only fun memory that kid made yesterday.
“Take a closer look at those branches.”
“These? She probably ate the blackberries. I taught her that they’re edible yesterday.”
“She’s a clever child. But that is not what is important right now.”
I shove my face into the branches and carefully examine them. Ugh, as much as I hate to admit it, Dragon is right. Several strands of hair are entangled around the broken branches. Curly, long, golden hairs.
“These are definitely not Princess’.”
“Indeed. They are not even human hairs.”
“They aren’t?”
“Let me show you what I see.”
My vision blurs. A transparent vision instantly ripples across my sight, spreading and transforming the world as it thickens.
“What is this?”
Around the golden hair—or more like around the broken branches and in the shredded leaves—a peculiar smoke is coiling. The color changes when I adjust my point of view. It looks like every color and no color all at once. But it feels far too suspicious and sinister to call rainbow-colored. If I gotta liken it to somethin’, it’s like oil floating in water. That’s the closest example I can think of from what I know. Runnin’ with that analogy, it’s like oil from a tailor’s shop after a long commission of dyeing clothes being poured into a muddy, grotesque puddle of water.
“It’s the traces of a Daemon. A Daemon kidnapped Princess. Their kind can soar through the skies, you see.”
“That’s not funny!”
Right when I’m thankful it’s not our hunters, it’s the Daemon Clan?!
“You needn’t worry. I know them. I have an idea of where he’s going.”
“I’m grateful then.”
I clench my fists and gnash my teeth together. Else I couldn’t hold back my violent feelings. I’m FURIOUS!
“Then, we’re gonna crash his place right this instant and drag Princess outta there by the scruff of her neck, yeah?”
“Precisely.”
FLAP! I hear wings spreading. A gigantic shadow obstructs the sunlight, soaring towards me. When’d he take flight? When’d he arrive? Apparently, I was too enraged to notice.
“Get on. Your steed is a fine specimen, but he doesn’t have wings.” Dragon bends his legs and lowers himself to the ground.
“You okay with that?”
“We are in a race against time.”
“……”
Now this is one funny joke. Tavern goers and wenches would burst out laughin’ to hear about a dragon letting a knight ride on his back. He’s clearly also unhappy with the idea. The scale next to my heart is conveying displeasure with an indescribable irritation.
“It’s for the princess, Knight.”
“Yeah, for Princess.”
We say it aloud to convince ourselves—both me and him.