After leaving Sage’s retiree village, we had traveled in the direction of the mountain as he had advised. We had a few hours left of daylight, and we made sure not to waste it, energized by our encouragement from Sage and from his gifts. Our camping packs gave us the confidence to go forward and to know that we had the tools to survive our journey. As the sun had washed the path in front of us in an orange light, we had pushed ahead until we could go no further, exhaustion taking its toll on us. Just like the night before, we’d found a small clearing off of the main roads in the trees and made camp. The only difference was this time we had proper bedding. Sleep came swiftly to us once more, nodding off to the sounds of forest creatures lulling us into rest.

We woke with the sun, as well rested as could be expected, and readied ourselves for the day. Tom was even more energetic than I was, his natural morning enthusiasm eclipsing my excitement by far. He waited at the edge of the trees as I gathered the last of my things and ate a quick snack of field rations. They tasted better than Tom’s musty ones that he had brought.

Last night we had still traveled in our disguises that we’d snagged from the palace, but they were becoming too dirty, sweaty, and overall, disgusting. I felt thankful that Sage had gifted us with clean clothes as I pulled out the generic adjustable leggings and oversized shirts that were common among those who worked the land. Still chewing the field rations, I ducked behind a heavy tree, tossing off the stinky, old clothes, and throwing on the new ones as fast as I could. Preferably, I would bathe too, but there was no source of water to be found just yet.

“Ready?” he asked, his head tilted in the direction of the main road.

I nodded at him with my mouth still full of hard bread. I followed him, meeting him on the road. We walked in silence for a little while, watching the sun rise slowly and lazily across the horizon, following the road’s twists and turns through the forest and over the hills. In the distance, the mountains beckoned us, as if they knew they were part of our destination. Each step took us closer, I knew, but they looked so far off it was almost disheartening to realize how small each step was.

Eventually, the forest gave out to fields, with a medium sized river carving its way through the countryside. I admired its curves, the way I could see the water rushing through, eager to follow its own path. The road intersected the river more than once, as the road had straightened over the flatter terrain. I spied a bridge up ahead, not too far out of the forest that we had just left behind. Part of me ached to stop and take a dip in that refreshing, cool water. The day’s heat was growing steadily as the sun rose in the sky, shining down on us through a cloudless blue, and it would feel heavenly to wash off the grime of the last few days.

“So…” I said, the question that I’d been stewing on finally put into words. “Why were you kicked out of the Guild?”

Tom kicked a stone instead of answering immediately. “It’s… not fun to talk about.”

“Ah, I’m sure,” I said quickly. “You don’t have to tell me. But it might help to get it out there.”

Tom sighed. “Maybe you’re right,” he said, kicking another stone. “As long as you still promise to help me.”

“I already promised, didn’t I?”

He looked up at me with hope in his eyes. He turned away to stare at the stone he’d kicked, skittering down the path. “I kept failing the novice test. My mother wouldn’t let me stay.”

“Your mother?”

“Yeah, we don’t have the best relationship,” he said with a heaviness in his words. “She… she’s on the elder council. My father was too. Her expectations were high, and I’d failed every single one of them. So, she kicked me out.”

“Oh.” That was all I could think to say. How do you respond to that?

“I know I’m a failure. I’ve come to terms with that. But while I wanted to be the Demon Hunter she dreamed I’d become, I always thought if I didn’t, I’d be allowed to be something to the guild. Be a cook, or a servant, or something. Not this.”

“I’m…sorry,” I said, surprising myself with the sincerity of my words. I truly did feel sorry for him.

“It’s okay. At least I always had Old Sage growing up. We used to visit the retiree village every now and then, and he was always nice to me. Mom didn’t like him, though. Never would say why.”

I nodded, unsure of what else I could add. At least that explained how he and Sage acted together, like grandson and grandfather. He probably saw Sage as the parental figure he didn’t have. He didn’t say more about his father, and I wondered what had happened to him. Was he still around? I didn’t want to ask and make darker a moment that was already so bleak.

“Why were you by yourself in a café the other day?” he asked suddenly, changing the topic.

I smiled. “That’s my favorite place in the city. I like to go there to escape. I lose my guards when I sneak out of the castle, and I go there and get lost in a book.” Again, I surprised myself. I never admitted that to anyone else. Not that I’d had anyone to admit that to. If my mother knew, she’d just figure out a way to stop me. And it wasn’t like I had any friends. Anyone that tried to get close to me was really just trying to use me to elevate themselves. It was hard to forge genuine relationships when you were a princess. Although, recent events had me doubting what my position even was. I decided not to dwell on that; I could worry about my personal status later.

“Do you not like being a princess?” he asked, astounded.

“Not really,” I admitted. “Politics are… exhausting, at best.” I walked a few steps further before continuing. “If what the messenger said is true, and my mother – or whoever she is to me – has a son, and I’m some sort of hostage, then he should be the true heir, not me. Whatever happens next, at least I won’t have to rule the country.”

“So, why the café?”

“Why not? It’s cozy, the drinks are good, and they know me there as Callie the Regular, not Her Royal Highness Princess Callisto.”

“I get that,” he said. Tom didn’t say anything else for a minute, our feet crunching the dirt below as the only sound. “I’m sorry I ruined your escape,” he said quietly.

I looked up at him in surprise.

The sounds of hoofbeats slapping against the ground, the clank of armor and swords rattling in their scabbards came from the direction of the forest.

The royal guard!

“Oh shit!” I shouted. Panic filled me. We were still a fair distance away, but we were on foot, and they had their horses. They had to have seen us, and there was nowhere to hide.

“The bridge!” he shouted, pointing ahead as we began to run.

The bridge that had been far ahead was now within running distance, beckoning us with shade and coverage. Our lungs heaved and burned as our feet pounded the earth below, taking us closer and closer to the hiding spot.

“Go, go!” Tom said as we reached the bridge. He shoved me to the side and practically threw me into the river.

I scrambled down the bank and under the bridge, feeling like a troll. I covered myself in muck and broken foliage as quickly as I could. I had to be unrecognizable, wearing these odd clothes, covered in dirt and mud, and sunburnt skin. Just to make sure I really didn’t look like a princess, I smeared more moss and mud on myself, the cool water of the river lapping around my waist under the shadow of the bridge.

The hoofbeats a staccato crescendo, they suddenly stopped on the cobble stone of the bridge. They had reached us.

“Halt, citizen!” shouted a guard. Tom was still up there; they must be addressing him.

I shivered, partially from the cold, and partially from fear. I smattered leaves across my face and hair, sticking to the mud. I felt more like a swamp witch than a princess, and I hoped I looked like one, too.

“A royal guard is speaking to you, peasant,” reminded the guard haughtily when Tom didn’t answer. “Have you seen the Princess Callisto?”

“The who?” asked Tom in a higher pitched voice than usual.

There was a pause where the guard was surely wondering if he was speaking to a simpleton.

“…The princess of this country, good man. She’s in danger.”

“Well, what’s she look like?”

“Short black hair, pale skin. Very petite, almost child-like in stature,” listed the guard, droning off the basics of my appearance.

I bristled at child-like. I was an adult, twenty years old! Never mind the fact that I had no curves to speak of and was shorter than everyone else I knew.

I heard Tom scratching his head as if deep in thought. “Er, don’t think I’ve seen anyone like that.”

“What about your friend under the bridge? Have they seen her?”

I stiffened. I’d hoped they hadn’t seen me, but apparently, they had. I closed my eyes, wishing and hoping that my current disguise of grime was enough. I shoved my hands deep into the water to grab handfuls of mud and hastily slicked my bangs back just in case, then slowly began to climb back out onto the slippery bank.

“Who, me?” I asked, glancing up at the guard.

They weren’t the usual ones I interacted with; these were a group of young men, barely my age. They probably hadn’t been guards very long, possibly just promoted to boost the queen’s forces and widen the search. It boded well in the moment, but not in the long run. It meant that the Queen was determined to find me.

The guards looked down at me, obviously disturbed by my appearance. It didn’t look like they recognized me. We stared at each other for a moment.

A frog croaked right next to my ear. It wriggled out from beneath the pounds of mud I’d caked onto my hair, squirmed to the top of my head, and croaked once more, perched lightly on the mud. I could feel its little frog toes balancing just so. I blinked rapidly, trying my best to keep a poker face.

The guards, now even more disturbed, just shook their heads and sighed in disappointment.

“If you happen to see her, please send her towards the palace. Her mother is desperate for her return.”

We nodded enthusiastically. The frog croaked again, as if agreeing as well.

The guards ushered their mounts to continue, the horses trotting across the stony bridge and further down the main roads, forever on their search. I exhaled deeply watching them go away, the oxygen a little easier to intake with every second I watched their forms fade into the distance.

Tom’s jaw had fallen slack. “That was… close,” he said. “How on earth did they not recognize you?”

I shrugged. “I don’t wear a mud mask every day,” I said, the frog still doing its balancing act on top of my head. “And they were new. I’d never seen them before.”

Tom’s eyes flitted to the frog. “I think your new friend threw them off.”

I fought a giggle. “Sane people do tend to ignore crazy. Do I look like a swamp witch?”

The laughter I was fighting to hold back broke through in Tom. The giggles turned to full out belly laughs, as he bent over, guffawing. In between gasps of air, he managed to get out, “Complete with a froggy familiar, your highness.”

I couldn’t help but join in, his amusement was infectious. And it really was funny. I wish I could’ve seen myself from the guards’ perspective. Imagine trying to question someone with an impromptu frog appearance on their person.

Still giggling, I carefully extracted the frog from my head, freeing his little toes from the tangles of my muddy hair, and set him down gracefully on the bank. He croaked in goodbye before hopping away back into the muck, eager to return to whatever frog business he had to attend to.

“I’m washing off the gross,” I said, having deposited the frog back in his home.

I slid back down into the river and began to scrub, the mud sloshing off of me and floating down the shallow river. Tom slid down into the river as well and began to soak a few feet away, enjoying the refreshing water after our arduous journey.

When we were done, we both climbed back onto the road on the other side of the bridge, this time soaking wet and dripping onto the dirt below. But it was still an improvement. The sun was high in the sky, and the weather was warm, so it wouldn’t be long before we dried naturally. My wet feet squelched in my boots, pressing out water with every step.

“Yuck,” I said, sticking my tongue out.

Soggy feet were uncomfortable, but it would have to do. We continued on, squelching feet following one step after another.

“Look,” Tom said, pointing ahead to a spot on the main roads.

I couldn’t see what he was pointing at, all that was ahead was the mountain range in the distance. “Look at what?”

“There’s the crossroads, I think.” He stopped to pull out a very soggy map from his pocket, the one that Sage had given us. Fortunately, the paper was mostly fabric, and remained unruined. It was meant for rugged travel, apparently. “If we turn there, it’ll lead us right to the entrance through the mountains. There’s even a town to stop in on the way.”

“I guess I’ll take your word for it, map-master.”

He smiled at me, a crooked grin that spoke of mischief and genuine amusement. We traveled onwards, leaving dark watery footprints behind in the dirt.