The forest was old.
The trees were tall. Thick. Their trunks were dark with moss. Their branches were tangled— a canopy of green so dense that the sunlight that filtered through was green. Not golden. Green. The light of a place that has not been touched by humans in a hundred years.
The road ran through it.
A carriage was on the road.
It was beautiful. White. Gold-trimmed. The wheels were spoked. The horses— four of them— were white. Their manes were braided. Their harnesses were gold. The carriage bore a crest on the door— a golden stag on a field of emerald. The crest of the Emerald Duchy. The crest of a royal house.
The Princess was inside.
