On the fifth day after Tarkyn’s confrontation with the forestals, the last of the woodfolk arrived. Tarkyn had been cajoled by Rainstorm into helping him gather firewood after lunch. As they walked between towering chestnut trees, the prince said firmly, “Just don’t come to expect this. I do it because I enjoy your company and it gives me an excuse to get away for a while.”
Rainstorm grinned, not at all abashed. “Understood, Your Highness.” Just as he reached to break off a dry branch, the young woodman went still for a moment. Then, in response to a distant request, he continued as though nothing had happened.
Minutes later a woodman came into view, walking towards them from the direction of the clearing. As he drew nearer, Tarkyn recognised him as Ancient Oak, the woodman who had sat w
