Lapping Water carried the empty skin bag down to the stream and walked along a little way looking for a place where she could easily draw clear water. The morning sky was heavy with dark, rolling clouds and the stream had swollen with overnight rain. She pushed past a bush growing close to the water’s edge and found herself standing only feet away from the prince, who was seated on the bank.
When Tarkyn started and looked around, clearly discomforted, Lapping Water stepped back and prepared to withdraw.
“I beg your pardon, my lord,” said the woodwoman nervously, “I did not mean to intrude.”
Tarkyn reddened and held out his left hand, which was trailing his bandage, in a restraining gesture. “No. Please don’t go. I was just fiddling with this bandage and trying to get it back on.” He loo
