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As Ancient Oak guided the great horse unerringly through the dense woodland; cantering along narrow paths until they disappeared, threading between small gaps in apparently impenetrable copses, and picking his way through tall straggly bushes, it became borne upon Tarkyn that his woodfolk had been right. The advantage of a competent guide far outweighed the disadvantage of the extra weight that the horse had to carry. After half an hour he leaned forward and murmured in Ancient Oak’s ear, “Once more, you have risked my ire by directing my actions… and yet I have to admit that each time, your advice has been excellent.”
Tarkyn heard a quiet chuckle from his bloodbrother, “Tarkyn, you may be a prince but you are also my younger brother. I have no qualms about facing your anger.” He paus
