His horse wore unique shoes and being a heavy horse, it had left deep imprints. Why the hunting party had failed to notice and follow the trail was beyond her. Unless they had deliberately tried to lose the prince, which would certainly be an act agreeable to many. The prince was boorish and spoiled. And wasteful. Good Lord, the man was wasteful. Sigyn had seen him toss unfinished fruit aside and leave purchased meals at the pub uneaten whilst he played dice with his captains. She hated arrogant, wasteful men. Unfortunately, her only suitors had been dirt-poor or covetous braggarts. This trek was to ensure she would never need a man’s strength, wealth or prowess. Rather to live alone than be subjugated by a man. The trail led deep into the forest. She knew what waited for her, hiding behind tree trunks and blending in with leaves and twigs. Disagreeable, treacherous fairy folk loved to torment the lost or those using the forest to hide their sins. Sigyn scanned the edge of the forest for an oak tree.
