Moral to the Story

Blood, sweat, water, and the delicate florals of his quarry. The God-Prince Ultyr stepped through the thick pines and underbrush, swathed in the mists of the towering waterfall.

He halted as a billow of fog swept over a huddled form in the water. Revealing the ragged freshly skinned wolf coat of someone perhaps familiar to the learned prince. Though his care for that someone was nil as the form beneath it held his attention. Stock still, his breath shallow as he measured the hidden body. It was her, he knew it. A Judilan Princess...out here... all alone. He could scent no others. Was that... a shade of pink in her coat? Could it be? The crown princess herself? Could he be so lucky?

Slowly, so as not to startle her, he crept forward. He heard the soft words from her mouth, the tone in her voice sparked a familiar cue that made him freeze.

He had a choice here...

"That you did what you had to do..." He rumbled neutrally. Daring to speak before she was in reach. Lailah perhaps just then catching up to him. She had become lazy of late.

He stood tall in the coiling fog, his eyes of fire readily drinking the Judilan royal he had finally found.