Tombstone in the Moonlight

​ One Week Later After treatment by the court physician, my physical injuries healed quickly. I felt it was time to leave the palace. I thought I should bid Prince William good-bye in person, but I have not seen him since that day. Perhaps he has already forgotten me. Perhaps I should have slipped away as quietly as if I had never been here. So I packed up my belongings, intending to leave the palace on the morrow. I shall, of course, leave a note of thanks to Prince William. That night I lay down on my bed and was soon asleep. For the first time in my dream my nostrils caught a familiar scent-the smoke of burning pine resin, mingled with the savoury aroma of roasted venison and the bitter freshness of morning grass. I opened my eyes to find myself lying beneath the spreading oaks in the centre of the pack camp. Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, casting dappled patches of light on the ground. “What are you daydreaming about?” a rough voice sounded behind me. I whipped round a