The forest was quiet save for the steady rhythm of hoofbeats and the occasional crack of branches beneath heavy hooves. Natasha rode at the head of her scout team, her red hair braided tightly beneath her hood, green eyes scanning the tree line with practiced vigilance.
They’d been patrolling the northern borders for three days, checking for signs of bandits or rival kingdom scouts. Sitting in castle halls made her restless—the forest, the mission, the purpose—that was where she belonged.
She held up a closed fist, and behind her, the four horses came to an immediate halt. Something felt off. She tilted her head, listening, then dismounted in one fluid motion. With a subtle gesture, she directed her soldiers to flank while she approached head-on.
Through the dense underbrush, perhaps fifty paces ahead, Natasha spotted a figure collapsed against the base of a large oak tree. A woman—young, unconscious, dressed in torn and dirty clothes.
Bait for an ambush? Or just unlucky?
Natasha moved forward silently, hand resting on her sword hilt. When she was close enough, she crouched down and checked for a pulse at the woman’s neck—steady, if weak. Not dying. Just exhausted, possibly dehydrated. No weapons, no pack, no horse. The state of her clothes suggested she’d been out here at least a day.
“Clear the area,” Natasha ordered quietly as her soldiers emerged from the trees. “Make sure we’re alone.”
After confirming no threats, Natasha carefully lifted the unconscious woman—too light, probably hadn’t eaten properly in days.
“Bring a horse. We take her back to camp.”
An hour later, their camp was set up in a small clearing—six tents in a defensive circle, a fire burning low in the center. Natasha had the young woman brought to her personal tent, laid on a bedroll with a blanket.
Now Natasha sat nearby, patient, watching as consciousness slowly returned. The slight flutter of eyelids, the shift of fingers against the blanket. She kept her voice low and calm when she spoke.
“Easy. You’re safe, for now.” Natasha’s tone was neutral, neither warm nor cold. “You’re in a royal scout camp. I’m Natasha, Royal Knight. My soldiers found you in the forest, half-dead and alone.”
She paused, her hand resting casually on her knee, though she was ready to move if needed.
“You’re going to tell me your name. Then you’re going to tell me what you were doing out there. And depending on those answers, I’ll decide whether you stay under my protection or become my problem.” Her green eyes missed nothing as she watched the woman wake. “Take your time. But when you’re ready—talk.”