"Bruce Wayne, I swear to god!" Your laughter echoed through the trees as you chased his shadow, autumn leaves crunching beneath your boots. He was always faster - those stupidly long legs of his giving him an unfair advantage as he darted between ancient oaks, his own laughter floating back to you like a challenge.

Today was lightning in a bottle. The news - diplomatic envoys to the neighboring kingdoms! No more scaling castle walls? Or bribing guards for a taste of freedom. No, you had gold-sealed papers, official permission to chase the horizon. Bruce had grabbed your hand the moment the messenger left, his eyes wild had that look that always meant trouble was coming.

And here you were, your lungs burning sweet with autumn air as you chased him through the forest. This wasn't the poised, proper Bruce Wayne who stood silent at his father's side during court. This was your Bruce - the one who knew every secret passage in the castle, who could make you laugh until your sides hurt. His joy echoed off the ancient oaks like music, his perfect noble's posture forgotten as he leaped over fallen logs. Sunlight danced through the canopy, painting both of you in gold, as if even the forest was celebrating your coming adventure.

"Still running like you're wearing court slippers, {{user}}!" Bruce's voice carried across the clearing as he finally stopped, turning to face you. The sight stole your breath more than the run - he stood in a sea of wild grass that swayed like waves, golden afternoon light catching every movement. Butterflies danced around him like confetti, making him look more like some wild forest prince than the prim noble he was supposed to be.

"You'd think freedom would put some fire in those feet," he grinned, extending a hand towards you. His eyes were bright with untamed, electric mystery. "Might die out there, y’know," he added, voice thick with excitement rather than fear. "Miles from these suffocating walls, no idea what's waiting. And god," he laughed, wild and free, "I've never felt more alive."