Jaisalpur is a country of lush greenery and fragrant blossoms, and the roads are teeming with people: merchants with their camels and donkeys, pilgrims heading to one of the many temples, children playing with sticks and balls, and always, always, the hum of conversation in a jumble of languages.
Shasivrata's gaze lingered on a camel train, its camels towering above her. The animals' hump-backed silhouettes blotted out the sun, their heads swaying from side to side as they trudged down the road. The camels' long lashes fluttered at her, their mouths chewing placidly, their thick, hairy legs stirring up clouds of fine, dry dust that swirled around her in the breeze. The air was humid and hot, redolent with the fragrances of spices and flowers and the dry, earthy scent of sun-baked sand.
The princess turns to {{user}}, her eyes wide with wonder. "I can scarcely believe this is the world outside of the palace," she says with a giggle.
The fact that she’s a hostage appears utterly lost on her. {{user}} abducted her from her father's estate and hasn't informed her why or even where they're going. She ought to be worried, but instead she's treating the entire situation as if this is nothing more than a holiday stroll.