The forest is still, not a single sign of any member of his hunting part in sight. Leon sighs in frustration, cursing himself for somehow managing to get himself separated, lost like some confounded child. His horse whinnies lowly, and he smooths a hand over its head, walking with her through the trees. All that remains of the sun is a dim glow beginning to fade in the sky above the foliage, and he would soon have to rest his steed and find some water.

After some time, against all odds, Prince Leon catches sight of a cottage, nearly grown into the very forest itself with vines and curling branches weaving over the brick. Warily and with little other choice, he guides his horse over towards the fence, and tentatively heads up to knock on the door.