The Princess and the Huntsman by Patricia Green Page B

vowed to teach her manners and humility. It was his goal and he would see it done, or die trying. Angry as she could be, dying was not so far-fetched an idea. Brandywyn might take up a knife and do him in!
    After a while, the trees parted and the village came into view. Brandywyn, her expression imperious, stopped the first person she saw. “I am Princess Brandywyn of Ring. Clothe me.”
    The young woman laughed. “And I am Queen Maj of Bastin!” She looked at Tom. “Where did you find this one? Under a faery ring?”
    Tom smiled. “The girl has had a shock, ‘tis all. She has this notion and has not found her wits yet.”
    “Ah.” She patted Brandywyn’s arm, and Brandywyn quickly pulled it away. “Not the friendliest, is she?” said the woman, frowning now.
    “Er… no,” Tom admitted. Being shunned by the villagers would hamper his efforts to provide for himself and Brandywyn.
    “I am Princess Brandywyn,” the girl insisted. “I demand—”
    “Let us move on,” Tom said quickly. He nodded at the village woman. “Good morrow to you, goodwife.”
    The woman eyed Brandywyn suspiciously. “Daft,” she pronounced. “Good morrow to you, Tom Huntsman.”
    Brandywyn was undaunted. “But—”
    Tom took her arm and pulled her along.
    Yanking her arm away, Brandywyn said, “Leave me. I shall do’t myself.”
    Tom pondered this for a moment. The girl would have to learn on her own. “Very well.” He turned and walked away, watching her stop another passerby on the street and receive the same rejection.
    Following along a way behind her where she could not see him, Tom saw her fail miserably at her quest over and over again. Villagers were gathering in small knots, pointing at her as she made her demands, stomping her foot angrily. Finally, turning in the street and seeing that she was not going to be catered to, Brandywyn started back down the street the way she came.
    Tom stealthily followed her, but instead of asking for directions back to his cottage or to the palace, she stomped out of the village, head held high, to find her own way through the forest. After half an hour, she was hopelessly lost, of course, but she persisted with dogged determination.
    The forest darkened as the trees became more dense, and Brandywyn got further and further afield. Tom thought maybe she could not even make her way back to the village again to get help.
    Finally, tired of the game, Tom got ahead of her and leaned up against a tree until she reached him.
    “Oh! Tom Huntsman!”
    “Aye, Brandywyn, ‘tis I.”
    “I am on my way home. Do you leave me alone.”
    “Admit it. You are lost.”
    “I am not!” Her chin jutted out stubbornly.
    “Why did you not ask for directions?”
    “I knew I could find my way, of course. A princess is well educated at geography.”
    He snorted. “So you could find yourself to… Carlisle, for example, but getting to the royal grounds was a bit too local for you?”
    “I would have found my way! Now get out of my way. I want to be off.”
    “You are going the wrong way. The cottage is that way.” He pointed eastward.
    “I told you, you dunce,” she said, talking slowly as though speaking to a fool. “I am on my way home. To the palace. Where I live.”
    Tom took her by the arm, and though she struggled, his grip was firm. He had no need to hurt her to pull her alongside of him as he headed toward the cottage. “You live with me until we can find out who you really are. My home is your home for the time-being.”
    “No!”
    He paused. “Do not attempt to gainsay me in this, Brandywyn. Be cooperative and you will do well.”
    She struggled a bit harder, digging in her heels. “Let me go!”
    “You press me. You have endangered yourself enough for one day. Come along.”
    She smacked his arm. “You are a knave! Release me or I shall… shall…”
    “Have me drawn and quartered? You can only do that once, Princess. ”
    “Oh! I hate you, hate you, hate you!”
    He tugged