Yes, I like Reynard. He is a worthy Prince Charming, not like my brat prince in Cinderella
I apologise for the lack of pictures. I am sure I had more at one time but cannot find them now.
A Child's Tale'I believe we have an impossible quest ahead of us.'
Reynard and his servant sat facing each other across the large oak table, littered with maps and papers and two sturdy mugs of ale.
If only his own father was not so fragile.
He would surely know the names of the nobles who died for his cause, but Reynard was not insensitive enough to tug on that thread.
Reminders of his failure and the naming of former friends could very quickly send the old man into a downward spiral that nothing could halt.
Reynard's servant had travelled far and wide, seeking what information he could from whatever source seemed likely.
Phillip of Wintersong should have certainly been a good lead. Everyone knew of Phillip and he was a cousin of sorts to Reynard. It should be a simple matter of identifying the girl he once had planned to marry and taking it from there.
Unfortunately Phillip had died.
His horse had kicked him in the head and, although he survived the kick, he wasted away and did not see year's end. Some said he died of a broken heart.
Others suggested he had finally had some sense kicked into him and couldn't cope with the strangeness.
His successor, Ellis the Bold, was far too busy galloping off to battle to take the time to search the records.
Reynard's man had turned then to the villagers.
They were an odd lot. Very reluctant to speak. Perhaps because he was a stranger but there seemed, as well, a fear laid on them.
Finally his man had broken through. It was a small child, a girl. She was richly dressed and accompanied by several servants, as you would expect of the daughter of a noble.
His man had spoken to one of the servants, a young woman, easily flattered by the smooth tongue, quick wit and courtly manners of his agent.
The servant had nothing much to give him except her coy smiles but the child had drawn breath and tugged at his sleeve in impatience.
Unfortunately, before she could say a word, she was quickly pulled aside by another attendant.
He had moved on, but later, as he inspected some wares at a stall, the child had appeared at his side. It seemed she had eluded her attendants if only for a moment.
'You ask of Isolde of Whitesnow.' She had hissed.
'They tell me she is dead but I...' She stammered, reluctant to confess.
'I have dreams where I see her. She lives in a house in a forest with seven brothers. They are kind and care for her but she is sad. Sadder than I.'
'Please find her and help her. Tell her I am sorry for the deeds of my mother.'
So, Reynard had a name and location – well within several dozen leagues every which way. A house in a forest, a house with seven brothers or so the child had dreamed.
How difficult could that be to find?
'We go to seek a damsel in distress.' Reynard grinned.
If his man was upset over being dragged away again after just returning from a long journey, he didn't complain.
But Reynard suspected, deep in his heart, that their adventure would be pure folly.
