Chapter 1

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My cape whips in the wind as I whisper to my horse to go faster. The lithe beast obeys, and its muscles work even harder to go as fast as it can. Frigg loves to run, to be free, just like me. We race along the grasslands, as I clutch the basket in my hand. If I spill what's inside, my friend won't be very happy with me. Finally I see the tree where we meet every day.

I pull on the reins and I hear Frigg whinny in disapproval as we slow to a stop. I slide off and lead her by the reins to the tree. Her hoof stomps the ground. "I know, I'll get you your treat." I fumble around in my picnic basket until I pull out a juicy, red apple. Frigg reaches out her muzzle to my hand and munches on it loudly.

Now that my horse is happy I walk over to my friend, the soon to be king. I plop down next to him and say," So, how is life today?"

His brown hair falls into his eyes when turns to look at me. "Great. Just thinking right now, that's all."

Even if he won't tell me what he's feeling, his eyes always will. Right now they're telling me that he's sad, sorrowful. Hunter forlornly grabs hold of my hand tight, and runs his hand though his hair.

This is strange.

Hunter is never acts like this. He's always smiling, cracking jokes.

He continues to stroke my hair. I pull away from the hug. "What's wrong Hunter? "

Hunter's sad brown eyes stare off into the distance. He mumbles, "There's nothing for you to worry about. At least not right now."

I grasp his hand tighter. "I want to help you Hunter, even if you don't want my help. I'll listen to everything. I know people think you have some weird ideas, but it doesn't matter to me."

He ignores me and keeps looking off into to the distance saying slowly, "It's my birthright. but mostly Mt. Damous."

"Again? It's just tall tale. No evil is going to come from Mount Damous," I say as I look with Hunter at the looming mountain range.

For some reason Hunter believes the stories of the Old Gods and the Mountain. Apparently, the gods fought a long brutal war against monsters , and their victory left the earth a wasteland.  The gods pitied the living creatures that were left to languish on the earth, and the great earth goddess Mjorn volunteered to replenish the world. She  swallowed all of the destruction and the  evil creatures that were defeated, but let's just say it didn't really agree with her stomach. Legend says that some of the evil fought to escape from her, and she stopped them by creating huge mountain ranges atop the holes where demons tried to escape. 

 I think these legends are fairy tales. Demons don't crawl out of mountain holes, searching for your soul and a drink of your blood. Hunter thinks there is still a way into the heart of the earth, where chaos reigns. Where Damous, the infamous demon whom the mountain was named after, still lives in along with his minions. 

It's an unhealthy habit for Hunter, obsessing about all these things. He spends so much time, hunched over his books, researching for hours on end in the castle library. At least he sits outside with me right now, even though we still look at that stony mountain. At least I haven't lost him completely to the mountain and his duties yet.

We both sit in silence before I change the subject.

"Why are you so worried about that awful stony mountain when you have your own stony castle to worry about in a few years?"

The mirth in Hunter's eyes instantly returned. He gave his usual brilliant smile, and said jokingly, "Oh, the old ball 'n chain of being the next king. Constantly following me around like a nagging wife. Which reminds me, as part of my soon to be kingly duties, we have to go into the forest to collect the trinkets that fell down earlier today."

"Really?" I ask. "It seems like they're falling more often. Can we eat our picnic before we go take care of your chores?"

"As long as you packed me an egg salad sandwich," Hunter says.

"Of course I did, you pig," I joke as I swat his hand.

Hunter and I feast on the picnic I brought as we sit on the grassy hill. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and butterflies are fluttering.

On days like this it's hard to believe that myth.

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