The Prince and the Pauper

The Prince's Dilemma

 Frederick looked down at the deep cut on his leg. It was several inches long and when he tried to step on it a searing pain shot through his leg. A deer had jumped out of the woods, spooking his horse and he had fallen off, cutting his knee. He felt dizzy. He was losing a lot of blood from his wound. Midnight stood over him, leaning his head down with concern.

 "It's not that bad," Frederick told the horse and himself, "I can make it to the village. Someone will help me. They may send me home but at least my leg won't get infected." Wincing in pain, he tried to stand. How was he to get to the village if he could barely stand? He had to be getting close. He had been riding for an hour and must have gotten lost. This was not going as he had planned and it made him nervous. He climbed carefully atop Midnight's back and brought him to a gentle trot. He was busy with his thoughts, wondering if he should keep going. Was it closer to the village, or closer to go back? He looked at the brambles around Midnight's feet and hoped that he wouldn't trip in them. When he looked up he saw it. There standing of about a quarter mile was the first house of the village. If he could just make it that far someone would find him. Someone would help him. At least he hoped they would.