1: It's A Woman

It's A Woman

Swish!2

Thuk!

"Hmm?" Prince Arlan mused. "It seems like I've missed the shot."

"Missed? That's impossible," a well-built man on horseback, a knight, echoed in surprise. "Your Highness's arrow never misses its target!"

Ocean blue eyes stared suspiciously in the direction where his arrow landed. His Highness—a man by the name of Arlan Cromwell—the Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Griven, pulled another arrow from his quiver. He readied the longbow, his right arm pulling the bowstring back effortlessly. The outline of his strong but lean muscles could be seen through the fabric of his clothes. His dark eyes flickered as his long ash brown hair moved along the wind.

Swish!

Thuk!

"Missed again." Arlan's Initially serious face held a smirk. "Seems like someone is interfering with my hunt, Imbert."

"Dare interrupt His Highness's hunt?" The knight gritted his teeth and pulled his sword out, "Your Highness, I will bring that trespasser's head to your feet."

"No need," Arlan instructed calmly, prompting confused looks from the knight, Imbert Loyset. Still, as a sworn knight, he obediently waited for his liege's signal.

"Someone is redirecting my arrows." The smirk on Arlan's lips widened, his eyes still fixed in the direction of the arrow he had shot.

'Someone is playing games with me. This hunt is becoming entertaining. I have a new prey in the hunting ground it seems. How intriguing.'

"We cannot spare that person, Your Highness," the other knight commented furiously, his hand gripping the reins of the horse, ready to leave at the word of his liege.

Arlan raised his hand to stop him.  "You two wait for me here." He silently urged his horse forward, his sensitive ears straining to track the nimble movements of his prey within the lush forest.

"Your Highness—" the second knight began, worried but Imbert interrupted him.

"Do not worry about the Crown Prince. He can keep himself safe. You should know it as well, Rafal, that His Highness's orders are absolute."

"Yes, Commander Imbert," Rafal conceded as he watched his liege's horse galloping deeper into the forest.

Arlan entered deeper into the dense forest, his full attention on finding his escaping prey—a prey that was for once not an animal, but a mischievous trespasser, who dared interfere in his leisurely hunt.

This forest belonged to the main estate of the Wimarks. His older sister Alvera, the Duchess of Wimark, had long ordered her people to clear this region of the forest for Arlan to entertain himself.

However, a trespasser appeared, one that dared to enter the private forest of the Duchess of Wimark and repeatedly interfered with her brother's leisurely hunt when the grounds should've been empty.

The trespasser was evidently courting death. The intruder was quick-footed; if Arlan had been a mere human, they would have escaped undetected.

In no time at all, Arlan arrived at the deeper part of the forest. The trees were overgrown, and the lack of a clear path meant that Arlan had to dismount and continue the rest of his hunt on foot.

Countless twigs, rocks and leaves were littered all over the forest floor, yet the prince's footsteps made not a single sound. He moved as silently as a shadow, his tall figure flitting from one tree root to another, his sharp but playful gaze never leaving the hazy silhouette he had long discovered hiding on one of the trees.

A tense silence stretched endlessly—

Swish!

The next moment, a dagger appeared in his hand. His throw was so fast and precise, the dagger sailed through the air as if it was a freshly loosened arrow, but Arlan knew that this time, he would hit his target.

Rustle!

Rustle!

Thud!

A person fell on the ground from the tree on his left. A trespasser who was covered from head to toe in dark clothing, the lower half of the face obscured with a black mask like a rogue hitman instead of a hunter.

Arlan observed the person on the ground. "Shall we continue playing chase, young man?"

The trespasser jumped back to their feet as if the fall had not affected them. A pair of hazel eyes, which were the only visible part of that covered body, glared hotly at Arlan. 

Arlan smiled in response and strolled forward leisurely.

The trespasser pulled out a short knife in defense.

The prince raised a brow at this. "Why are you mad? I thought we were having such a good time playing together. Didn't you enjoy thwarting my hunt?"

He pointedly looked at a short bow and the few arrows that spilled on the ground when the trespasser had fallen earlier.

"I applaud your archery skill," Arlan continued. "It is not easy to hit my arrows mid-flight."

In response, the trespasser moved backwards, pointing the short knife at the prince, gripping it tightly in the glove-covered hands, ready to attack as soon as Arlan stepped within his range. However, the pair of hazel eyes were shifting left and right, obviously trying to find a chance to run away.

Arlan found it easy to read those eyes. "I don't think there is any way out for you, young man—"

Just as Arlan took another step forward, the masked trespasser raised the other hand. A white fog-like substance was thrown at Arlan's face with a sudden gust of wind which took him by surprise.

The trespasser took advantage of this momentary distraction and rapidly turned around to run away but…it was nothing but a wishful thinking.

Before the trespasser could manage to take a step away, Arlan's larger and calloused hand grabbed that knife-wielding hand, restraining that delicate wrist. His arm wrapped across trespasser' throat in a chokehold, capturing that short body in a strong grip as the slender back of the trespasser pressed against his muscular chest.

A pair of lips laughed from behind, causing hot breath to brush against the trespasser's cloth-covered ear.

"Guess I win again. Did I tire you out, or are you up for the next round?"

The trespasser didn't struggle, instead looked in grave shock.

'How come my magic spell didn't work on this man? It always worked on every human I used it on. How? Who is this man? Let me try another magic spell…Ugh! I can't…How can this man be immune to my magic?'

"Hmm? You're shorter than I thought," Arlan continued to speak in a casual manner, not knowing what was going on in the trespasser's mind. "As for my prize for winning, how about you tell me why you interrupted my hunt, shortie?"

This pulled the trespasser back to the senses, screaming inside, 'Danger! This man is dangerous. I need to get away from him.'

"You didn't answer, Shortie. I don't like to wait."

The trespasser's response to Arlan's mocking? A leg trip hooking his ankle.

Arlan did not underestimate the strength of the trespasser. As a talented swordsman himself, his center of balance was steady, that was why he did not react to the trespasser's attempt of making him lose footing.

'Eh?'

But to his surprise, Arlan found himself thrown off balance.

On the other hand, despite his successful feat, trespasser did not manage to escape Arlan's hold either. Both of them hit the forest floor with Arlan falling on top of the trespasser, that small body bearing the weight of Arlan's more robust body.

The trespasser struggle became more frantic, trying to push Arlan away from pinning him down, but the tall man was immovable like a rock.

Feeling that soft squirming body under him, not to mention the faint pleasant fragrance that came from that small body, Arlan froze in shock.

'It's a woman?!'

Only then did Arlan get a good look at that lovely pair of hazel eyes. Despite the anger in her glare, Arlan wasn't threatened at all. Instead, he found her attitude endearing, the same way a kitten would act fiercely, thinking it was a tiger.

'Such beautiful eyes, befitting a feisty young lady.'

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