“I’m done with this, and I’m done with you!” Sam fumes as she hauls the prince out of his thirtieth hole.
Prince Jon, face a wincing muddle of blood and bruises,
grabs the lady knight’s wrist with urgency born out of authority and poorly disguised fear. “Wait, Sammy! Wait!!!”
If she weren’t so annoyed, Sam would’ve laughed at the tremble in the prince’s voice. The way he’s on his knees now, stripped down to his raw helplessness.
“Don’t leave me…” he begs.
Sam sighs, pulls him up to his feet.
Her next step sends her tumbling down her first ditch.
*Inspired by the prompt shape up or ship out from The Daily Post.