Sam grips the hilt of her sword with both hands, her sight wild and steady. “All right! Who are you and what have you done to the prince?”
“What the—!” Prince Jon steps back, palms raised in a defensive stance. “Put the weapon away, Sammy!”
Sam catches the fear in her cousin’s eyes. There’s no mistaking the prince when he’s looking like this. “Oh my god, you’re serious!”
“Well, yeah! And I’m tired of getting lost, too!”
Her hands begin to relax. “Oh… kay…” She resheathes the sword, sight still wary, focused. “We go left.”
She’s quite tired of ditches.
*Inspired by the prompt evasive action from The Daily Post.