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In this state of sleep, he wanders the paths with a set state of being, his eyes open and his mind wider than his gaze. He clutches tight to a piece of old driftwood, but in his mind's eye, he's equipped with a sword again, patrolling the forests in search of a thief -- in search of his thief. There's something in his path, an impossible obstacle that he can't seem to conquer, and he can't even put a name to it.

He wields his weapon as he walks the pathways, a determined set to his shoulders -- as if burdened by armor rather than the light protection of a thin sweatshirt and pants. He halts when he comes across a worthy foe of a man, staring up and up, caught in this place between waking and sleep, gripping the driftwood ever tighter. "We have to hurry," he insists sharply. "The curse will be upon us if we delay," he tells the man.

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Prince Charming

May 2014

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