Princess Jern's Post-Rugby Dip

"Uh, sure...?" Gunnar assented for both of them, though was primarily thinking about just how peculiar this day was turning out to be.

"We're on a search for Her Highness Princess Jern after she had fled from Malmhule some weeks ago, and her trail has led us right here to this village." The presumed captain of this squadron explained, which alone was enough to amaze the two younger men. A princess in their meagre hamlet? Surely they would have been aware of such a thing! "We've been informed she had been staying at the inn for the past few days and many last sighted here about the area only just this morning. She hasn't happened by this way, has she? You can't miss her even if you tried, she's well over six feet tall with a blazing crop of orange hair and quite...ahem....boisterous, shall we say, in her manner."

At this description, the two lads immediately looked to one another at exactly the same time in total, wide-eyed, open-mouthed disbelief, mutually ruminating about what the other was ruminating and having to consciously prevent themselves from taking a glance back towards the copse lest they gave away their supposition.

"Well? Seems to me like you both know something. Out with it! Any little bit can help, you know." The captain said, astute to their expressions.

"Erm...y-yeah! I think I do remember seeing somebody like that..." Frode blurted out without thinking under pressure from the authority figure, much to his friend's shock, though he hastily added: "B-but it seemed like she was just about leaving the village when I did...!"

"Ah, that's right! It looked like she was heading down the road towards Osterklig on the other side of town, didn't it?" Gunnar was quick on the ball to realise what his confidant was attempting, helping further corroborate his untruth.

"I see..." The captain said in a tone and a contemplation that the village boys suspect he doubted their statements, but were allayed when they saw him turn around and bark at his subordinates: "You heard them, men. It sounds like she's trying to double back and throw us off! Hop to it then! She can't be too far ahead!" And with that, the servicemen left the pair of youths in only the company of each other just as they were before the redhead's advent, neither daring to resume confering until they were certain the patrol were well out of earshot.

"Hey, Gunnar...you don't suppose that was...?" Frode began to ask his friend in a lowered voice, not finishing his thought but gesturing towards the silent copse all the same.

"Put it this way, Frode: even if it was, who the Hel would even believe what happened between us and her?" The black-haired boy responded bluntly, predicting exactly what the blond was about to say. "Now, I'm not saying that was who we're thinking of without a doubt, but she didn't seem keen to meet those soldiers all the same. And after what she did for us, well, it just didn't seem right to give her away. I mean, not like she's done anything bad, right? Far as I know anyway..."

"Aye, fair point. I was thinking the same anyway." Frode shook his head and sighed, looking towards the sky as he processed all that had transpired such a relatively short amount of time, pondering if his path may ever really cross the redheaded stranger ever again. "Best just to keep this to ourselves, I reckon, else everybody will think we've taken one many rattles to the brain during the matches!" He made a wry laugh, which Gunnar could not help but smirk at himself.