A Chance Encounter

The stripling king, scarce more than a boy, had just passed into the autumn of his twentieth year. Having ruled for just three so far, the whole kingdom dreamed of what would occur in the further years of young Goren’s reign. Out on a hunt, our king rode with his royal huntsmen. When a sable is flushed from its den, our proud Goren spares the beast for its dark eyes and gleaming coat speak to him of joy and sorrow. Noble, autumnal Goren, wise beyond his years, spends a quiet hour admiring the small creature before it once again bounds off into the dark of the wood.