Infiltration

A breeze rustled the branches, letting a little sunlight filter through to the ground in scattered patches.

Hooves crushed the moss as the sound of copper bells drifted through the woods.

"Are you sure this is the right way?"

Frederick was a little worried. Getting lost in the forest was no fun.

Bellberk replied with confidence, "We haven't taken a wrong turn. See that unusually huge oak tree? Turn right after it. I still remember, even after all these years."

"We won't have far to go before we see a black castle. That's our destination."

Sunlight fell on the carriage, bright enough to sting the eyes.

Frederick looked at the White Castle atop the distant hill and said, "Either the castle's paint has faded, or you fell asleep halfway there."

Bellberk gave an awkward little laugh, then looked up at the sky. "Nice weather. It won't rain anytime soon."

Frederick shook his head and drove the carriage onward.

The White Castle stood on a small hill. It wasn't very large: the main building was only three stories tall, and a five-story arrow tower stood beside it.

To the left of the road lay a pasture where a flock of sheep grazed. A sheepdog ran to the roadside and barked furiously at the carriage.

The wheat field on the right was ripe. The adult farmers were busy harvesting, with only one small patch left.

At the edge of the distant woods, children with baskets slung over their shoulders gathered in groups to pick ripe berries.

The shepherd boy hurried over from far away and drove off the sheepdog, bowing apologetically to the carriage again and again.

Bellberk nudged Frederick with her elbow and whispered, "Look at his clothes."

The shepherd boy wore a sleeveless vest made from thick, sturdy Slime Gel