The little girl, no older than five, curtsied deeply, her bright blue dress swirling around her ankles like a miniature dancer. “Thank you, kind sir,” she piped, her voice barely a whisper.
The king’s guard, a towering figure clad in shining armor, blinked. He wasn’t used to such formalities from children. Usually, they’d stare wide-eyed or tug on their parents’ sleeves, their curiosity overwhelming any sense of decorum. But this little girl, with her serious expression and surprisingly graceful movements, was different.
He had just helped her retrieve her lost doll, a cherished companion named Barnaby, who had tumbled into the moat surrounding the king’s castle. The moat, while not deep, was certainly muddy, and the thought of her precious Barnaby submerged in that murky water had sent the little girl into a fit of tears.
The guard, despite his imposing appearance, had a soft spot for children. He’d carefully lowered himself into the moat, the water reaching his waist, and fished out the soggy doll. Barnaby, thankfully, was unharmed, though his pristine white fur was now a shade of muddy brown.
The little girl, her eyes wide with gratitude, had clasped Barnaby tightly to her chest. “Thank you, thank you!” she repeated, her voice trembling with relief. Then, to the guard’s surprise, she had curtsied, her small hands clasped neatly in front of her.
He chuckled, a low rumble that surprised even himself. “You’re very welcome, little one,” he boomed, his voice surprisingly gentle. “Just be more careful next time, alright?”
