It was a lovely day in Bowerstone. The birds were shining, the sun was chirping, and little kids were running under everyone's feet and tripping them up. The air was warm, ripples on the river winked as you walked across the bridge, and everyone was relaxed and cheerful.
Too bad Sparrow was on her way to lovely scenic and rainy Westcliff, currently mowing down her third group of bandits.
Everything was moving along as per usual. She attacked, the bandits died. Plain and simple. Unfortunately for Sparrow, fate, as always, decided to create a problem that caused even this uncomplicated happening to go spiraling down into an abyss. And that problem's name was Prince Reginald.
"Fear not, fair maiden!" came a scream from the bushes. A man, dressed extremely inappropriately for the area, jumped from behind a tree and charged headfirst into battle. And, to Sparrow's dismay, headfirst into her.
"What the hell do you think you're doing!" She shoved him away and regained her balance just in time to stab the man coming at her through the chest. Five more came up behind him. Sparrow charged a spell. Released, the men were burned to nothing, and finally the battle was over.
Sparrow turned to the well-dressed man, who was currently lying face down in the mud. "Well?"
He tentatively raised himself from the ground, making a face at all the muck that currently covered his entire front. Not in any hurry, the man took a handkerchief out, wiped himself down as best he could, and pocketed the dirty square of fabric. After adjusting his shirt one last time and fixing his hair, he turned to Sparrow.
"I was merely saving the damsel in distress. That is what princes do, after all."
"…Right. Well, Your Highness," she paused to give a mock curtsey, "if you don't mind, I'll just be going."
Sparrow then turned, ready to leave. She had only taken a couple of steps when the man blocked her path, holding out his hand. After looking at it for a moment, she shook it, then pushed him aside, ready to continue her journey to Westcliff, which was taking a lot longer than it should have.
"Wait!" he called after her. "I believe an introduction is in order. I am Prince Reginald."
Sparrow glanced back to see the prince bowing slightly, matted red hair falling into his face.
"And I am leaving. Try not to get yourself killed."
Ordinarily, Sparrow wouldn't have been so rude – particularly to a prince – but she really had somewhere to be. People were waiting for her in Wescliff, and she was already running late from a previous unexpected hindrance. She didn't need another. Unsurprisingly, fate did not agree.
Before she could even realize what was happening, an arrow was flicked from somewhere in the greenery, and Sparrow was falling. Down a cliff. With Reginald. She sighed, and braced for impact.
Not long after, Sparrow was conscious again. Luckily – or unluckily, depending on how one looked at it – she had managed to protect the prince, who was stirring back to life.
Ignoring Reginald, she inspected the damage. Only a couple of scraped here and there that would heal quickly enough. She winced as she moved her arm. A couple of scrapes and half an arrow in her shoulder. Running her fingers over the damage, she realized it could be worse. At least with most of the shaft left it was easy to pull out. Sparrow placed her hand on it, bracing for the pain. It was then Reginald decided to wake up.
"Oh my goodness, you've got an arrow in your shoulder!" Clearly that man was a genius. Even more so, when he then proceeded to freak out, each word coming from his mouth more irritating than the last.
Ignoring the whining, Sparrow merely grabbed the arrow again and pulled. Her face contorted in pain for a moment, and then the sensation dulled to a slight throbbing. She ripped the bottom of her shirt and bound her shoulder. After doing so, and while still ignoring the increasingly grating voice of the prince, she quickly scanned the area.
The beach they had landed on was more rock than sand, and the top of the cliff was so high the top couldn't even be seen through the mist. It was amazing even she had gotten off with such slight injuries, let alone the- oh wait. Reginald was hurt. He just didn't realize it yet.
He was too busy spazzing about Sparrow having an arrow in her shoulder and having natural painkillers pumped through him that he hadn't realized his leg was broken. Wonderful. Sparrow's natural protective instincts kicked in; no matter how irritating this man was, leaving someone with a broken leg with no way to get anywhere was not possible.
So, she could think of two options. Either she could tell him about his leg, and hope he wouldn't be so concerned over his injuries as he was over hers, or she could knock him out.
Sparrow chose door number two.