It was the spring of 1798 when the Duke and his family came to visit the small town

of FlowerField. The
fallen petals that coat the road were scattered about as two gorgeous white stallions carrying a
marvelous carriage galloped through the town. Trumpets blared and cheers resounded through every
corner of FlowerField to celebrate the arrival of the prestigious family.

I tossed on my best dress and hurried to the grand apple tree ever so wonderfully coated with the soft
pink hue of apple blossoms, there the Duke stood at a podium delivering his speech full of promises to
better our small town, but it didn’t take long for me to become bored, I was 13 and all too uninterested
in the state of our deteriorating water supply.

Alas, something new grabbed my attention. It was a boy, around my age – he sat to the side of the stage
picking up small bricks just to throw them down again. I noticed his clothes, unwrinkled and stainless, he
was so obviously the Duke’s son.

The state of his boredom caught my interest so I squeezed through the crowd and went around the tree
to arrive behind him. I pssted and threw twigs until he turned around and eyes like a clear morning sky
greeted me.

He stuck his index finger at his chest as if questioning if it had been him I was trying to talk too. I could
only smile as I signaled him to follow me before running off into a nearby patch of trees. I could soon
hear his eager feet scurrying behind me as we exchanged laughter.

Beyond the patch of trees was a wide meadow, leveled ground with low grass and wild flowers all for a
kid to enjoy. He lit up in excitement as his eyes explored this new setting – something he’d never known
of from life in the city.