With the dense and vibrant woodland, an intricate tapestry of towering trees loomed over two fellow travelers. Their surroundings were a chaotic blend of nature's grandeur, with massive trees stretching toward the heavens. In this sylvan sanctuary, a stout and majestic persimmon tree, laden with red-orange jewels of juiciness, asserted its dominance, commanding attention from all who stood beneath its verdant canopy.
Beneath the giant, Dara, with a twinge of nostalgia, invoked memories of bygone days spent with the young prince. He cast his thoughts back, reminiscing about their shared escapades as mischievous youngsters.
"My Prince," Dara interjected, his voice carrying the weight of cherished memories. "Remember when we were but two mischievous kids? You were always the superior tree climber – surpassing not just me, but everyone else."
The unexpected surge of Dara's reminiscent musings transported the prince to a time when life was a canvas painted with the hues of youthful exuberance. Standing beneath the huge towering green, the prince's gaze ascended with fervor, retracing the heights he once conquered.
As if tethered by an invisible thread connecting past and present, the prince found himself immersed in the unwarranted flood of childhood recollections, each memory a vibrant brushstroke on the canvas of his mind.
In their shared past, with Prince Raibod, Dara was a diminutive lad not yet marked by the growth spurt that awaited him. Both reveled in clandestine ventures, boldly breaching the boundaries of permissible play. Despite their apparent parity in age, the truth unfolded a subtle narrative – Dara, by a margin of 2-3 years, was the elder of the two. Astonishingly, their statures remained in harmonious synchrony, as if time had bestowed upon them the gift of equal height.
The inception of their camaraderie traced back to the days when Dara's kin toiled within the palace kitchens, his father earning favor as the monarch's culinary virtuoso. Dara, a sprite of playful exuberance, would covertly slip away from the kitchen's confines. It was during this stealthy adventure that the paths of the two boys intertwined, setting the stage for a friendship destined to flourish.
The bond deepened in the unpredictable expanse of the palace backyard, where their shared love for capricious playgrounds found expression. Dara's unrestrained spirit, coupled with the prince's own inquisitive and mischievous nature, formed an unspoken alliance that thrived on daring exploits. As a six-year-old, Raibod mirrored Dara's penchant for curiosity, a dynamic duo navigating the uncharted terrain of childhood with kindred spirits, finding solace in the liberated essence of Dara's soul.
Towards the terminus of the outer courtyard reigned a venerable pine, steeped in the reverence of spiritual significance. Oblivious to the tree's sanctity, the two impish friends engaged in a spirited competition, wagering on the swiftness of their ascent up the aged pine.
The prince, already imbued with rudimentary training even in those early years, exhibited a remarkable nimbleness, his noble physique providing an unmistakable advantage over his less privileged companion. His superior athleticism in childhood sports mirrored the broader societal disparities, with the prince effortlessly outpacing his commoner counterpart.
In a vivid recollection, the prince ascended the thick trunk of the pine, a triumphant stare cast downward to where Dara, several steps behind, strained to match his pace. Laughter and jubilation filled the air, a playful symphony abruptly silenced as unexpected spectators materialized. Leading the impromptu audience was a poised young aristocrat, a stern expression etched upon his face. The child's countenance darkened with a palpable fear, eyes meeting the strict, critical gaze of Prince Kesra, the first in line to the throne.
The man's hands clasped behind his waist, an embodiment of scolding disapproval, head shaking with authoritative reproach. The prince, meeting Dara's eyes, sensed the encroaching dread, and shared momentarily before the sharp and angry glare of Prince Kesra descended upon them.
Little Dara, already gripped by terror, peered down at his trembling feet. Under the weight of the first prince's grave rebuke, his legs faltered, and the once joyous ascent turned into a harrowing descent as he lost his precarious grip on the ancient pine…
"Highness Raibod! Do the arboreal skills of our shared past still reside within you, or have you gracefully transcended that era?" Officer Dara's provocative inquiry bore no resemblance to the vulnerable and diminutive child of the past.
A sly smile, harboring a sense of anticipation long-held, adorned Raibod's countenance. "Are you challenging me, Officer Dara? Or do you simply find amusement in a recurring pattern of your defeat?"
Dara, in response, injected a touch of sarcasm into his words. "Certainly not, Your Highness! Who am I to challenge the charm of royalty? However, as we find ourselves here, far from the palace, standing underneath this ancient tree, why not indulge in a bit of nostalgia? For me, it feels like yesterday, though I understand if His Excellency has allowed the sands of time to obscure such moments."
Dara's words, a careful blend of audacity and tact, served as a poignant reminder of a melancholic yet profound chapter nestled within the prince's heart. With a nod of agreement, Raibod circumambulated the tree, scrutinizing its sturdy trunk for the optimal climb.
Then, in a display of athleticism and dexterity, the prince assumed a poised stance. With a single, well-calculated leap, he ascended over a meter from the ground, securing his grip on the robust trunk with resilient hands. From that vigorous start, Raibod commenced his ascent, employing a harmonious interplay of hands and feet, methodically embracing and releasing the stout body, each step a testament to his climbing prowess.
"Hey! Waiting for an invitation? Join me already!" the prince mischievously taunted Dara, his tone laden with the carefree spirit of their shared past.
Surveying their surroundings, Officer Dara swiftly deposited his sword and other military accouterments in a corner, willingly immersing himself in the spirited and troublesome adventure orchestrated by the young prince.
...
Their carefree jungle sojourn encountered an abrupt interruption as the afternoon sky morphed into an ominous prelude to an impending cloudburst. The unstable weather signaled the onset of rain, prompting the duo to sprint quickly toward their starting point—the concealed cave behind the waterfall. Their aim was to evade a thorough soaking.
Despite the temporary respite provided by the towering trees, Dara, well-versed in the severity of forest monsoons, knew better than to underestimate nature's fury. Taking charge, he guided the prince along the trail now transformed into a muddy labyrinth.
As the temperature plummeted, the astute officer transitioned into survival mode with remarkable efficiency. Conjuring fire seemingly out of thin air, he elicited a surprised look from the prince. Dara fashioned a sitting area for the young royal, utilizing his own cloak crafted from the hide of prey he had hunted years prior. The prince, accustomed to the rigors of the wilderness, acknowledged the thoughtful gesture with silent appreciation.
The crackling fire imbued warmth and a flickering brightness to the cave's interior. With the thrill of escaping the impending rainstorm subsiding, hunger began to gnaw at the prince. The solitary fruit he had plucked from the tree earlier caught his attention.
Examining the round reddish-orange fruit up close, its gleaming surface proved enticing. However, uncertain of its edibility, the prince enquired, "So how do we dig into this?"
Respectfully taking the prince's fruit, Officer Dara set aside a heap of succulent ones he had gathered. With a sense of practiced expertise, he cradled the plump, spherical fruit in his palm like an orb, exerting gentle pressure as he replied, "Not this one, Your Majesty! It is not yet ripe enough. Biting into it would sap the moisture from your mouth and yield an unpleasant taste."
Offering a different fruit to the young prince, Officer Dara elucidated, "Instead, this one is ready for devouring! It's completely smooth to the touch, and the inside is all jelly and delicious, I promise!"
Accepting Dara's proffered expertise, Raibod took the ripe fruit, closing it to his face in a moment of delight. "Wow! You certainly know your way around the land, Dara!"
"Of course, Your Highness! I grew up around here before my stint in the palace, and I've made the journey back and forth for training and other matters," Dara responded with a touch of pride.
While savoring the succulent fruit, the prince, with a hint of disappointment, inquired, "What about the fruit I picked myself? Should I discard it?"
"No way! You must keep that! It's the fruit of your effort!" Dara encouraged.
"But it's not fit for consumption!" the prince lamented.
"May I share a secret with you, Your Highness? Remember when I mentioned that persimmon trees aren't suitable for orchards? That's precisely why. The fruits remain unripe, inedible, and rather terrible until the last minute. After that, ripened ones fall off the tree faster than expected, so practically, they have to be picked earlier."
"Good to know. Now, tell me the secret," Raibod urged, his curiosity piqued.
"You can keep the unripe persimmons in a warm place, and the bitter taste goes away after a few days. Just be sure not to let them spoil by getting too hot. This is how locals enjoy this richly sweet fruit, but outsiders often remain oblivious. Consequently, they tend to steer clear of this amazing delicacy," Officer Dara elucidated.
"Wow! So that's how it is!" Raibod exclaimed with newfound knowledge, reaching for another fruit. He carefully examined the persimmons, hand-checking for the perfect balance of firmness and softness.
"Let me, Your Highness!" Dara offered, proposing to take on the task of selecting the right fruit once more.
As Dara diligently sifted through the stack of fruits he had brought to the cave, he casually muttered, "You can even bring back some to your special someone if you desire."
The prince, taken aback by this unexpected suggestion, exclaimed in a gloomy and rebuking tone, "What did you just say?"
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