At the edge of the crystalline pond, bathed in the thunderous symphony of the nearby waterfall, an ethereal, unclad spirit stood defiant. Her bisque-colored skin embraced the cascading liquid, and her glossy tresses clung gracefully to her head in a dance with the shimmering currents.

Perched on a rugged boulder by the water's edge, the prince, still cloaked in a haze of mist from his recent immersion, observed the mesmerizing spectacle. From this vantage point, he discerned a shared sigh between the woman and the lad — a silent connection echoing across the expanse.

Sor, her slender form unwavering against the forceful torrent, anchored herself firmly to the ground. Meanwhile, Kian, the boy introduced as her son, frolicked in the pond's midst, chasing after frogs and hapless critters. Unfazed by the lively commotion, Sor remained absorbed in the intimate ritual of stroking her unglazed hair, as though time itself had paused within the embrace of nature's fervent caress.

Yet, as the prince reflected, a subtle disquiet gripped him. Something had altered in Sor's countenance. He discerned traces of wounds and bruises, inscribed upon her face, upper body, and even her back. A nonchalant dismissal echoed in his thoughts – "Expected of those ruffians, engaging in primal skirmishes. When locking horns with each other like wild animals, someone is bond to get hurt" Despite the casual rationale, an unsettling fury simmered within him, darkness rising like a tempest amid his throat at the notion of some brutish assailant laying hands on the woman he had come to empathize with to some extant at least.

"Despicable savages! Beating a soul so pitiful – utterly disgusting, uncultured Slaves! Unforgivable! I swear, I'll hunt down those fiends and sever each of their fingers, one agonizing digit at a time," raged Prince Raibod within the tempest of his anger.

Regaining a semblance of self-control, he recoiled from the brink of his own ferocity, reminding himself of his detached position from the tragic woman and her child. His clothes clandestinely nestled beneath spiky branches, he yearned to reclaim them swiftly, extricating himself from the chaotic tableau of uncertainty that surrounded him.

Caught in the web of an unsavory predicament, Prince Raibod sensed the inexorable pull to endure this tasteless confrontation to its bitter end. Despite his fury at being labeled a spy by a contemptible slave no less, the thought of severe repercussions stayed his hand from more sinister ideas like cutting people’s fingers. Trapped in the labyrinth of uncertainty, escape seemed an elusive mirage.

"And she's but a distraction! A pitiable slave! I’m here to relish and she is the one invading my sacred solitude, so why not mess with her a  bit," he tried to cleanse his thoughts, a harsh effort to purify his conflicted mind.

The woman's attire, a ragged assemblage of gray sacks carelessly strewn by the shore, bore witness to her wretched state. "A thin, helpless ant," His pride as a man sympathized, his heart stirred by the sight of such an inferior creature.

Concluding her purification routine, Sor emerged from the water, hurriedly donning her clothes. From a distance, she called out to Kian, "Baby, that's enough playing around! We're going to be late!"

Delving into the recesses of her ragged attire, Sor retrieved a loaf of bread, its hardness and staleness a testament to a life far removed from the luxuries the prince had known. Slicing it by hand, she extended half to Ramin. "Go ahead! Eat up, Mister Ramin!"

Prince stared at the offering in astonishment and indecision. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

A half-hearted smile graced Sor's lips. "I know it's not much, but it will keep you full for the time being."

With a forced yet amusing expression, the young prince accepted the thick, horrid-smelling bread from Sor's wet and restless hands. As if anticipating his judgements, Sor teased, "Should I soak it in water for you?" She giggled mischievously and sauntered after her playful son.

Little Kian, spying the bread in the stranger's hands, uttered a childish groan, "What about me?"

Sor teased, "What about you?"

"But, Mom..." Kian began to complain, cut short by Sor's laughter as she presented him with the other half of the loaf. "I was just kidding around, honey!"

She bestowed a motherly, sincere smile. "Here you go, my baby! It's your share."

"Where is your share then?" Kian inquired.

"You know how it is; I don't like bread much. I'd rather have some fruit instead..." She promptly changed the subject, becoming all business. "Alright now! Put on your clothes; it's getting really late! Hurry up, my darling boy!"

Observing the scene before him, Prince Raibod, a tinge of shame lingering from his earlier opinion, couldn't let go of his royal pride. "You didn't have to give me your share! I'll find something to eat myself! I don't need your charity!"

Sor scolded him with a mix of anger and admonition, "Don’t fret! It's not charity. I gave it to you because I felt like it! So, don't worry about it!" She continued, offering a stern warning, "Don't think you can survive in the forest just by munching on fruits and vegetables. Edible fruit is a rarity here, and even if it looks appetizing, it might be poisonous. Living here is more challenging than you think mister!"

"But I didn't ask you to give me your own stinky loaf! I mean, it reeks!" the prince complained.

Sor sighed, "Men! You can be really mean!" Gathering her energy to respond more gently, she added calmly, "I know it's not as noble and delicious as the fare from your master's estate, but at least it fills your stomach. That's all that matters now! Remember, you're not there anymore!"

The mention of "Your master's state" lingered in the prince's awareness, but he chose not to react. The less he engaged with this eccentric woman, the better, he reasoned.

With the boy now clothed and dashing ahead toward the forest, Sor granted her permission, a motherly concern echoing in her cry, "Don't go too far!"

Turning her attention to the young prince, still caught in indecision, clutching the bread in his fair palm, the prince managed to articulate the gravity of the situation. In a serious tone, he asserted, "You don't have to worry about me anymore... just... just remember not to talk about me to anyone! Not to the other slaves, and certainly, not to your master, Okay? I don't want the bandits getting wind of me being alive. Do you understand?"

Sor, adopting a tone suited for a child, responded, " Positively! I promise! I'll keep my mouth shut! And as for those odious, bloodthirsty bandits, I hope they'll face punishment for their appalling crimes! It will happen, I promise you!"

Time pressed on. Soon, this prying woman would be gone, and Prince Raibod could return to his life without her interference.

In a final scrutinizing glance, Sor's eyes fell upon the prince's now-dry, aristocratic undergarment. In contrast to her own worn attire, it exuded an air of aristocracy and elegance. Despite a hint of affront, Sor chose not to appear unsympathetic to His condition. Succumbing to a sarcastic tone, she remarked, "Well, you have such well-made underwear! It has a soft and delicate fabric! Where are the rest of your clothes, Mr. Ramin?"

Unfazed by the name he had bestowed upon himself, Raibod maintained his composure and offered a prepared response, "I left them at the edge of the cave, the very spot I used for sleeping the night before."

Sor's eyes welled up, concern etched across her face. "For real? You must have shivered through the night! You poor soul!"

Quickly denying any discomfort, Raibod insisted, "No, not at all! On the contrary, sleeping outside was refreshing and entirely pleasant. Not cold in the least!"

Sor, unconvinced, persisted, "You don't have to be brave for my sake! I know how freezing the jungle gets at night without fire or cover. You could get frostbite! What to do? What to do?"

After a moment's reflection, she resolved, "I can't take you to the hut for the night. If the master finds out, it complicates things. Instead, tomorrow morning, I'll bring you some woven straw blankets. It's not much, but it'll keep you warm at night!"

"Please, I don't need your help! I'm fine on my own!" Raibod almost begged.

Sor, undeterred, spoke with determination, "You don't have to put on a brave face. We, the slaves, sorry, I mean the citizens, must have each other's backs! I promise to assist you in any way I can. You can hide here until it's safe for you to move on."

With those words, Sor, visibly pressed for time, bid farewell to the young prince, waving as she sprinted away.

Left alone, Raibod stared at the unappetizing bread, contemplating his next move. Even in his darkest nightmares, he hadn't envisioned biting into something so horrendous. Despite his revulsion, a strange reluctance to discard it took hold. He brought the bread to his lips and took a hesitant bite. "Vomiting! I thought so!"