Okay. I’m late. So what, I’m still going to let you have some Flash fun. And I bet in a week or two, it no longer matters.
The last enemy fell, slain by the swift sword of the man who had come in defense of Princess Charlotte. She lifted her skirts and daintily stepped over the corpse of the troll who had been in the process of ripping her dress.
“I thank you, my lord,” she said and dropped a courtesy. “To whom do I owe my freedom and life?”
The man bowed deeply. “My name is Ralph Flycatcher,” he answered. “And I am glad to have been of service.”
“You deserve a reward, my friend,” Charlotte walked over to him with quick, small steps more suited to a ballroom than a road strewn with corpses.
“Oh, don’t worry about that, my lady. I’ll be fine.”
“But you are my saviour. No, don’t protest.” She lifted a hand to his shoulder, and before he could duck, she bestowed a kiss on his unshaven cheek.
A bright flash made her close her eyes. When she opened them again, Ralph Flycatcher was gone. Charlotte blinked.
“Croak.” The voice was small, and sad.
At her feet, the Princess found a small, green frog, looking at her with plaintive eyes, sadly shaking its head.