Gilroy neighed lightly as he trotted through the sandy beach. Amy was walking beside the horse, gently pulling him by his reins. Henri was behind them, leading his black steed. The small waves crashed as it met the shore. Amy stared in fascination. Funny, she thought as the waters hit the sand. The tides tirelessly keep coming back, no matter how the sand just lets it slip away.
“So,” Henri began. “How was your meeting with the King?”
Amy stopped to pick an empty conch shell the size of her palm. “It was more of a small talk, really. I wouldn’t call it a meeting.” She continued walking.
“What did he say? Was the King angry at you?”
“Strangely enough, no,” she said, tossing the shell back to the sea. “At first I thought he will burst at me or burn me with his eyes, but he didn’t. He see
