Every mid-day, as the fog rode in on the waves of the winds, a beautiful sound would arise from a clearing within the redwoods. An audience of local fauna, forests spirits, and wonderful lights would come to this special clearing to listen to the songs; the most prettiest that have ever touched this kingdom since it's creation itself. Sitting upon a long dead tree stump, the young princess, Kaprice would gently take her reed-flute and play till her little heart could no longer draw the solid notes of her wishings. Till she once again breathed upon the inspiration of the forest air to continue it's rhythm; never-ending. Here, with her music, she was able to find her solace; away from her schoolbooks, away from the 12-inch rulers that left red marks upon her delicate skin. She would no longer have to fear the tutors that screamed at her for not finishing her essay on Maxxam's, The Importance of Being Opulent. Here she could shed the frilly clothes that her servants woefully clothed her in, and be one with herself; her thoughts, and her resonating misery. If one wish could be granted to her; here she would stay for a lifetime that the god's, on high, would allow.

Princess Kaprice had no care for the law of the land, and her gentle fingers could not closely resemble those of an iron fist. She was a lonely child; trapped in the loyalties of a birthright she had never asked for. Her voice was quiet and soft; unlike her mother who's loud and raspy voice would call for her servants to send her salt for the day's hunted. No, her voice was the innocence of a child; so pure and so sweet that one would think had been tranquilized with the touch of this morning's dew.

The Queen, on the other hand, was an angry woman. She was angry at her daughter who would forsake her studies to play a simple instrument simply because she liked it. Wasted hours would be spent; hours that could be used to learn to control the peddlers from climbing the walls of the inner sanctum. The Queen could not understand how one's time could occupy that of important politics. "Wasted time," her majesty though to herself. She called forth, from the denizens of the underground, the witch of the palace to aid her. " I want my daughter to become to be the best ruler of the kingdom she can possibly be," the Queen said to her. "A potion shall be mixed, on the day of your own death, that will do your bidding," said the old witch.

Years passed, and the Queen had become deathly ill. She had only days to live. Now was the time for the princess to assume her mother's role as Queen. The young girl wept as her mother was dying, but also because she knew her own fate was being sealed. Out of the shadows came the old witch. "Drink this," she said, "Perhaps some sweet water can ease you from you're heart-aching pain." The young princess raised the goblet to her soft lips, and she felt a fire upon them. They burned, as did the water that would slowly set her body into flames; into ashes, and then into smoke. The smoke of her self flew out the Queen's tiny window out into the forest to join the mid-day's fog. She did not know what has become of herself, but she could hear her voice howl amongst the trees. A beautiful sound she heard as she flew through the fallen trunks, around the tall redwoods, amongst the high branches, and down to the clearing that she always christened her kingdom. She could hear herself, singing with the winds; songs that she once called her own.

And once again, an audience of local fauna, forests spirits, and wonderful lights would come to this special clearing to listen to the songs. They would sit and listen to the beautiful tunes emanating from their Queen, the young Kaprice, which whom they loved ever so dearly.

The End.