Just as he said it, I saw my beloved daughter knock her arrow on a wooden, slender bow I hadn’t seen before. She looked to the left of us, peering into the woods over her weapon.

“What do you hear?” The Woodsman asked.

“Footsteps,” she replied in a voice I did not recognize.

“No footsteps, darling. This is our royal wood!”

As I finished talking, a throwing axe implanted itself into the tree by my head. I ducked and screamed as my daughter, only fourteen, drew arrows and unleashed them with such fury I could only sit amazed. I saw the man coming towards us, and then I saw him no more as he fell into the brush with five arrows in his chest.

“What was that about no footsteps, father?” She said, turning to me where I cowered.

I would have to get to know my daughter again.