Now a knight always remembers to notice those around him, and Mikhail soon discovered he was not the only one in Altai Village who was faithful and true.
One day, as he and Spirit galloped off to fight warlocks in the north woods of the valley, he saw Aruzhan taking warm bread to the lonely widow at the edge of the village. While walking wearily back to his quarters after another long night awaiting the dragon, he spied Yerlan's daughter milking the cows in her sick neighbor's barn by the light of dawn. From his window above the blacksmith's workshop, he watched the exiled princess teach the candlemaker's daughters how to braid their hair.
“The princess tries very hard to help others feel important,” Spirit whispered to Mikhail in between mouthfuls of oats each morning.
And ever more often, Mikhail and Aruzhan found themselves atop the church tower together on late wintery nights to watch the dance of the northern lights.
“My father says the eastern pass is now free of snow,” Aruzhan spoke one evening as the familiar glow appeared over the mountains. “You are free to continue your quest.”
“Then the time has come for me to go.” For a knight always fulfills his duties. And yet...and yet a part of Mikhail's noble heart wished the mountain pass was still blocked. He had come to appreciate very deeply his friendship with this soft-hearted princess.
Oh, it's not easy to build friendships, you know. Nowadays, people mean many things when they say the word “friend.” Friends like and admire us for who we are, of course. But true friends are also the sort of people who set wonderful examples, who help us feel as though we want to be our best selves. When we are with them, we are often surprised by just how good we are. In short, true friends help us become nobler knights and gentler princesses.
“My father would go with you if he could,” Aruzhan continued softly. “I too would help if I knew how. As she reached a gloved hand to brush her hair from her eyes, Mikhail noticed a familiar red mark on his friend's arm beneath her sleeve.
“You were burned by the dragon that day,” he spoke quietly, but his voice turned grim.
“My father and I were both hurt that day,” Aruzhan nodded and slowly drew back the long sleeve of her colorful jacket. In the glow of the northern lights, Mikhail saw the thick red scar that twisted along the princess's left arm, an ugly burn long since healed.
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