The princess drifts down the river

The funny thing about the river Farcadia so often enjoyed bathing in is that, though it is calm and relaxing, it is still a river, and as such has a current. It is, however, slow enough that one could miss it if they aren't paying close attention. And since Farcadia's attention is currently occupied by the heavenly sensation of the magic water flowing over her breasts, she unfortunately forgets that little tidbit about the river.

The princess is also one for taking exuberantly long baths, so despite its slow pace, the current has plenty of time to carry her out of sight of her underwear and deeper into the forest. Slow and steady wins the race, and if the river were well-read enough to understand the allusion, it would consider itself a champion racer. In the two hours that Farcadia spends soaking, she floats out of view of the castle, down a slope into a forest of evergreen trees, around a moat that has seemingly occured naturally around the den of an animal that must enjoy its private time (and thus has had its identity scrubbed from the story), and into a narrow tributary before finally depositing herself on a shore of pillowy sand. Anyone witnessing this journey would find it incredibly beautiful and sexy, but readers will have to take this narrator's word for it. It's super hot, though, damn.

Farcadia stirs from her half-slumber as her back touched upon the sandy beach now serving as her cushion. "How sweet," she murmurs, "the maids have offered me a soft landing. Kara's so kind to me, isn't she?" She sits up and stretches her arms, water droplets falling off her sparkling skin. The princess always enjoys her outdoor baths, but this one may be the best she's had in a long while. The rest of her stuffy birthday party might not be so bad after that soak.

Getting to her feet, Farcadia starts to blink away the drowsiness from her eyes. She takes a step out of the water, feeling the wet sand squish between her toes. It's only when she steps off of the beach and onto solid ground that it occurs to her that there isn't sand along her river. Nor is there a gentle slope onto dry land, only solid edges that she always has to climb out of. The blurriness in her vision and brain parts for stark clarity as she gazes at her environment, which is most certainly not the field, distant castle, or rock holding her lingerie that she distinctly remembers leaving behind her. Instead, princess Farcadia is staring at...