The Writer will be able to find the Princess by following these simple instructions -- said Bonsai, without reading the parchment and looking far off into the distance, as if trying to concentrate. -- Okay. The Writer will have to follow the road that begins at the end of the main road to town. He will have to walk a long stretch and when he finds a fountain with the shape of a woman emptying a jug, then, the Writer will have reached.... The Fountain of the Woman Emptying a Jug... and from there, he still has a long way to go. But from there, at The Fountain of the Woman Emptying a Jug, the Writer will have to turn and take the road that he will clearly see to the right. Once he takes the road to the right, the Writer will have to walk another long stretch. When he thinks, “I think Iḿ lost” he will see a fresh water well in the distance and he will have to walk to it. When he gets to the fresh water well, the Writer will have then arrived...

At the fresh water well?

Exactly! Have you been there before?

No, it was just a guess.

Good one! Okay, let me tell you the rest of the way. Then, there at the fresh water well, I recommend that the Writer drink, because the well is exactly half way there. After drinking, the Writer must keep walking. When the Writer begins to think, “No one can live so far away,” he will finally see a little house where he will find the Princess. Good luck!

He stepped down from his stool, picked it up and disappeared again.

The Writer was immediately on his way; it was late, but the directions were very clear. He walked a long stretch and in fact, he arrived at a fountain with a statue of a woman emptying a jug. He took the path on the right and just when he thought he was lost, he saw the fresh water well in the distance. He arrived at the well, drank some water and hurried to get to the Princess before dark. As he walked, the Writer thought...

What could have happened? Why isn’t the Princess living at the castle? Is she sick? What about her children? What about the Dragon?

Suddenly, just when the Writer thought no one could live that far away, he saw a light coming from a small cottage hidden behind some trees. He walked over to the cottage, it was already dark. His heart was pounding in his chest, he walked over to a small picket fence and he could see the Dragon, lying on the floor by the fence gate.

Good evening, Dragon -- whispered the Writer.

The Dragon quickly lifted his head without turning to look at me. He didn’t move. He remained there. Quiet. As if making sure he had really heard me.

Yes, Dragon, it’s me.