Donald rode onward, dodging left and right to avoid the underbrush, until he had to dismount.  Leaving his horse, he pressed onward, finding his way through the forest.  He realized it was well past lunch now, and his stomach was rumbling, but he ignored the sound.  The dratted girl was the cause of all of his troubles, he thought.  Why did she have to be so difficult.<br/><br/>Passing into a clearing, he stooped down and sought  cover.  Just in front of him was the girl's horse, grazing, though he did not see the girl.  Creeping closer he stayed low, trying to sneak up on her, of she was indeed there.  She could have left her horse as he had.<br/><br/>Indeed not.  He found her laying on the ground in a heap, crying.  It was not what he expected.  Unbidden pity for her came to him.  He sunk down next to her and started to talk slowly and gently.  "There, there paupin.  There's no need for tears."  He reached out and touched her shoulder.