Sans Liege Mourvedre

She lost her leather sandal. The one with the gold key stashed in the sole. Here you were rooting quietly in the brush behind a the prince's quilted picnic. The nobles passing plates of rare hamburgers, smoked berries, chocolate dusted blueberry ice cream, cherry rugelch, and drams of birch beer. How hungry you are, how thirsty, but the key must be found. Digging under a pepper tree you catch the glint of gold, and return to the royal road.