[Envinyatar]

Derufin set his food on the desk that stood outside his quarters and looked down the row of now empty stalls. All the ponies and the few horses stabled at the Inn were out in the corral, beneath the great oak tree to the west of the building. He stood, looking at the last five stalls that needed mucking out, wondering if he should eat first or get the work done.

He chuckled to himself that he was even having this debate – the work always came first with him. Picking up the pitchfork that stood against the nearest stall post, he started in on the soiled hay with it, forking it into his wheelbarrow, and then used the scoop shovel for the rest of the refuse.

Once all the detritus of the equine nights was piled in the barrow, he forked in some fresh hay and changed all the waters. Done at last, he leaned for a moment on the pitchfork admiring his handiwork. ‘Enjoy it now, boyo,’ he said to himself. ‘A suns half rotation and you’ll be facing the same stinking mess as before.’

His hands were covered in sweat and grime from the handles of the implements he’d used. Wiping them on a rag hanging from a nail in the corner where he stowed the stables tools, he turned them back and forth looking at them critically. Too dirty by half to handle his sandwich, he strode out to the pump just to the west of the stable.

Derufin’s brows raised as he spied the thin young woman attempting to catch a lone hen who had ventured out of the coop in the midday sun. Just as she reached for it, he came up silently behind her. ‘You’ve a deft hand at stray hens, Miss. Thank you for your help.’ He reached down for the hen and tucked it under his arm as he regarded the girl, then settled the hen into the coop.

‘Come wash your hands and share some lunch with me,’ he said, pointing to the pump that stood about ten feet from them. ‘You can wait over there . . . that bench beneath the oak tree . . .’ He talked to her gently, as he would a skittish filly, leading her to the pump.

‘My lunch is just inside the stable,’ he said, drying his hands on his shirttails. ‘I’ll see you in a few moments.’

He had no idea if she would stay or run. He strolled back into the stable at a leisurely pace, not looking back . . .