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Old 06-21-2015, 08:37 PM   #5
Firefoot
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Join Date: Dec 2003
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Firefoot has been trapped in the Barrow!
Léof

Léof leaned against the fence, taking a break for a moment to watch the horses freshly released into the pasture. He found it necessary to take breaks frequently, these days: the effects of constant hunger taking their toll on him. He had always been thin, and though he had gained a few inches in height and his shoulders had broadened out since he had taken up his position at the Meadhall five years ago, he still did not have much in reserve to sustain him through these weeks of hunger. He’d found that keeping busy distracted him from his hunger, but that he was also losing the stamina to work for extended periods of time.

Finally, finally, it was warming up though, and he thought the horses were nearly as ready for spring as he was. He smiled as a pair of yearlings suddenly took off at a gallop, as if racing each other. He loved watching the young horses. Over the last several years, he (with plenty of help) had gotten a small breeding program started at the hall. Considering his near total lack of experience with breeding when he had gotten the whole thing started, he thought he was doing all right. With the combined knowledge of those at the Hall and some local horsemen who were friendly and generous with their advice, Léof had learned an enormous amount and was becoming ever more self-assured of his skills.

His first thought had actually been to breed Æthel, in large part because a foal might be worth good money. He had no coin for a stud fee, but instead had offered a share of the foal. That colt had been sold nearly three years ago, as a yearling, and had fetched quite a good price, leaving Léof’s pockets heavier than they’d ever been. One of the yearlings out there in the paddock now, in fact, was Æthel’s second foal, a lovely bay filly. Too thin, though – all the horses were, after this winter. One of the pregnant mares had lost her foal, and he was afraid that the others that would be born this spring and summer would be under-sized. Still, the horses were in better shape than their human counterparts: the first two harvests of hay had been unaffected, and since Athanar had left with most of his folk and their horses, there were sufficiently few horses that Léof had been able to make the hay last through the winter with the horses on reduced rations. He had estimated that he had less than a fortnight’s worth of hay left in the stable when the weather had finally broken earlier this week, rapidly melting the snow. The pastures were a soggy mess, and the grass was yellowed and sad-looking, but he thought it would provide ample nourishment to supplement the dwindling hay until more could be gotten.

Behind him, one of the children shrieked, startling him out of his reverie. He turned around and thought he saw in the distance a train of carts. His stomach twisted – could it be that finally they would have food again? He scarcely dared to hope, but made his way over to the front yard of the Hall to find out.

There were several carts, piled high with all sorts of supplies. He wondered how soon there might be food set out to eat. As he walked up, folk were already beginning to unload the carts. He realized with an unhappy start that attached to those carts were horses, all needing care and stabling. He hoped these newcomers were in a helpful sort of mood, because even the thought of handling all these new horses exhausted him. Nevertheless, he approached the nearest cart to get started.
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