|
“So whose was the horse you rode here, if not your own?”Léof asked as they stepped into the sunlight. Javan’s hands wandered to his pockets and his little face became serious as he answered, looking steadily at the ground.
“My father’s,” he said. “He has a great number of horses. He sells and buys a lot, but he mostly breeds mares and raises and trains the foals to sell when they’re three or so. He says I can have my own horse when I become thirteen, but until then, I have to prove myself trustworthy with horses and be able to manage them. So I do get to work with them quite a lot, with someone around. I’ve helped break a few colts, like you!” he said proudly, looking up.
He stopped abruptly, his eye having caught sight of something. An old man and a boy came into the courtyard together. Javan stared openly with childish curiosity and pity as the boy limped slightly on his way towards the Mead Hall.
“Who’s he?” Javan asked in a low voice to Léof. He nodded his head towards Lys.
|