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Yet another branch fell into Léon's face, close to poking him in the eye, as the last one had. Brushing the branch out of the way, Léonide found himself in a hopeless situation. Hours of cutting away foliage had brought him no closer into finding his lamb, not even so much as a caught piece of wool on a burr! Out of frustration, he threw down his blunt sword and pulled Arno closer by the reigns. The horse balked as well, Léon hadn't ridden him as much as he promised, and we was growing weary of all the walking. If the horse could speak, he would've pointed out to the shepherd that he had been covering much of the same ground. Perhaps this was by design, or by Léon's incompetence.
The time of day was impossible to tell from here, the thick span of leaves overhead blocked out the sun, and heavy clouds were forming. Each tree was indistinguishable from the last, Léon figured he'd find it hard to get home. Birds were singing blissfully, Léon wanted to knock one off their merry little perch. "How fast can a damned lamb walk?" he grumbled, to which Arno snorted. "He learned to walk not even three days ago! It took me at least a year!"
After a pause, Léon snatched back up his sword and sheathed it. Gripping Arno's reigns, he started again into the forest. His eyes preened every caven log and mossbed for a hint of white. Earlier, he had caught a trail of prints, but soon lost them. He couldn't even be sure they were a lambs’, he knew well that there were other animals in this forest, not all of which take kindly to sheep. And so there was a sense of urgency upon Léon. Only seven lambs had been born that year, out of a flock of a hundred, barely portion enough for leftovers.
As he went on, the bramble subsided, and he came to a clearing. Muted sunlight spilled in from behind the rainclouds, seasoning the thick grass and wildflowers in a dim gold. It came as much of a relief to Léonide, who was growing uneasy in the dark woods. Arno quickly tugged away his reigns and wandered into the clearing, "hey!" he called after him. Bending down to snap at a few blades of grass, Arno ignored Léon. The blonde man shook his head and ran a dirty hand under his chin, what could he do? Searching for another hour seemed pointless, but he knew the poor creature couldn't stand a night alone. Sighing, Léon flopped down onto a tree beside him.
In a moment of pseudo-serenity, Léonide could hear a nearby brook gurgling over rocks. The humming of bees passing over the clearing and kissing the flowers. If he wasn't so worried about his lamb, he might have enjoyed this moment. He picked up a blade of grass, and threw it aimlessly. ”What do you think, Arno?” he asked, bending over to pluck another blade of grass, ”keep looking, or give the wolves an easy snack?”
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
Yet another branch fell into Léon's face, close to poking him in the eye, as the last one had. Brushing the branch out of the way, Léonide found himself in a hopeless situation. Hours of cutting away foliage had brought him no closer into finding his lamb, not even so much as a caught piece of wool on a burr! Out of frustration, he threw down his blunt sword and pulled Arno closer by the reigns. The horse balked as well, Léon hadn't ridden him as much as he promised, and we was growing weary of all the walking. If the horse could speak, he would've pointed out to the shepherd that he had been covering much of the same ground. Perhaps this was by design, or by Léon's incompetence.
The time of day was impossible to tell from here, the thick span of leaves overhead blocked out the sun, and heavy clouds were forming. Each tree was indistinguishable from the last, Léon figured he'd find it hard to get home. Birds were singing blissfully, Léon wanted to knock one off their merry little perch. "How fast can a damned lamb walk?" he grumbled, to which Arno snorted. "He learned to walk not even three days ago! It took me at least a year!"
After a pause, Léon snatched back up his sword and sheathed it. Gripping Arno's reigns, he started again into the forest. His eyes preened every caven log and mossbed for a hint of white. Earlier, he had caught a trail of prints, but soon lost them. He couldn't even be sure they were a lambs’, he knew well that there were other animals in this forest, not all of which take kindly to sheep. And so there was a sense of urgency upon Léon. Only seven lambs had been born that year, out of a flock of a hundred, barely portion enough for leftovers.
As he went on, the bramble subsided, and he came to a clearing. Muted sunlight spilled in from behind the rainclouds, seasoning the thick grass and wildflowers in a dim gold. It came as much of a relief to Léonide, who was growing uneasy in the dark woods. Arno quickly tugged away his reigns and wandered into the clearing, "hey!" he called after him. Bending down to snap at a few blades of grass, Arno ignored Léon. The blonde man shook his head and ran a dirty hand under his chin, what could he do? Searching for another hour seemed pointless, but he knew the poor creature couldn't stand a night alone. Sighing, Léon flopped down onto a tree beside him.
In a moment of pseudo-serenity, Léonide could hear a nearby brook gurgling over rocks. The humming of bees passing over the clearing and kissing the flowers. If he wasn't so worried about his lamb, he might have enjoyed this moment. He picked up a blade of grass, and threw it aimlessly. ”What do you think, Arno?” he asked, bending over to pluck another blade of grass, ”keep looking, or give the wolves an easy snack?”
Yet another branch fell into Léon's face, close to poking him in the eye, as the last one had. Brushing the branch out of the way, Léonide found himself in a hopeless situation. Hours of cutting away foliage had brought him no closer into finding his lamb, not even so much as a caught piece of wool on a burr! Out of frustration, he threw down his blunt sword and pulled Arno closer by the reigns. The horse balked as well, Léon hadn't ridden him as much as he promised, and we was growing weary of all the walking. If the horse could speak, he would've pointed out to the shepherd that he had been covering much of the same ground. Perhaps this was by design, or by Léon's incompetence.
The time of day was impossible to tell from here, the thick span of leaves overhead blocked out the sun, and heavy clouds were forming. Each tree was indistinguishable from the last, Léon figured he'd find it hard to get home. Birds were singing blissfully, Léon wanted to knock one off their merry little perch. "How fast can a damned lamb walk?" he grumbled, to which Arno snorted. "He learned to walk not even three days ago! It took me at least a year!"
After a pause, Léon snatched back up his sword and sheathed it. Gripping Arno's reigns, he started again into the forest. His eyes preened every caven log and mossbed for a hint of white. Earlier, he had caught a trail of prints, but soon lost them. He couldn't even be sure they were a lambs’, he knew well that there were other animals in this forest, not all of which take kindly to sheep. And so there was a sense of urgency upon Léon. Only seven lambs had been born that year, out of a flock of a hundred, barely portion enough for leftovers.
As he went on, the bramble subsided, and he came to a clearing. Muted sunlight spilled in from behind the rainclouds, seasoning the thick grass and wildflowers in a dim gold. It came as much of a relief to Léonide, who was growing uneasy in the dark woods. Arno quickly tugged away his reigns and wandered into the clearing, "hey!" he called after him. Bending down to snap at a few blades of grass, Arno ignored Léon. The blonde man shook his head and ran a dirty hand under his chin, what could he do? Searching for another hour seemed pointless, but he knew the poor creature couldn't stand a night alone. Sighing, Léon flopped down onto a tree beside him.
In a moment of pseudo-serenity, Léonide could hear a nearby brook gurgling over rocks. The humming of bees passing over the clearing and kissing the flowers. If he wasn't so worried about his lamb, he might have enjoyed this moment. He picked up a blade of grass, and threw it aimlessly. ”What do you think, Arno?” he asked, bending over to pluck another blade of grass, ”keep looking, or give the wolves an easy snack?”
The switch in Evangelina hand smacked down on a passing tree as she half-walked and half-limbed forward. She’d known better than to take Altair out for a ride when it was windy. All it had taken was the rustle of brown leaf rolling in front of the grey stallion’s path to send him darting out from underneath her. Under normal circumstances, the little chestnut haired young woman would have been prepared but her mind had been elsewhere and like that… the Leventi had left behind in the small wooded area.
The loss of his rider had sent the sensitive stallion into a panic causing him to burst into an angry gallop, ears pinned and no idea where he was going. He was just running. Whatever hope she had of catching him vanished in the count of ten. She’d picked herself up, dusted herself off and watched as probably the single most valuable thing she owned ran away from her. Altair had once been as beautiful physically as he was pure in his blood but after a sordid history with an overly ambitious circus racer he’d been returned, labeled as problematic, and given up on. That was when he’d ended in Evie’s hands… that’d been several years previously, she’d started riding him last year but it might be said that he still wasn’t quite healed yet.
“Altair.” Her voice carried with a gentle firmness. She put her hands up to her lips and blew, a shrill whistle echoed out of her before she called him again, “Altair.” Clucking her tongue against her teeth she prayed the gods would keep him from doing anything dumb.
It was then, she heard the faint balling sound. She stopped, waited and listened. Nothing. Evie sighed and continued on until two more steps and that faint sound was heard again. She stopped and listened, this time the soft calling sound of a lamb was heard. Her eyes scoured the wooded area, what was there a lamb doing all the way out here? Clucking her tongue softly against her teeth, she cooed, “Here baby… come on baby… talk to me…”
The lamb balled again and her eyes managed to track the sound to a small bush and the tiny white bundle with a vine wrapped around it, effectively holding it captive. Slowly walking closer, she untangled the small creature. The switch in her hand fell and she picked the small creature up and cuddled him to her. “What are you doing out here baby? Where’s your mama?”
Cuddling the baby lamb up against her chest she continued. “How about we find Altair now and you can come home with me… I bet we’ve got some goat’s milk that would be pretty delicious?” She continued talking to the lamb. Her index finger playing with the baby’s hungry mouth. Her dark, Leventi brown eyes rose up and she glanced around, she’d better get a move on it. Altair needed to be found sooner rather than later.
“Altair!” She called, stepping out of the wooded area and headed for the softly rolling plains that she truly believed would have called to the grey stallion. “Altair?”
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The switch in Evangelina hand smacked down on a passing tree as she half-walked and half-limbed forward. She’d known better than to take Altair out for a ride when it was windy. All it had taken was the rustle of brown leaf rolling in front of the grey stallion’s path to send him darting out from underneath her. Under normal circumstances, the little chestnut haired young woman would have been prepared but her mind had been elsewhere and like that… the Leventi had left behind in the small wooded area.
The loss of his rider had sent the sensitive stallion into a panic causing him to burst into an angry gallop, ears pinned and no idea where he was going. He was just running. Whatever hope she had of catching him vanished in the count of ten. She’d picked herself up, dusted herself off and watched as probably the single most valuable thing she owned ran away from her. Altair had once been as beautiful physically as he was pure in his blood but after a sordid history with an overly ambitious circus racer he’d been returned, labeled as problematic, and given up on. That was when he’d ended in Evie’s hands… that’d been several years previously, she’d started riding him last year but it might be said that he still wasn’t quite healed yet.
“Altair.” Her voice carried with a gentle firmness. She put her hands up to her lips and blew, a shrill whistle echoed out of her before she called him again, “Altair.” Clucking her tongue against her teeth she prayed the gods would keep him from doing anything dumb.
It was then, she heard the faint balling sound. She stopped, waited and listened. Nothing. Evie sighed and continued on until two more steps and that faint sound was heard again. She stopped and listened, this time the soft calling sound of a lamb was heard. Her eyes scoured the wooded area, what was there a lamb doing all the way out here? Clucking her tongue softly against her teeth, she cooed, “Here baby… come on baby… talk to me…”
The lamb balled again and her eyes managed to track the sound to a small bush and the tiny white bundle with a vine wrapped around it, effectively holding it captive. Slowly walking closer, she untangled the small creature. The switch in her hand fell and she picked the small creature up and cuddled him to her. “What are you doing out here baby? Where’s your mama?”
Cuddling the baby lamb up against her chest she continued. “How about we find Altair now and you can come home with me… I bet we’ve got some goat’s milk that would be pretty delicious?” She continued talking to the lamb. Her index finger playing with the baby’s hungry mouth. Her dark, Leventi brown eyes rose up and she glanced around, she’d better get a move on it. Altair needed to be found sooner rather than later.
“Altair!” She called, stepping out of the wooded area and headed for the softly rolling plains that she truly believed would have called to the grey stallion. “Altair?”
The switch in Evangelina hand smacked down on a passing tree as she half-walked and half-limbed forward. She’d known better than to take Altair out for a ride when it was windy. All it had taken was the rustle of brown leaf rolling in front of the grey stallion’s path to send him darting out from underneath her. Under normal circumstances, the little chestnut haired young woman would have been prepared but her mind had been elsewhere and like that… the Leventi had left behind in the small wooded area.
The loss of his rider had sent the sensitive stallion into a panic causing him to burst into an angry gallop, ears pinned and no idea where he was going. He was just running. Whatever hope she had of catching him vanished in the count of ten. She’d picked herself up, dusted herself off and watched as probably the single most valuable thing she owned ran away from her. Altair had once been as beautiful physically as he was pure in his blood but after a sordid history with an overly ambitious circus racer he’d been returned, labeled as problematic, and given up on. That was when he’d ended in Evie’s hands… that’d been several years previously, she’d started riding him last year but it might be said that he still wasn’t quite healed yet.
“Altair.” Her voice carried with a gentle firmness. She put her hands up to her lips and blew, a shrill whistle echoed out of her before she called him again, “Altair.” Clucking her tongue against her teeth she prayed the gods would keep him from doing anything dumb.
It was then, she heard the faint balling sound. She stopped, waited and listened. Nothing. Evie sighed and continued on until two more steps and that faint sound was heard again. She stopped and listened, this time the soft calling sound of a lamb was heard. Her eyes scoured the wooded area, what was there a lamb doing all the way out here? Clucking her tongue softly against her teeth, she cooed, “Here baby… come on baby… talk to me…”
The lamb balled again and her eyes managed to track the sound to a small bush and the tiny white bundle with a vine wrapped around it, effectively holding it captive. Slowly walking closer, she untangled the small creature. The switch in her hand fell and she picked the small creature up and cuddled him to her. “What are you doing out here baby? Where’s your mama?”
Cuddling the baby lamb up against her chest she continued. “How about we find Altair now and you can come home with me… I bet we’ve got some goat’s milk that would be pretty delicious?” She continued talking to the lamb. Her index finger playing with the baby’s hungry mouth. Her dark, Leventi brown eyes rose up and she glanced around, she’d better get a move on it. Altair needed to be found sooner rather than later.
“Altair!” She called, stepping out of the wooded area and headed for the softly rolling plains that she truly believed would have called to the grey stallion. “Altair?”
Just as Léonide was going to allow himself to drift off into a short nap, the tattooing of hooves plucked open his eyes and tightened the cords in his neck. Believing it to be Arno, he leapt to his feet, only to find the bay stallion still lazily nipping at grass. Arno must've heard the hoofbeats, growing louder by the minute, as he turned his head towards them. Léonide looked around in confusion, drawing close to Arno and grabbing his reins. He swung onto his horse not a moment before Altair burst through the underbrush.
This spooked Arno, who reared; Léonide had to throw his weight into the front of the horse to avoid being thrown. No sooner had Altair appeared than did he vanish again into the forest. "That can't be good," Léon huffed under his breath. He looked back a moment at the clearing, giving up on finding the lamb. With shift push into Arno's sides, the horse was cantering after Altair.
Averting the steady onslaught of branches was a far more daunting task than actually catching up to the horse, which would've been easy in the open. Léonide was getting hit just as much as Arno, who clearly didn't find this chase worthwhile. As they gained on Altair, Léonide couldn't help but wonder where the horse had come from. He had seen a saddle and reins on it, so clearly a tame horse, but not his mothers. He could hear the loud pumping of his heart in his ears, and feel the booming clops of Arno's hooves in his legs. Coming beside the horse, and trusting Arno not to run into a tree, Léonide reached out for Altair's reins. They were farther than he had calculated, and so he stretched out, putting all faith in his right stirrup. His sweaty palms sabotaged his grip, and before he could pull the horse to slow it down he had to retreat back to the saddle to avoid an oncoming tree.
"Thanks for warning me," he jokingly spat to Arno as he tried again, this time succeeding in a firm grip near the cheek of the horse. Slowing both horses was quite strenuous, he knew he'd be feeling it in his everywhere for the next week. Altair gave resistance to Léon's clutch on the reins, he tied them to his saddle to make sure he wouldn't try anything. "Now, what're you running from?" Léon asked the grey stallion as he slid off his own saddle. From personal experience, horses couldn't talk, Léon could only guess what he was running from. Finding whoever owned Altair would be a challenge in its own right.
The best place to start was retracing his steps. Lucky for Léonide, a horse left much more defined prints than a lamb. He untied the reins from Arno's saddle, and pulled Altair alone. His own horse pranced up ahead to continue grazing. Altair didn't resist terribly, but showed no signs of being happy about being lead by a complete stranger. He was a pretty horse, much prettier than Arno (although he'd never say that to his face). Léon had always liked grey horses, they had an element of cleanliness and refinery to them. This horse was also rather well-groomed, he looked far more trim than an average stable horse. Léonide took note of the reins too, which were that of a delicate hand; Arno’s reins in comparison were practically ropes. Perhaps the stallion's owner was rather rich, or at least responsible.
After awhile, even the tracks of a horse such as Altair were blurred by the ferns and grass. He hadn't made it to the clearing yet, so he gave out a sharp whistle to Arno to return to him. "Arno, buddy, let's go," he called, whistling again. The horse came quickly, mouth full of grass. Léon climbed back onto Arno, and began towards where he believed the forest opened up into his grazing fields.
Luckily, he was correct, and both horses seemed to gloss over the remainder of the woods upon the sight of the fields. He nearly coaxed Arno into a gallop, until he heard the calling of an unfamiliar voice. He pulled hard on both of their reins, and paused to listen. It was the voice of a woman, much too young to be his mother's. "Altair!" was repeated over and over, to which the grey stallion’s ears perked up.
Léon looked at the horse, "I presume you're this 'Altair'," he put on a rather highfalutin tone without much cause. Starting Arno again, he walked out into the open.
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
Just as Léonide was going to allow himself to drift off into a short nap, the tattooing of hooves plucked open his eyes and tightened the cords in his neck. Believing it to be Arno, he leapt to his feet, only to find the bay stallion still lazily nipping at grass. Arno must've heard the hoofbeats, growing louder by the minute, as he turned his head towards them. Léonide looked around in confusion, drawing close to Arno and grabbing his reins. He swung onto his horse not a moment before Altair burst through the underbrush.
This spooked Arno, who reared; Léonide had to throw his weight into the front of the horse to avoid being thrown. No sooner had Altair appeared than did he vanish again into the forest. "That can't be good," Léon huffed under his breath. He looked back a moment at the clearing, giving up on finding the lamb. With shift push into Arno's sides, the horse was cantering after Altair.
Averting the steady onslaught of branches was a far more daunting task than actually catching up to the horse, which would've been easy in the open. Léonide was getting hit just as much as Arno, who clearly didn't find this chase worthwhile. As they gained on Altair, Léonide couldn't help but wonder where the horse had come from. He had seen a saddle and reins on it, so clearly a tame horse, but not his mothers. He could hear the loud pumping of his heart in his ears, and feel the booming clops of Arno's hooves in his legs. Coming beside the horse, and trusting Arno not to run into a tree, Léonide reached out for Altair's reins. They were farther than he had calculated, and so he stretched out, putting all faith in his right stirrup. His sweaty palms sabotaged his grip, and before he could pull the horse to slow it down he had to retreat back to the saddle to avoid an oncoming tree.
"Thanks for warning me," he jokingly spat to Arno as he tried again, this time succeeding in a firm grip near the cheek of the horse. Slowing both horses was quite strenuous, he knew he'd be feeling it in his everywhere for the next week. Altair gave resistance to Léon's clutch on the reins, he tied them to his saddle to make sure he wouldn't try anything. "Now, what're you running from?" Léon asked the grey stallion as he slid off his own saddle. From personal experience, horses couldn't talk, Léon could only guess what he was running from. Finding whoever owned Altair would be a challenge in its own right.
The best place to start was retracing his steps. Lucky for Léonide, a horse left much more defined prints than a lamb. He untied the reins from Arno's saddle, and pulled Altair alone. His own horse pranced up ahead to continue grazing. Altair didn't resist terribly, but showed no signs of being happy about being lead by a complete stranger. He was a pretty horse, much prettier than Arno (although he'd never say that to his face). Léon had always liked grey horses, they had an element of cleanliness and refinery to them. This horse was also rather well-groomed, he looked far more trim than an average stable horse. Léonide took note of the reins too, which were that of a delicate hand; Arno’s reins in comparison were practically ropes. Perhaps the stallion's owner was rather rich, or at least responsible.
After awhile, even the tracks of a horse such as Altair were blurred by the ferns and grass. He hadn't made it to the clearing yet, so he gave out a sharp whistle to Arno to return to him. "Arno, buddy, let's go," he called, whistling again. The horse came quickly, mouth full of grass. Léon climbed back onto Arno, and began towards where he believed the forest opened up into his grazing fields.
Luckily, he was correct, and both horses seemed to gloss over the remainder of the woods upon the sight of the fields. He nearly coaxed Arno into a gallop, until he heard the calling of an unfamiliar voice. He pulled hard on both of their reins, and paused to listen. It was the voice of a woman, much too young to be his mother's. "Altair!" was repeated over and over, to which the grey stallion’s ears perked up.
Léon looked at the horse, "I presume you're this 'Altair'," he put on a rather highfalutin tone without much cause. Starting Arno again, he walked out into the open.
Just as Léonide was going to allow himself to drift off into a short nap, the tattooing of hooves plucked open his eyes and tightened the cords in his neck. Believing it to be Arno, he leapt to his feet, only to find the bay stallion still lazily nipping at grass. Arno must've heard the hoofbeats, growing louder by the minute, as he turned his head towards them. Léonide looked around in confusion, drawing close to Arno and grabbing his reins. He swung onto his horse not a moment before Altair burst through the underbrush.
This spooked Arno, who reared; Léonide had to throw his weight into the front of the horse to avoid being thrown. No sooner had Altair appeared than did he vanish again into the forest. "That can't be good," Léon huffed under his breath. He looked back a moment at the clearing, giving up on finding the lamb. With shift push into Arno's sides, the horse was cantering after Altair.
Averting the steady onslaught of branches was a far more daunting task than actually catching up to the horse, which would've been easy in the open. Léonide was getting hit just as much as Arno, who clearly didn't find this chase worthwhile. As they gained on Altair, Léonide couldn't help but wonder where the horse had come from. He had seen a saddle and reins on it, so clearly a tame horse, but not his mothers. He could hear the loud pumping of his heart in his ears, and feel the booming clops of Arno's hooves in his legs. Coming beside the horse, and trusting Arno not to run into a tree, Léonide reached out for Altair's reins. They were farther than he had calculated, and so he stretched out, putting all faith in his right stirrup. His sweaty palms sabotaged his grip, and before he could pull the horse to slow it down he had to retreat back to the saddle to avoid an oncoming tree.
"Thanks for warning me," he jokingly spat to Arno as he tried again, this time succeeding in a firm grip near the cheek of the horse. Slowing both horses was quite strenuous, he knew he'd be feeling it in his everywhere for the next week. Altair gave resistance to Léon's clutch on the reins, he tied them to his saddle to make sure he wouldn't try anything. "Now, what're you running from?" Léon asked the grey stallion as he slid off his own saddle. From personal experience, horses couldn't talk, Léon could only guess what he was running from. Finding whoever owned Altair would be a challenge in its own right.
The best place to start was retracing his steps. Lucky for Léonide, a horse left much more defined prints than a lamb. He untied the reins from Arno's saddle, and pulled Altair alone. His own horse pranced up ahead to continue grazing. Altair didn't resist terribly, but showed no signs of being happy about being lead by a complete stranger. He was a pretty horse, much prettier than Arno (although he'd never say that to his face). Léon had always liked grey horses, they had an element of cleanliness and refinery to them. This horse was also rather well-groomed, he looked far more trim than an average stable horse. Léonide took note of the reins too, which were that of a delicate hand; Arno’s reins in comparison were practically ropes. Perhaps the stallion's owner was rather rich, or at least responsible.
After awhile, even the tracks of a horse such as Altair were blurred by the ferns and grass. He hadn't made it to the clearing yet, so he gave out a sharp whistle to Arno to return to him. "Arno, buddy, let's go," he called, whistling again. The horse came quickly, mouth full of grass. Léon climbed back onto Arno, and began towards where he believed the forest opened up into his grazing fields.
Luckily, he was correct, and both horses seemed to gloss over the remainder of the woods upon the sight of the fields. He nearly coaxed Arno into a gallop, until he heard the calling of an unfamiliar voice. He pulled hard on both of their reins, and paused to listen. It was the voice of a woman, much too young to be his mother's. "Altair!" was repeated over and over, to which the grey stallion’s ears perked up.
Léon looked at the horse, "I presume you're this 'Altair'," he put on a rather highfalutin tone without much cause. Starting Arno again, he walked out into the open.
By Argianos the weather was starting to shift away from the humid heat of late summer but the weather was changing and the crispness of fall was quickly encroaching on Taengea. Macendia was less familiar to Evangelina than Acharist; however, that was to be expected. As a girl, she’d spent more time in her uncle Georgio’s barony but as of late it was only on rarer occasions. So it was that Evangelina was not entirely familiar with the area she was at. When she’d left her uncle’s she’d assumed that the familiarity would come back to her and parts of it had… but several years had passed and things changed. This would teach her not to go storming off recklessly on her own in the future… maybe.
“A fine pair the two of us are…” She muttered the lamb and raised a hand to shield her hands from the westward sun. Where could of that blasted stallion have gone? Biting her lip, she imagined every terrible outcome in her mind that she could come up with and with her rather vivid imagination there were quite a few scenarios to be played through her mind.
Shifting the lamb in her arms, she continued calling her horse. Her hands came to her mouth several more times to let loose a shrill, whistle. Every minute that passed, Evangelina’s anxieties rose. It wasn’t like Altair to not return to her. It only furthered every bad thought in her mind that could have happened.
She’d spent so much time with him. He’d come to mean so much to her. When Nana outgrew her… she’d needed a project. A reason to get out of bed in the mornings. Evangelina had needed someone who needed her as much as she needed them. The first few months without Altair had been… bleak for her. She didn’t remember much except that every attempt she made at kinship with her cousin was offset. Nana didn’t have time that day for her. Or, Nana didn’t want to go riding. Or even no response at all.
What did you do when your best friend suddenly cut you off?
Evangelina mourned. She’d stopped eating. Stopped riding. She just stopped. Altair had been returned, angry and scared. Icarus, her father’s Master of Horse, had to drag her out of the house and had made the grey stallion her responsibility. The horse was a beast of burden to the Leventi family, that was what she’d been taught. Altair had brought about a different change to her. In short, she’d put a lot of blood, sweat, and tears in that grey stallion and he meant a great deal more to her than some expensive trinket that had been passed down several generations in her family. And he was out here somewhere… alone. Possibly hurt. And it this was her fault. If she’d not taken him out… If she’s not let go of the reins. What sort of horsewoman worth her salt let go of the reins when she fell? Whatever was wrong with her beloved stallion she was going to have to face it front and center because that was how Leventis dealt with her problems.
She called his name again, this time hearing and answering scream of her stallion from behind her. Her head shot around and coming from the wooded area she saw him. Lead by someone else astride a lovely bay. Evie’s dark eyes only fluttered over the individual for a few very brief seconds before they were instantly back on Altair, scanning any signs of injury even from this distance. No limps. He didn’t seem to be bleeding anywhere. Albeit, he was a bit sweaty… he did seem to be quite fit. Every piece of tension seemed to leave her body and she had to fight the urge to keep from bursting into tears. She’d taken falls before nothing seemed to rile her, it was more the stress wanting to find a way to leave her body. Biting the inside of her cheek she managed to keep the tears at bay and started towards the other group on shaky legs.
“I have to hand it to you,” Her voice carried a solidness to it. She would not appear weak. She would not hear that petulant tone most people carried when they spoke to her about horses. She was a Gods Damned Leventi. She was born on a horse. “Not many people have handled him have lived to tell the tale.” Okay, so that was entirely a stretch. Would glancing around to see if a lightning bolt was flying from the sky to smite her be a tale-tale sign? Zeus, please don’t smite me down for my little lie. Inhaling, she mustered up a brave face and shifted her new pet lamb in her arms.
“I am Lady Evangelina and that is Altair.” She jutted her chin out defiantly, almost egging him on to give her some lip. Everyone did. Altair was a lot of horse and she… well… she wasn’t very big. Her dark eyes settled on to the man still sitting in the saddle, a crick in her neck beginning to form.
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By Argianos the weather was starting to shift away from the humid heat of late summer but the weather was changing and the crispness of fall was quickly encroaching on Taengea. Macendia was less familiar to Evangelina than Acharist; however, that was to be expected. As a girl, she’d spent more time in her uncle Georgio’s barony but as of late it was only on rarer occasions. So it was that Evangelina was not entirely familiar with the area she was at. When she’d left her uncle’s she’d assumed that the familiarity would come back to her and parts of it had… but several years had passed and things changed. This would teach her not to go storming off recklessly on her own in the future… maybe.
“A fine pair the two of us are…” She muttered the lamb and raised a hand to shield her hands from the westward sun. Where could of that blasted stallion have gone? Biting her lip, she imagined every terrible outcome in her mind that she could come up with and with her rather vivid imagination there were quite a few scenarios to be played through her mind.
Shifting the lamb in her arms, she continued calling her horse. Her hands came to her mouth several more times to let loose a shrill, whistle. Every minute that passed, Evangelina’s anxieties rose. It wasn’t like Altair to not return to her. It only furthered every bad thought in her mind that could have happened.
She’d spent so much time with him. He’d come to mean so much to her. When Nana outgrew her… she’d needed a project. A reason to get out of bed in the mornings. Evangelina had needed someone who needed her as much as she needed them. The first few months without Altair had been… bleak for her. She didn’t remember much except that every attempt she made at kinship with her cousin was offset. Nana didn’t have time that day for her. Or, Nana didn’t want to go riding. Or even no response at all.
What did you do when your best friend suddenly cut you off?
Evangelina mourned. She’d stopped eating. Stopped riding. She just stopped. Altair had been returned, angry and scared. Icarus, her father’s Master of Horse, had to drag her out of the house and had made the grey stallion her responsibility. The horse was a beast of burden to the Leventi family, that was what she’d been taught. Altair had brought about a different change to her. In short, she’d put a lot of blood, sweat, and tears in that grey stallion and he meant a great deal more to her than some expensive trinket that had been passed down several generations in her family. And he was out here somewhere… alone. Possibly hurt. And it this was her fault. If she’d not taken him out… If she’s not let go of the reins. What sort of horsewoman worth her salt let go of the reins when she fell? Whatever was wrong with her beloved stallion she was going to have to face it front and center because that was how Leventis dealt with her problems.
She called his name again, this time hearing and answering scream of her stallion from behind her. Her head shot around and coming from the wooded area she saw him. Lead by someone else astride a lovely bay. Evie’s dark eyes only fluttered over the individual for a few very brief seconds before they were instantly back on Altair, scanning any signs of injury even from this distance. No limps. He didn’t seem to be bleeding anywhere. Albeit, he was a bit sweaty… he did seem to be quite fit. Every piece of tension seemed to leave her body and she had to fight the urge to keep from bursting into tears. She’d taken falls before nothing seemed to rile her, it was more the stress wanting to find a way to leave her body. Biting the inside of her cheek she managed to keep the tears at bay and started towards the other group on shaky legs.
“I have to hand it to you,” Her voice carried a solidness to it. She would not appear weak. She would not hear that petulant tone most people carried when they spoke to her about horses. She was a Gods Damned Leventi. She was born on a horse. “Not many people have handled him have lived to tell the tale.” Okay, so that was entirely a stretch. Would glancing around to see if a lightning bolt was flying from the sky to smite her be a tale-tale sign? Zeus, please don’t smite me down for my little lie. Inhaling, she mustered up a brave face and shifted her new pet lamb in her arms.
“I am Lady Evangelina and that is Altair.” She jutted her chin out defiantly, almost egging him on to give her some lip. Everyone did. Altair was a lot of horse and she… well… she wasn’t very big. Her dark eyes settled on to the man still sitting in the saddle, a crick in her neck beginning to form.
By Argianos the weather was starting to shift away from the humid heat of late summer but the weather was changing and the crispness of fall was quickly encroaching on Taengea. Macendia was less familiar to Evangelina than Acharist; however, that was to be expected. As a girl, she’d spent more time in her uncle Georgio’s barony but as of late it was only on rarer occasions. So it was that Evangelina was not entirely familiar with the area she was at. When she’d left her uncle’s she’d assumed that the familiarity would come back to her and parts of it had… but several years had passed and things changed. This would teach her not to go storming off recklessly on her own in the future… maybe.
“A fine pair the two of us are…” She muttered the lamb and raised a hand to shield her hands from the westward sun. Where could of that blasted stallion have gone? Biting her lip, she imagined every terrible outcome in her mind that she could come up with and with her rather vivid imagination there were quite a few scenarios to be played through her mind.
Shifting the lamb in her arms, she continued calling her horse. Her hands came to her mouth several more times to let loose a shrill, whistle. Every minute that passed, Evangelina’s anxieties rose. It wasn’t like Altair to not return to her. It only furthered every bad thought in her mind that could have happened.
She’d spent so much time with him. He’d come to mean so much to her. When Nana outgrew her… she’d needed a project. A reason to get out of bed in the mornings. Evangelina had needed someone who needed her as much as she needed them. The first few months without Altair had been… bleak for her. She didn’t remember much except that every attempt she made at kinship with her cousin was offset. Nana didn’t have time that day for her. Or, Nana didn’t want to go riding. Or even no response at all.
What did you do when your best friend suddenly cut you off?
Evangelina mourned. She’d stopped eating. Stopped riding. She just stopped. Altair had been returned, angry and scared. Icarus, her father’s Master of Horse, had to drag her out of the house and had made the grey stallion her responsibility. The horse was a beast of burden to the Leventi family, that was what she’d been taught. Altair had brought about a different change to her. In short, she’d put a lot of blood, sweat, and tears in that grey stallion and he meant a great deal more to her than some expensive trinket that had been passed down several generations in her family. And he was out here somewhere… alone. Possibly hurt. And it this was her fault. If she’d not taken him out… If she’s not let go of the reins. What sort of horsewoman worth her salt let go of the reins when she fell? Whatever was wrong with her beloved stallion she was going to have to face it front and center because that was how Leventis dealt with her problems.
She called his name again, this time hearing and answering scream of her stallion from behind her. Her head shot around and coming from the wooded area she saw him. Lead by someone else astride a lovely bay. Evie’s dark eyes only fluttered over the individual for a few very brief seconds before they were instantly back on Altair, scanning any signs of injury even from this distance. No limps. He didn’t seem to be bleeding anywhere. Albeit, he was a bit sweaty… he did seem to be quite fit. Every piece of tension seemed to leave her body and she had to fight the urge to keep from bursting into tears. She’d taken falls before nothing seemed to rile her, it was more the stress wanting to find a way to leave her body. Biting the inside of her cheek she managed to keep the tears at bay and started towards the other group on shaky legs.
“I have to hand it to you,” Her voice carried a solidness to it. She would not appear weak. She would not hear that petulant tone most people carried when they spoke to her about horses. She was a Gods Damned Leventi. She was born on a horse. “Not many people have handled him have lived to tell the tale.” Okay, so that was entirely a stretch. Would glancing around to see if a lightning bolt was flying from the sky to smite her be a tale-tale sign? Zeus, please don’t smite me down for my little lie. Inhaling, she mustered up a brave face and shifted her new pet lamb in her arms.
“I am Lady Evangelina and that is Altair.” She jutted her chin out defiantly, almost egging him on to give her some lip. Everyone did. Altair was a lot of horse and she… well… she wasn’t very big. Her dark eyes settled on to the man still sitting in the saddle, a crick in her neck beginning to form.
Léonide cracked a nervous smile as he handed the reigns of “Altair” to the lady. “I came close to losing my head to a tree,” he admitted, looking Evangelina up and down. She certainly seemed like the type to ride a horse like Altair, she too looked clean and wouldn’t be out of place in court. It didn’t surprise Léon when she introduced herself with the title “Lady”. He was suck on the question of whether or not he should bow.
Not wanting to seem rude, he did give her a nod of acknowledgement. Should he bow? Should he not bow? Poseidon above, talking to things capable of replying was hard. He was already making a fool of himself and he’d only shared a few words with her. First impressions are lasting impressions, no wonder his best friend was a horse.
Dismounting rather suddenly, he extended a dirty hand, took hers and gave it a shake. “I’m Léonide, and this is an ass,” he gave a loving, but rough pat on Aron’s shoulders. The horse snorted in displeasure. He let go of the hand, and he noticed his lamb. A wide smile grew on his face as all worry fled him. Maybe it wasn’t such a hot headed decision to chase after Altair!
“I guess we’re both lucky then! I’d been looking for that lamb! You little worm, how’d you get so far away?” he gently asked as he scratched the baby’s muzzle. It immediately began to nibble on his finger, which Léonide took as his que to be a shepard again. He went to Aron’s saddle, and produced a liquid-tight gorud, corked and drawn up in a forest of rope to keep it from spilling. He uncorked it and brought it to the lamb’s mouth, who quickly began to drink. “Your poor mother was bleating like no tomorrow, don’t you feel bad for her? Worried sick… oh of course you don’t care. I’ll tie you to her until you’re half her age if you try this again...”
After a time he took the gourd away and returned it to the saddle. ”Unfortunately that was only water and wine, he’ll notice sooner or later he’s still hungry,” he said to Evangelina. He got a second look at her, and he made passive judgement. She was attractive, as most of the nobility in this part of the world was. It didn’t take much for Léon to imagine all the men that must swoon over her, or the tight life she could be living for being guilty of the sin of youth. It made perfect sense to Léonide why she’d be in such a peaceful place like his pasture. “So, a Lady in my midst, and I talk to a lamb. Leventi I assume?” His ignorance to the houses and their structure would be laughable, by now he should understand it. His mother would have blushed at his lack of manners, not that there was much to expect from a shepherd boy.
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Léonide cracked a nervous smile as he handed the reigns of “Altair” to the lady. “I came close to losing my head to a tree,” he admitted, looking Evangelina up and down. She certainly seemed like the type to ride a horse like Altair, she too looked clean and wouldn’t be out of place in court. It didn’t surprise Léon when she introduced herself with the title “Lady”. He was suck on the question of whether or not he should bow.
Not wanting to seem rude, he did give her a nod of acknowledgement. Should he bow? Should he not bow? Poseidon above, talking to things capable of replying was hard. He was already making a fool of himself and he’d only shared a few words with her. First impressions are lasting impressions, no wonder his best friend was a horse.
Dismounting rather suddenly, he extended a dirty hand, took hers and gave it a shake. “I’m Léonide, and this is an ass,” he gave a loving, but rough pat on Aron’s shoulders. The horse snorted in displeasure. He let go of the hand, and he noticed his lamb. A wide smile grew on his face as all worry fled him. Maybe it wasn’t such a hot headed decision to chase after Altair!
“I guess we’re both lucky then! I’d been looking for that lamb! You little worm, how’d you get so far away?” he gently asked as he scratched the baby’s muzzle. It immediately began to nibble on his finger, which Léonide took as his que to be a shepard again. He went to Aron’s saddle, and produced a liquid-tight gorud, corked and drawn up in a forest of rope to keep it from spilling. He uncorked it and brought it to the lamb’s mouth, who quickly began to drink. “Your poor mother was bleating like no tomorrow, don’t you feel bad for her? Worried sick… oh of course you don’t care. I’ll tie you to her until you’re half her age if you try this again...”
After a time he took the gourd away and returned it to the saddle. ”Unfortunately that was only water and wine, he’ll notice sooner or later he’s still hungry,” he said to Evangelina. He got a second look at her, and he made passive judgement. She was attractive, as most of the nobility in this part of the world was. It didn’t take much for Léon to imagine all the men that must swoon over her, or the tight life she could be living for being guilty of the sin of youth. It made perfect sense to Léonide why she’d be in such a peaceful place like his pasture. “So, a Lady in my midst, and I talk to a lamb. Leventi I assume?” His ignorance to the houses and their structure would be laughable, by now he should understand it. His mother would have blushed at his lack of manners, not that there was much to expect from a shepherd boy.
Léonide cracked a nervous smile as he handed the reigns of “Altair” to the lady. “I came close to losing my head to a tree,” he admitted, looking Evangelina up and down. She certainly seemed like the type to ride a horse like Altair, she too looked clean and wouldn’t be out of place in court. It didn’t surprise Léon when she introduced herself with the title “Lady”. He was suck on the question of whether or not he should bow.
Not wanting to seem rude, he did give her a nod of acknowledgement. Should he bow? Should he not bow? Poseidon above, talking to things capable of replying was hard. He was already making a fool of himself and he’d only shared a few words with her. First impressions are lasting impressions, no wonder his best friend was a horse.
Dismounting rather suddenly, he extended a dirty hand, took hers and gave it a shake. “I’m Léonide, and this is an ass,” he gave a loving, but rough pat on Aron’s shoulders. The horse snorted in displeasure. He let go of the hand, and he noticed his lamb. A wide smile grew on his face as all worry fled him. Maybe it wasn’t such a hot headed decision to chase after Altair!
“I guess we’re both lucky then! I’d been looking for that lamb! You little worm, how’d you get so far away?” he gently asked as he scratched the baby’s muzzle. It immediately began to nibble on his finger, which Léonide took as his que to be a shepard again. He went to Aron’s saddle, and produced a liquid-tight gorud, corked and drawn up in a forest of rope to keep it from spilling. He uncorked it and brought it to the lamb’s mouth, who quickly began to drink. “Your poor mother was bleating like no tomorrow, don’t you feel bad for her? Worried sick… oh of course you don’t care. I’ll tie you to her until you’re half her age if you try this again...”
After a time he took the gourd away and returned it to the saddle. ”Unfortunately that was only water and wine, he’ll notice sooner or later he’s still hungry,” he said to Evangelina. He got a second look at her, and he made passive judgement. She was attractive, as most of the nobility in this part of the world was. It didn’t take much for Léon to imagine all the men that must swoon over her, or the tight life she could be living for being guilty of the sin of youth. It made perfect sense to Léonide why she’d be in such a peaceful place like his pasture. “So, a Lady in my midst, and I talk to a lamb. Leventi I assume?” His ignorance to the houses and their structure would be laughable, by now he should understand it. His mother would have blushed at his lack of manners, not that there was much to expect from a shepherd boy.
Evangelina didn’t immediately reach out and take the reins of her horse. Instead, she narrowed her eyes to stare him down. Waiting for that moment of patronizing male chauvinism that seemed to pop up in most men when confronted by a woman who didn’t need or want to be helped or rescued. She waited for that moment that he’d pat her on the head and tell her that he’d make sure that she and her horse arrived back at the estate in one piece and the lecture of a more suitable mount. Her chin jutted out prepared to make her stand.
The man countered with an easy smile and words about almost losing his head to a tree. Her mouth turned downward in a perplexed and uncertain line and reached out for her reins taking them.
“It was my fault.” She sighed heavily, shifting the lamb torn between needing to reach out and pet her horse and not wanting to let go of the lamb. He was hers… she found him. “I am afraid I lost myself in thought and… “ There wasn’t any need to gush about the fact that Altair still wasn’t comfortable with sudden movements. Until the man was suddenly stepping out of the saddle and Altair was throwing his head up and backing away, jerking his young rider almost off her feet.
“Hey…...Hey...Altair. Whoa,” Her voice was firm but not scolding, resulting in Altair giving another loud snort as he gave the man a side eye, but his regressive steps stopped. Another moment passed before Evie turned back to the man and tugged Altair back up to the group. “Master Léonide… an ass?” She blinked her dark eyes in confusion. Had she heard him right? Surely not. Her gaze shifted to the bay then to the man then back to the bay.
Her eyes widen a fraction wider as he announced he’d been looking for her new pet. Blinking her gaze dropped to the lamb. Would it be entirely rude to take off running with Altair and her new pet? Pursing her lips, “This is your lamb?” And then he mentioned tying the baby to his mother and she took a step back. “Excuse me?!” Something akin to horror in her tone. Was he joking? Evangelina didn’t know enough about shepherds to know if that was something done or not done. It definitely was not done with their horses. Wine and water. Her mouth opened agree and she might have if she still wasn’t wondering about the tying it to its mother. “How do I know this is your lamb?” She narrowed her gaze at him again.
“I… Yes. Though not one of Lord Georgios’ daughters. I am Lord Konstantos’ daughter.” How’d they ended up discussing who she was? She didn’t miss the scan of her appearance and she realized what a disheveled mess she must still have looked having taken a tumble on Altair. Jutting her chin out again, “I’ve become rather attached to this little fellow. I’m afraid, I’ll need to see his mother before I turn him over to you. I would hate for him to end up in your pot tonight.”
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Evangelina didn’t immediately reach out and take the reins of her horse. Instead, she narrowed her eyes to stare him down. Waiting for that moment of patronizing male chauvinism that seemed to pop up in most men when confronted by a woman who didn’t need or want to be helped or rescued. She waited for that moment that he’d pat her on the head and tell her that he’d make sure that she and her horse arrived back at the estate in one piece and the lecture of a more suitable mount. Her chin jutted out prepared to make her stand.
The man countered with an easy smile and words about almost losing his head to a tree. Her mouth turned downward in a perplexed and uncertain line and reached out for her reins taking them.
“It was my fault.” She sighed heavily, shifting the lamb torn between needing to reach out and pet her horse and not wanting to let go of the lamb. He was hers… she found him. “I am afraid I lost myself in thought and… “ There wasn’t any need to gush about the fact that Altair still wasn’t comfortable with sudden movements. Until the man was suddenly stepping out of the saddle and Altair was throwing his head up and backing away, jerking his young rider almost off her feet.
“Hey…...Hey...Altair. Whoa,” Her voice was firm but not scolding, resulting in Altair giving another loud snort as he gave the man a side eye, but his regressive steps stopped. Another moment passed before Evie turned back to the man and tugged Altair back up to the group. “Master Léonide… an ass?” She blinked her dark eyes in confusion. Had she heard him right? Surely not. Her gaze shifted to the bay then to the man then back to the bay.
Her eyes widen a fraction wider as he announced he’d been looking for her new pet. Blinking her gaze dropped to the lamb. Would it be entirely rude to take off running with Altair and her new pet? Pursing her lips, “This is your lamb?” And then he mentioned tying the baby to his mother and she took a step back. “Excuse me?!” Something akin to horror in her tone. Was he joking? Evangelina didn’t know enough about shepherds to know if that was something done or not done. It definitely was not done with their horses. Wine and water. Her mouth opened agree and she might have if she still wasn’t wondering about the tying it to its mother. “How do I know this is your lamb?” She narrowed her gaze at him again.
“I… Yes. Though not one of Lord Georgios’ daughters. I am Lord Konstantos’ daughter.” How’d they ended up discussing who she was? She didn’t miss the scan of her appearance and she realized what a disheveled mess she must still have looked having taken a tumble on Altair. Jutting her chin out again, “I’ve become rather attached to this little fellow. I’m afraid, I’ll need to see his mother before I turn him over to you. I would hate for him to end up in your pot tonight.”
Evangelina didn’t immediately reach out and take the reins of her horse. Instead, she narrowed her eyes to stare him down. Waiting for that moment of patronizing male chauvinism that seemed to pop up in most men when confronted by a woman who didn’t need or want to be helped or rescued. She waited for that moment that he’d pat her on the head and tell her that he’d make sure that she and her horse arrived back at the estate in one piece and the lecture of a more suitable mount. Her chin jutted out prepared to make her stand.
The man countered with an easy smile and words about almost losing his head to a tree. Her mouth turned downward in a perplexed and uncertain line and reached out for her reins taking them.
“It was my fault.” She sighed heavily, shifting the lamb torn between needing to reach out and pet her horse and not wanting to let go of the lamb. He was hers… she found him. “I am afraid I lost myself in thought and… “ There wasn’t any need to gush about the fact that Altair still wasn’t comfortable with sudden movements. Until the man was suddenly stepping out of the saddle and Altair was throwing his head up and backing away, jerking his young rider almost off her feet.
“Hey…...Hey...Altair. Whoa,” Her voice was firm but not scolding, resulting in Altair giving another loud snort as he gave the man a side eye, but his regressive steps stopped. Another moment passed before Evie turned back to the man and tugged Altair back up to the group. “Master Léonide… an ass?” She blinked her dark eyes in confusion. Had she heard him right? Surely not. Her gaze shifted to the bay then to the man then back to the bay.
Her eyes widen a fraction wider as he announced he’d been looking for her new pet. Blinking her gaze dropped to the lamb. Would it be entirely rude to take off running with Altair and her new pet? Pursing her lips, “This is your lamb?” And then he mentioned tying the baby to his mother and she took a step back. “Excuse me?!” Something akin to horror in her tone. Was he joking? Evangelina didn’t know enough about shepherds to know if that was something done or not done. It definitely was not done with their horses. Wine and water. Her mouth opened agree and she might have if she still wasn’t wondering about the tying it to its mother. “How do I know this is your lamb?” She narrowed her gaze at him again.
“I… Yes. Though not one of Lord Georgios’ daughters. I am Lord Konstantos’ daughter.” How’d they ended up discussing who she was? She didn’t miss the scan of her appearance and she realized what a disheveled mess she must still have looked having taken a tumble on Altair. Jutting her chin out again, “I’ve become rather attached to this little fellow. I’m afraid, I’ll need to see his mother before I turn him over to you. I would hate for him to end up in your pot tonight.”
“Oh? No I wouldn’t eat him, not at this age. Not enough meat on him,” he teased as he tapped the lamb on the nose. He expected her to draw the lamb away, he certainly wasn’t making his case any easier to believe. She was a lady after all, his low-brow humor must pass her as barbaric, and uneducated. It came as no surprise to him that she had grown attached to the lamb, who wouldn’t? “Cutie for sure… but looks can be quite deceiving, this one’s a troublemaker if I’ve ever known one,” he turned to Arno to see if the horse would agree, but he was already probing the ground for some good grass to eat.
Léonide was surprised that she’d given him a title ahead of his name when she echoed it back to him. Often, he wasn’t even called by his name. “You there”, “shepard boy”, or “get out of my way” were what Léonide was best known by the rest of the providence. “You here that Arno? Master Léonide,” he whispered with a nudge. The horse could care less about his moment of glory. Being spoken to was a honor, especially by a nobility. He must look nutty.
But his glimmer of pride was dimmed by the lady’s doubt in his ownership of the lamb. Wasn’t the drab clothing and sheepskin saddle blanket clue enough? Apparently not, but he didn’t mind boasting his flock, and so he would. He shrugged and kept beaming, “guess I’ll have to show you to the mother. She’s my mother’s favorite ewe.”
“Here, I’ll take him for now,” he plucked the lamb from her arms and placed him on his shoulders, as if the baby were a scarf. As much as he was a grown man, he still bent a bit under the weight. He needed to build up those muscles. “You can ride Altair there? It’s not far, only a ways down that hill,” his finger jutted out to a vague point down the meadow. And with that, he swung himself back onto Arno, to the discomfort of Altair.
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“Oh? No I wouldn’t eat him, not at this age. Not enough meat on him,” he teased as he tapped the lamb on the nose. He expected her to draw the lamb away, he certainly wasn’t making his case any easier to believe. She was a lady after all, his low-brow humor must pass her as barbaric, and uneducated. It came as no surprise to him that she had grown attached to the lamb, who wouldn’t? “Cutie for sure… but looks can be quite deceiving, this one’s a troublemaker if I’ve ever known one,” he turned to Arno to see if the horse would agree, but he was already probing the ground for some good grass to eat.
Léonide was surprised that she’d given him a title ahead of his name when she echoed it back to him. Often, he wasn’t even called by his name. “You there”, “shepard boy”, or “get out of my way” were what Léonide was best known by the rest of the providence. “You here that Arno? Master Léonide,” he whispered with a nudge. The horse could care less about his moment of glory. Being spoken to was a honor, especially by a nobility. He must look nutty.
But his glimmer of pride was dimmed by the lady’s doubt in his ownership of the lamb. Wasn’t the drab clothing and sheepskin saddle blanket clue enough? Apparently not, but he didn’t mind boasting his flock, and so he would. He shrugged and kept beaming, “guess I’ll have to show you to the mother. She’s my mother’s favorite ewe.”
“Here, I’ll take him for now,” he plucked the lamb from her arms and placed him on his shoulders, as if the baby were a scarf. As much as he was a grown man, he still bent a bit under the weight. He needed to build up those muscles. “You can ride Altair there? It’s not far, only a ways down that hill,” his finger jutted out to a vague point down the meadow. And with that, he swung himself back onto Arno, to the discomfort of Altair.
“Oh? No I wouldn’t eat him, not at this age. Not enough meat on him,” he teased as he tapped the lamb on the nose. He expected her to draw the lamb away, he certainly wasn’t making his case any easier to believe. She was a lady after all, his low-brow humor must pass her as barbaric, and uneducated. It came as no surprise to him that she had grown attached to the lamb, who wouldn’t? “Cutie for sure… but looks can be quite deceiving, this one’s a troublemaker if I’ve ever known one,” he turned to Arno to see if the horse would agree, but he was already probing the ground for some good grass to eat.
Léonide was surprised that she’d given him a title ahead of his name when she echoed it back to him. Often, he wasn’t even called by his name. “You there”, “shepard boy”, or “get out of my way” were what Léonide was best known by the rest of the providence. “You here that Arno? Master Léonide,” he whispered with a nudge. The horse could care less about his moment of glory. Being spoken to was a honor, especially by a nobility. He must look nutty.
But his glimmer of pride was dimmed by the lady’s doubt in his ownership of the lamb. Wasn’t the drab clothing and sheepskin saddle blanket clue enough? Apparently not, but he didn’t mind boasting his flock, and so he would. He shrugged and kept beaming, “guess I’ll have to show you to the mother. She’s my mother’s favorite ewe.”
“Here, I’ll take him for now,” he plucked the lamb from her arms and placed him on his shoulders, as if the baby were a scarf. As much as he was a grown man, he still bent a bit under the weight. He needed to build up those muscles. “You can ride Altair there? It’s not far, only a ways down that hill,” his finger jutted out to a vague point down the meadow. And with that, he swung himself back onto Arno, to the discomfort of Altair.
Wincing at his poor choice of words, it took everything in her to keep from stepping backward as he reached out to tap the lamb on the nose. It wasn’t so much that she had a problem with eating suckling lambs, but rather she had trouble dealing with people who patronized her. It was evident he had already formed an opinion of her. As he turned around and uttered a poorer choice of words to his horse, she arched an eyebrow at his back and bit the inside of her cheek. Had she not had her hands full she’d have not hesitated to sucker punch the shepherd.
“Let’s hope you are referring to the lamb,” Evangelina murmured cooly, her gaze settling on the shepherd not being that naive to the game of wits he was playing. Turning her attention to the lamb she stroked him again with her hand that held Altair’s reins, her voice softly daring the shepherd. “You sir, have absolutely no idea what sort of troublemaker I can be.” Lifting her gaze a just enough to glance at him before she smiled with a cloying sweetness.
He rattled on to the horse, and it did cross her mind that she was standing there conversing to a madman. That would be her luck, wouldn’t it? She sighed, her body shifting closer to her horse and just a bit further away from the man.
“I hate to interrupt you and your horse’s in-depth conversation but I am growing older standing here waiting.” She cut him off dryly.
‘Guess I’ll have to show you to the mother. She’s my mother’s favorite ewe.’
“Fraid so…” Her bland sardonic tone murmured again, this time her gaze took in his horse who wasn’t half bad though not a Leventi horse. If she’s not been paying as much attention to the horse she might have been prepared when Leonide plucked the lamb from her arms. As it was, her dark eyes widened blinking and her mouth opened to protest it but she let the protests die with another thinned lip frown at him.
Glancing over the man again, an indignant huff escaped. He might have exceeded her in height but she was sturdier. Her hours in the stables starting some of the colts had given the smaller young woman a sturdy, lean muscled build that was more than capable of handling her own in a brawl. Well... with midgets anyway.
‘You can ride Altair there? It’s not far, only a ways down that hill.’
Was that a question? She arched a brow at him and let him mount before she shook her head and with the lightness of a seasoned calvary officer bounced lightly into her stallion’s saddle. She might not have been graceful on her own two legs but on a horse… it was hard to rival her grace. It was the only thing that kept her sane when she tripped over her own legs and wondered why she couldn’t walk across a flat surface without almost killing herself. Her cousins could sweep into a room with the grace of a queen… she… she just had that sort of grace when she was in the saddle. Somedays it was a curse… others… no… most days it was a blessing.
“Let’s see this sheep of yours, Master Leonide.” She sighed. Her heels never touched the stallion’s side as she urged him forward with the simple, light pressure of her thighs. He started off at a brisk, controlled walk passing the bay gelding with almost as much smugness as his rider. Gods! Altair, you are going to get every carrot I can swipe out of the kitchen for that...
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Wincing at his poor choice of words, it took everything in her to keep from stepping backward as he reached out to tap the lamb on the nose. It wasn’t so much that she had a problem with eating suckling lambs, but rather she had trouble dealing with people who patronized her. It was evident he had already formed an opinion of her. As he turned around and uttered a poorer choice of words to his horse, she arched an eyebrow at his back and bit the inside of her cheek. Had she not had her hands full she’d have not hesitated to sucker punch the shepherd.
“Let’s hope you are referring to the lamb,” Evangelina murmured cooly, her gaze settling on the shepherd not being that naive to the game of wits he was playing. Turning her attention to the lamb she stroked him again with her hand that held Altair’s reins, her voice softly daring the shepherd. “You sir, have absolutely no idea what sort of troublemaker I can be.” Lifting her gaze a just enough to glance at him before she smiled with a cloying sweetness.
He rattled on to the horse, and it did cross her mind that she was standing there conversing to a madman. That would be her luck, wouldn’t it? She sighed, her body shifting closer to her horse and just a bit further away from the man.
“I hate to interrupt you and your horse’s in-depth conversation but I am growing older standing here waiting.” She cut him off dryly.
‘Guess I’ll have to show you to the mother. She’s my mother’s favorite ewe.’
“Fraid so…” Her bland sardonic tone murmured again, this time her gaze took in his horse who wasn’t half bad though not a Leventi horse. If she’s not been paying as much attention to the horse she might have been prepared when Leonide plucked the lamb from her arms. As it was, her dark eyes widened blinking and her mouth opened to protest it but she let the protests die with another thinned lip frown at him.
Glancing over the man again, an indignant huff escaped. He might have exceeded her in height but she was sturdier. Her hours in the stables starting some of the colts had given the smaller young woman a sturdy, lean muscled build that was more than capable of handling her own in a brawl. Well... with midgets anyway.
‘You can ride Altair there? It’s not far, only a ways down that hill.’
Was that a question? She arched a brow at him and let him mount before she shook her head and with the lightness of a seasoned calvary officer bounced lightly into her stallion’s saddle. She might not have been graceful on her own two legs but on a horse… it was hard to rival her grace. It was the only thing that kept her sane when she tripped over her own legs and wondered why she couldn’t walk across a flat surface without almost killing herself. Her cousins could sweep into a room with the grace of a queen… she… she just had that sort of grace when she was in the saddle. Somedays it was a curse… others… no… most days it was a blessing.
“Let’s see this sheep of yours, Master Leonide.” She sighed. Her heels never touched the stallion’s side as she urged him forward with the simple, light pressure of her thighs. He started off at a brisk, controlled walk passing the bay gelding with almost as much smugness as his rider. Gods! Altair, you are going to get every carrot I can swipe out of the kitchen for that...
Wincing at his poor choice of words, it took everything in her to keep from stepping backward as he reached out to tap the lamb on the nose. It wasn’t so much that she had a problem with eating suckling lambs, but rather she had trouble dealing with people who patronized her. It was evident he had already formed an opinion of her. As he turned around and uttered a poorer choice of words to his horse, she arched an eyebrow at his back and bit the inside of her cheek. Had she not had her hands full she’d have not hesitated to sucker punch the shepherd.
“Let’s hope you are referring to the lamb,” Evangelina murmured cooly, her gaze settling on the shepherd not being that naive to the game of wits he was playing. Turning her attention to the lamb she stroked him again with her hand that held Altair’s reins, her voice softly daring the shepherd. “You sir, have absolutely no idea what sort of troublemaker I can be.” Lifting her gaze a just enough to glance at him before she smiled with a cloying sweetness.
He rattled on to the horse, and it did cross her mind that she was standing there conversing to a madman. That would be her luck, wouldn’t it? She sighed, her body shifting closer to her horse and just a bit further away from the man.
“I hate to interrupt you and your horse’s in-depth conversation but I am growing older standing here waiting.” She cut him off dryly.
‘Guess I’ll have to show you to the mother. She’s my mother’s favorite ewe.’
“Fraid so…” Her bland sardonic tone murmured again, this time her gaze took in his horse who wasn’t half bad though not a Leventi horse. If she’s not been paying as much attention to the horse she might have been prepared when Leonide plucked the lamb from her arms. As it was, her dark eyes widened blinking and her mouth opened to protest it but she let the protests die with another thinned lip frown at him.
Glancing over the man again, an indignant huff escaped. He might have exceeded her in height but she was sturdier. Her hours in the stables starting some of the colts had given the smaller young woman a sturdy, lean muscled build that was more than capable of handling her own in a brawl. Well... with midgets anyway.
‘You can ride Altair there? It’s not far, only a ways down that hill.’
Was that a question? She arched a brow at him and let him mount before she shook her head and with the lightness of a seasoned calvary officer bounced lightly into her stallion’s saddle. She might not have been graceful on her own two legs but on a horse… it was hard to rival her grace. It was the only thing that kept her sane when she tripped over her own legs and wondered why she couldn’t walk across a flat surface without almost killing herself. Her cousins could sweep into a room with the grace of a queen… she… she just had that sort of grace when she was in the saddle. Somedays it was a curse… others… no… most days it was a blessing.
“Let’s see this sheep of yours, Master Leonide.” She sighed. Her heels never touched the stallion’s side as she urged him forward with the simple, light pressure of her thighs. He started off at a brisk, controlled walk passing the bay gelding with almost as much smugness as his rider. Gods! Altair, you are going to get every carrot I can swipe out of the kitchen for that...
“Of course I’m talking about the lamb,” Léon scoffed as he quietly placed an unsubtle insult under his breath. He was about to say something more, but Arno started to tug. The horse had more sense than him, he should seriously stop running his mouth.
The way she winced and wiggled was laughable to the shepherd, the sensitivities of court-folk never seemed to change. She was a curious breed of woman, he could see her eyes similar to that of a cobra’s, ready to strike without much a warning. So it should be, he supposed. He was a stranger, and she was a lady. It brought him quiet joy the way she acted as if he’d hit her when he took his lamb from her. It wasn’t that he disliked her, but she had accused him of lamb swindling and potential murder with a thank you still in order.
He became stuck on the idea of riding quickly off without her when suddenly she and Altair sprung to life. He didn’t just eat his words, he choked on them. Feeling rather silly for his question, he watched in horror as Evie glide with divine grace away from him. It was surreal to see a beast like Altair guided so carefully, with such precision that it had to have been conducted by the gods. Squirming gently under the weight of his lamb, Léon followed. It was an understatement to say his riding paled in comparison. It was embarrassing,following her on his own land. But, it was a punishment he had to bear, lest he offend Lady Evangelina again. Heat flushed across his face. Arno was moving slowly on purpose, wasn’t he?
As a noble woman, she must have a lot of time to waste learning how to become one with her horse, that or he had upset a god in disguise.
“Let’s see this sheep of yours, Master Leonide.” Léonide bit his tongue, nodded curtly and begged Arno move a bit faster forward, just enough so he could get ahead of her. It was a dream never to come true- Arno never needed to go fast, the sheep were rarely spooked and when they were they never went farther than the tall grass by the forest’s edge. Today was no exception to Arno’s sloth. Because of this, the bay gave a rather annoyed huff before picking the pace up enough to pass Evangelina. It didn’t take long, gods be thanked for that. His house came into view in minute’s time.
She must’ve been laughing to herself when she saw it. It was no bigger than the stables he had back in the north, only a three room house with an open air “courtyard” (if one could call it that) that seemed critical in every Greek home. Its walls were made of stone and clay, though most of the sidings had been chipped and were left unpainted. The roof was so shallow it covered most of the narrow windows placed high up on the walls, in some places it was broken to allow ventilation for the fires inside. There was also a campfire on the outside nearest to them, beside it an older woman was disturbing the coals while a few sheep followed her about. She turned as she heard their hoofbeats approaching, and pulsed a bit in surprise upon seeing more than one person.
He nearly greeted her, but he caught himself. Evie must’ve already thought he was insane, it wouldn’t do him any good to start speaking to his mother in the only language she knew. So, he spared her a wave, which she returned, and he passed the house towards the bulk of the flock. The sheep dotted the grass like clouds in the sky. They saw Arno and him and began gathering like goose to grain, he couldn’t help but smile. “This is my family,” he chirped to Evie as he swung himself off of Arno. The lamb on his back tried to jump off and join the rest of the sheep, but he caught it. “We have to find you mother first.”
He turned Arno loose by sliding off his reins, and looked at Evangelina. The lamb’s mother should come running, where was she? Any minute now. Any minute now.
Several moments passed, and nothing. The lamb had started up a horrendous bleating, he could feel its little stomach aching. He couldn’t hand it over to any old ewe, she’d reject him and deny him milk. Léon brushes off a nervous laugh, “sheep… there’s a reason for their less than stellar reputation in the intelligence field.”
While he could’ve finished that sentence with a wink, he was growing nervous. His eyes traveled to the sole pen he had for his sheep. It wasn’t so much a pen as it was a three walled box with a thatched roof. The entranced was faced to the forest, a technical error on his part. He’d gotten visits from creatures other than sheep before, and naturally his mind went to the worst of places. “Maybe we move this investigation elsewhere,” he spoke in a soft tone as he began to inch towards the pen.
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“Of course I’m talking about the lamb,” Léon scoffed as he quietly placed an unsubtle insult under his breath. He was about to say something more, but Arno started to tug. The horse had more sense than him, he should seriously stop running his mouth.
The way she winced and wiggled was laughable to the shepherd, the sensitivities of court-folk never seemed to change. She was a curious breed of woman, he could see her eyes similar to that of a cobra’s, ready to strike without much a warning. So it should be, he supposed. He was a stranger, and she was a lady. It brought him quiet joy the way she acted as if he’d hit her when he took his lamb from her. It wasn’t that he disliked her, but she had accused him of lamb swindling and potential murder with a thank you still in order.
He became stuck on the idea of riding quickly off without her when suddenly she and Altair sprung to life. He didn’t just eat his words, he choked on them. Feeling rather silly for his question, he watched in horror as Evie glide with divine grace away from him. It was surreal to see a beast like Altair guided so carefully, with such precision that it had to have been conducted by the gods. Squirming gently under the weight of his lamb, Léon followed. It was an understatement to say his riding paled in comparison. It was embarrassing,following her on his own land. But, it was a punishment he had to bear, lest he offend Lady Evangelina again. Heat flushed across his face. Arno was moving slowly on purpose, wasn’t he?
As a noble woman, she must have a lot of time to waste learning how to become one with her horse, that or he had upset a god in disguise.
“Let’s see this sheep of yours, Master Leonide.” Léonide bit his tongue, nodded curtly and begged Arno move a bit faster forward, just enough so he could get ahead of her. It was a dream never to come true- Arno never needed to go fast, the sheep were rarely spooked and when they were they never went farther than the tall grass by the forest’s edge. Today was no exception to Arno’s sloth. Because of this, the bay gave a rather annoyed huff before picking the pace up enough to pass Evangelina. It didn’t take long, gods be thanked for that. His house came into view in minute’s time.
She must’ve been laughing to herself when she saw it. It was no bigger than the stables he had back in the north, only a three room house with an open air “courtyard” (if one could call it that) that seemed critical in every Greek home. Its walls were made of stone and clay, though most of the sidings had been chipped and were left unpainted. The roof was so shallow it covered most of the narrow windows placed high up on the walls, in some places it was broken to allow ventilation for the fires inside. There was also a campfire on the outside nearest to them, beside it an older woman was disturbing the coals while a few sheep followed her about. She turned as she heard their hoofbeats approaching, and pulsed a bit in surprise upon seeing more than one person.
He nearly greeted her, but he caught himself. Evie must’ve already thought he was insane, it wouldn’t do him any good to start speaking to his mother in the only language she knew. So, he spared her a wave, which she returned, and he passed the house towards the bulk of the flock. The sheep dotted the grass like clouds in the sky. They saw Arno and him and began gathering like goose to grain, he couldn’t help but smile. “This is my family,” he chirped to Evie as he swung himself off of Arno. The lamb on his back tried to jump off and join the rest of the sheep, but he caught it. “We have to find you mother first.”
He turned Arno loose by sliding off his reins, and looked at Evangelina. The lamb’s mother should come running, where was she? Any minute now. Any minute now.
Several moments passed, and nothing. The lamb had started up a horrendous bleating, he could feel its little stomach aching. He couldn’t hand it over to any old ewe, she’d reject him and deny him milk. Léon brushes off a nervous laugh, “sheep… there’s a reason for their less than stellar reputation in the intelligence field.”
While he could’ve finished that sentence with a wink, he was growing nervous. His eyes traveled to the sole pen he had for his sheep. It wasn’t so much a pen as it was a three walled box with a thatched roof. The entranced was faced to the forest, a technical error on his part. He’d gotten visits from creatures other than sheep before, and naturally his mind went to the worst of places. “Maybe we move this investigation elsewhere,” he spoke in a soft tone as he began to inch towards the pen.
“Of course I’m talking about the lamb,” Léon scoffed as he quietly placed an unsubtle insult under his breath. He was about to say something more, but Arno started to tug. The horse had more sense than him, he should seriously stop running his mouth.
The way she winced and wiggled was laughable to the shepherd, the sensitivities of court-folk never seemed to change. She was a curious breed of woman, he could see her eyes similar to that of a cobra’s, ready to strike without much a warning. So it should be, he supposed. He was a stranger, and she was a lady. It brought him quiet joy the way she acted as if he’d hit her when he took his lamb from her. It wasn’t that he disliked her, but she had accused him of lamb swindling and potential murder with a thank you still in order.
He became stuck on the idea of riding quickly off without her when suddenly she and Altair sprung to life. He didn’t just eat his words, he choked on them. Feeling rather silly for his question, he watched in horror as Evie glide with divine grace away from him. It was surreal to see a beast like Altair guided so carefully, with such precision that it had to have been conducted by the gods. Squirming gently under the weight of his lamb, Léon followed. It was an understatement to say his riding paled in comparison. It was embarrassing,following her on his own land. But, it was a punishment he had to bear, lest he offend Lady Evangelina again. Heat flushed across his face. Arno was moving slowly on purpose, wasn’t he?
As a noble woman, she must have a lot of time to waste learning how to become one with her horse, that or he had upset a god in disguise.
“Let’s see this sheep of yours, Master Leonide.” Léonide bit his tongue, nodded curtly and begged Arno move a bit faster forward, just enough so he could get ahead of her. It was a dream never to come true- Arno never needed to go fast, the sheep were rarely spooked and when they were they never went farther than the tall grass by the forest’s edge. Today was no exception to Arno’s sloth. Because of this, the bay gave a rather annoyed huff before picking the pace up enough to pass Evangelina. It didn’t take long, gods be thanked for that. His house came into view in minute’s time.
She must’ve been laughing to herself when she saw it. It was no bigger than the stables he had back in the north, only a three room house with an open air “courtyard” (if one could call it that) that seemed critical in every Greek home. Its walls were made of stone and clay, though most of the sidings had been chipped and were left unpainted. The roof was so shallow it covered most of the narrow windows placed high up on the walls, in some places it was broken to allow ventilation for the fires inside. There was also a campfire on the outside nearest to them, beside it an older woman was disturbing the coals while a few sheep followed her about. She turned as she heard their hoofbeats approaching, and pulsed a bit in surprise upon seeing more than one person.
He nearly greeted her, but he caught himself. Evie must’ve already thought he was insane, it wouldn’t do him any good to start speaking to his mother in the only language she knew. So, he spared her a wave, which she returned, and he passed the house towards the bulk of the flock. The sheep dotted the grass like clouds in the sky. They saw Arno and him and began gathering like goose to grain, he couldn’t help but smile. “This is my family,” he chirped to Evie as he swung himself off of Arno. The lamb on his back tried to jump off and join the rest of the sheep, but he caught it. “We have to find you mother first.”
He turned Arno loose by sliding off his reins, and looked at Evangelina. The lamb’s mother should come running, where was she? Any minute now. Any minute now.
Several moments passed, and nothing. The lamb had started up a horrendous bleating, he could feel its little stomach aching. He couldn’t hand it over to any old ewe, she’d reject him and deny him milk. Léon brushes off a nervous laugh, “sheep… there’s a reason for their less than stellar reputation in the intelligence field.”
While he could’ve finished that sentence with a wink, he was growing nervous. His eyes traveled to the sole pen he had for his sheep. It wasn’t so much a pen as it was a three walled box with a thatched roof. The entranced was faced to the forest, a technical error on his part. He’d gotten visits from creatures other than sheep before, and naturally his mind went to the worst of places. “Maybe we move this investigation elsewhere,” he spoke in a soft tone as he began to inch towards the pen.
Evangelina’s cheeks pinkened at his rebuttal. Her thick lashes swept downward as she hid her eyes and the way her thoughts seemed to flow out of them so readily. Of the Leventi girls, it might be said that Evangelina was the country mouse of the girls. As she swung up onto the grand gray stallion, the feelings of settling into the saddle silenced her troubled mind. Sitting on a horse had a way of calming her, it snuck up enveloping her in that same feeling as settling into your own bed once more after being gone from your home for far too long. Being on a horse was like coming home to Evangelina.
Being on the horse was the only thing that gave her the confidence to glide away from this shepherd who’d had managed to wound her delicate pride.
She asked for a couple of half-halts from Altair, using her legs to push him forward but getting him to slow and check his gait to allow for her companion to pass her just enough to make sure they were headed in the right direction. One major embarrassment a day was her rule of thumb. The petite, chestnut-haired girl didn’t offer up conversation… not out of rudeness but rather, it was easier to just be quiet than to open her mouth and insert her foot in it.
The house came into view and her train of thought paused. What would it be like to have been born into simplicity? It looked from the outside like a happy life he had. How could she have so much and he have so little, and yet… he had so much more then she had? Sweeping her eyes over the scene, a bit of sadness filled her. The way the older woman looked at the shepherd tore at Evangelina. Who was waiting for her when she would ride back to her uncle’s massive estate?
Her body shifted. Her eyes dropped and she felt herself shift a little deeper into her saddle. Perhaps a bit of shame was filling her from the way she’d treated him. In her defense, she’d been honestly worried about Altair, and panic never set well with anyone. Evangelina’s apology rested in her throat, it seemed caught there unable to come out of her lips.
Master Leonide spared a wave to the woman, that Evangelina reasoned was his mother, as she was too old to be a sister or wife. Raising an eyebrow to her companion but didn’t say anything. Glancing back to the woman, she offered a softer smile than anything she’d offered her son and a small, shy wave before continuing along towards the flock of sheep as they gathered closer.
‘This is my family.’
He swung off the horse and continued, directing his next words to the lamb rather than her.
Sweeping another long gaze over the herd, she didn’t immediately swing down but rather used the additional height to scan the herd looking for someone who looked like they might have lost their lamb.
Her gaze followed him to the pen, the one she presumed was the one where he’d left the young lamb’s dam. Did he realize that when a person was worried they changed the way they stood, the lines on their face drew together? A worried person was someone even a less then perceptive person could pick out of a crowd. Silently, she slid off her own horse, and draped a rein loosely over a nearby wood rail and followed him.
“What is it? What is wrong?” Her heart had risen to her throat and a feeling of unease was settling over her. One of her gloved hands was grasping her alternate wrist, squeezing it.
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Evangelina’s cheeks pinkened at his rebuttal. Her thick lashes swept downward as she hid her eyes and the way her thoughts seemed to flow out of them so readily. Of the Leventi girls, it might be said that Evangelina was the country mouse of the girls. As she swung up onto the grand gray stallion, the feelings of settling into the saddle silenced her troubled mind. Sitting on a horse had a way of calming her, it snuck up enveloping her in that same feeling as settling into your own bed once more after being gone from your home for far too long. Being on a horse was like coming home to Evangelina.
Being on the horse was the only thing that gave her the confidence to glide away from this shepherd who’d had managed to wound her delicate pride.
She asked for a couple of half-halts from Altair, using her legs to push him forward but getting him to slow and check his gait to allow for her companion to pass her just enough to make sure they were headed in the right direction. One major embarrassment a day was her rule of thumb. The petite, chestnut-haired girl didn’t offer up conversation… not out of rudeness but rather, it was easier to just be quiet than to open her mouth and insert her foot in it.
The house came into view and her train of thought paused. What would it be like to have been born into simplicity? It looked from the outside like a happy life he had. How could she have so much and he have so little, and yet… he had so much more then she had? Sweeping her eyes over the scene, a bit of sadness filled her. The way the older woman looked at the shepherd tore at Evangelina. Who was waiting for her when she would ride back to her uncle’s massive estate?
Her body shifted. Her eyes dropped and she felt herself shift a little deeper into her saddle. Perhaps a bit of shame was filling her from the way she’d treated him. In her defense, she’d been honestly worried about Altair, and panic never set well with anyone. Evangelina’s apology rested in her throat, it seemed caught there unable to come out of her lips.
Master Leonide spared a wave to the woman, that Evangelina reasoned was his mother, as she was too old to be a sister or wife. Raising an eyebrow to her companion but didn’t say anything. Glancing back to the woman, she offered a softer smile than anything she’d offered her son and a small, shy wave before continuing along towards the flock of sheep as they gathered closer.
‘This is my family.’
He swung off the horse and continued, directing his next words to the lamb rather than her.
Sweeping another long gaze over the herd, she didn’t immediately swing down but rather used the additional height to scan the herd looking for someone who looked like they might have lost their lamb.
Her gaze followed him to the pen, the one she presumed was the one where he’d left the young lamb’s dam. Did he realize that when a person was worried they changed the way they stood, the lines on their face drew together? A worried person was someone even a less then perceptive person could pick out of a crowd. Silently, she slid off her own horse, and draped a rein loosely over a nearby wood rail and followed him.
“What is it? What is wrong?” Her heart had risen to her throat and a feeling of unease was settling over her. One of her gloved hands was grasping her alternate wrist, squeezing it.
Evangelina’s cheeks pinkened at his rebuttal. Her thick lashes swept downward as she hid her eyes and the way her thoughts seemed to flow out of them so readily. Of the Leventi girls, it might be said that Evangelina was the country mouse of the girls. As she swung up onto the grand gray stallion, the feelings of settling into the saddle silenced her troubled mind. Sitting on a horse had a way of calming her, it snuck up enveloping her in that same feeling as settling into your own bed once more after being gone from your home for far too long. Being on a horse was like coming home to Evangelina.
Being on the horse was the only thing that gave her the confidence to glide away from this shepherd who’d had managed to wound her delicate pride.
She asked for a couple of half-halts from Altair, using her legs to push him forward but getting him to slow and check his gait to allow for her companion to pass her just enough to make sure they were headed in the right direction. One major embarrassment a day was her rule of thumb. The petite, chestnut-haired girl didn’t offer up conversation… not out of rudeness but rather, it was easier to just be quiet than to open her mouth and insert her foot in it.
The house came into view and her train of thought paused. What would it be like to have been born into simplicity? It looked from the outside like a happy life he had. How could she have so much and he have so little, and yet… he had so much more then she had? Sweeping her eyes over the scene, a bit of sadness filled her. The way the older woman looked at the shepherd tore at Evangelina. Who was waiting for her when she would ride back to her uncle’s massive estate?
Her body shifted. Her eyes dropped and she felt herself shift a little deeper into her saddle. Perhaps a bit of shame was filling her from the way she’d treated him. In her defense, she’d been honestly worried about Altair, and panic never set well with anyone. Evangelina’s apology rested in her throat, it seemed caught there unable to come out of her lips.
Master Leonide spared a wave to the woman, that Evangelina reasoned was his mother, as she was too old to be a sister or wife. Raising an eyebrow to her companion but didn’t say anything. Glancing back to the woman, she offered a softer smile than anything she’d offered her son and a small, shy wave before continuing along towards the flock of sheep as they gathered closer.
‘This is my family.’
He swung off the horse and continued, directing his next words to the lamb rather than her.
Sweeping another long gaze over the herd, she didn’t immediately swing down but rather used the additional height to scan the herd looking for someone who looked like they might have lost their lamb.
Her gaze followed him to the pen, the one she presumed was the one where he’d left the young lamb’s dam. Did he realize that when a person was worried they changed the way they stood, the lines on their face drew together? A worried person was someone even a less then perceptive person could pick out of a crowd. Silently, she slid off her own horse, and draped a rein loosely over a nearby wood rail and followed him.
“What is it? What is wrong?” Her heart had risen to her throat and a feeling of unease was settling over her. One of her gloved hands was grasping her alternate wrist, squeezing it.
Her voiced concern fell upon deaf ears. The air was potent with a nervous illness that twisted at Léon’s insides. There hung the unmistakable scent of blood. Léon’s grip tightened on the lamb, muttering something distinctly not Greek. Another inch, and another score of dread dug deep into his stomach. The pen was almost never occupied, except by the more immobile of his sheep. Any ewe who had recently lambed would fit such a description, especially the rowdy lamb’s mother. A rest in the pen wasn’t concerning insofar as she was alone. A rustle from the pen, too quick to be that of a sheep, answered Léon’s suspicions. “Evangelina right? You happen to have the device to beat the everloving daylights out of whatever might be in that pen?” a nervous smile prodded his lips. Without letting her answer, he bent down to see inside the shoulder-height pen.
Deep shadows obscured the corners of the building, but he could still make out coupled silhouettes. One moved vigorously, like a snake had it legs. The other was a defeated pile, so still it was only brought to Léon’s attention by a trail of what he could only assume was blood. He grabbed for his breath to return in him. Losing one more lambing ewe could cost him half his herd in the long shot. They already rode the line of subsistence. More infuriating was how preventable it all was. It was a selfish concern, at least from the sheeps’ point of view. Léon lifted the lamb off his shoulders and ushered it away from the scene.
Getting back up he made eye contact with Evangelina. It was unfair for him to expect her to get as emotional as he was about his ewe. She seemed kind enough, at least in the proper lady way that was expected. Clearly, their two paths were never meant to meet. He did not have time to reflect on this odd collage of a pairing. “I think my proof’s in there. Sorry in advance, just be ready.” Léonide gathered what shy amount of wits he had and entered into the pen.
Almost instantly, he heard cat like hissing and yelping. The limp figure was abandoned by the active one, as it turned its attention to Léon. Léon’s proximity revealed the creature to be brownish, almost orange, and rather panicked. A fox, gods above did he hate foxes. He had had a few close calls with foxes in the past. A faint memory of a fox encounter with his brother passed by as Léon fought to form a plan. His brother would trap it. Lucky for Léon, the creature was already cornered. What next? The shepard’s eyes shifted to the lump still in the corner. The ewe had lost its breath, and with it his chance to quickly rebuild his herd. He made a move for his sword. It was a proper payment for having killed his sheep, was it not? The fox could have single handedly condemned his mother and him to starvation. After all, if Léon didn’t kill it, it would go on to harm some other helpless shepard. Yet, there was a reluctance to unsheath. Sympathy had a parasitic tendency to escape the bounds of ones species. Sympathy, or cowardice.
By the slightest glint of bronze from Léon’s sword, the fox made a dash for the entrance. Known for their trickery, he shouldn’t have been surprised by it. Still, he cussed madly under his breath as revenge eluded him.
“Quick! Chase him back in!” he called to the lady. How horribly out of form it was for him to do so, and yet how horribly necessary. He’d dish out his apologizes after the fox had been dealt with. That is, if he could bring himself to do it. Léon prayed his second estimate of her was accurate.
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
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Her voiced concern fell upon deaf ears. The air was potent with a nervous illness that twisted at Léon’s insides. There hung the unmistakable scent of blood. Léon’s grip tightened on the lamb, muttering something distinctly not Greek. Another inch, and another score of dread dug deep into his stomach. The pen was almost never occupied, except by the more immobile of his sheep. Any ewe who had recently lambed would fit such a description, especially the rowdy lamb’s mother. A rest in the pen wasn’t concerning insofar as she was alone. A rustle from the pen, too quick to be that of a sheep, answered Léon’s suspicions. “Evangelina right? You happen to have the device to beat the everloving daylights out of whatever might be in that pen?” a nervous smile prodded his lips. Without letting her answer, he bent down to see inside the shoulder-height pen.
Deep shadows obscured the corners of the building, but he could still make out coupled silhouettes. One moved vigorously, like a snake had it legs. The other was a defeated pile, so still it was only brought to Léon’s attention by a trail of what he could only assume was blood. He grabbed for his breath to return in him. Losing one more lambing ewe could cost him half his herd in the long shot. They already rode the line of subsistence. More infuriating was how preventable it all was. It was a selfish concern, at least from the sheeps’ point of view. Léon lifted the lamb off his shoulders and ushered it away from the scene.
Getting back up he made eye contact with Evangelina. It was unfair for him to expect her to get as emotional as he was about his ewe. She seemed kind enough, at least in the proper lady way that was expected. Clearly, their two paths were never meant to meet. He did not have time to reflect on this odd collage of a pairing. “I think my proof’s in there. Sorry in advance, just be ready.” Léonide gathered what shy amount of wits he had and entered into the pen.
Almost instantly, he heard cat like hissing and yelping. The limp figure was abandoned by the active one, as it turned its attention to Léon. Léon’s proximity revealed the creature to be brownish, almost orange, and rather panicked. A fox, gods above did he hate foxes. He had had a few close calls with foxes in the past. A faint memory of a fox encounter with his brother passed by as Léon fought to form a plan. His brother would trap it. Lucky for Léon, the creature was already cornered. What next? The shepard’s eyes shifted to the lump still in the corner. The ewe had lost its breath, and with it his chance to quickly rebuild his herd. He made a move for his sword. It was a proper payment for having killed his sheep, was it not? The fox could have single handedly condemned his mother and him to starvation. After all, if Léon didn’t kill it, it would go on to harm some other helpless shepard. Yet, there was a reluctance to unsheath. Sympathy had a parasitic tendency to escape the bounds of ones species. Sympathy, or cowardice.
By the slightest glint of bronze from Léon’s sword, the fox made a dash for the entrance. Known for their trickery, he shouldn’t have been surprised by it. Still, he cussed madly under his breath as revenge eluded him.
“Quick! Chase him back in!” he called to the lady. How horribly out of form it was for him to do so, and yet how horribly necessary. He’d dish out his apologizes after the fox had been dealt with. That is, if he could bring himself to do it. Léon prayed his second estimate of her was accurate.
Her voiced concern fell upon deaf ears. The air was potent with a nervous illness that twisted at Léon’s insides. There hung the unmistakable scent of blood. Léon’s grip tightened on the lamb, muttering something distinctly not Greek. Another inch, and another score of dread dug deep into his stomach. The pen was almost never occupied, except by the more immobile of his sheep. Any ewe who had recently lambed would fit such a description, especially the rowdy lamb’s mother. A rest in the pen wasn’t concerning insofar as she was alone. A rustle from the pen, too quick to be that of a sheep, answered Léon’s suspicions. “Evangelina right? You happen to have the device to beat the everloving daylights out of whatever might be in that pen?” a nervous smile prodded his lips. Without letting her answer, he bent down to see inside the shoulder-height pen.
Deep shadows obscured the corners of the building, but he could still make out coupled silhouettes. One moved vigorously, like a snake had it legs. The other was a defeated pile, so still it was only brought to Léon’s attention by a trail of what he could only assume was blood. He grabbed for his breath to return in him. Losing one more lambing ewe could cost him half his herd in the long shot. They already rode the line of subsistence. More infuriating was how preventable it all was. It was a selfish concern, at least from the sheeps’ point of view. Léon lifted the lamb off his shoulders and ushered it away from the scene.
Getting back up he made eye contact with Evangelina. It was unfair for him to expect her to get as emotional as he was about his ewe. She seemed kind enough, at least in the proper lady way that was expected. Clearly, their two paths were never meant to meet. He did not have time to reflect on this odd collage of a pairing. “I think my proof’s in there. Sorry in advance, just be ready.” Léonide gathered what shy amount of wits he had and entered into the pen.
Almost instantly, he heard cat like hissing and yelping. The limp figure was abandoned by the active one, as it turned its attention to Léon. Léon’s proximity revealed the creature to be brownish, almost orange, and rather panicked. A fox, gods above did he hate foxes. He had had a few close calls with foxes in the past. A faint memory of a fox encounter with his brother passed by as Léon fought to form a plan. His brother would trap it. Lucky for Léon, the creature was already cornered. What next? The shepard’s eyes shifted to the lump still in the corner. The ewe had lost its breath, and with it his chance to quickly rebuild his herd. He made a move for his sword. It was a proper payment for having killed his sheep, was it not? The fox could have single handedly condemned his mother and him to starvation. After all, if Léon didn’t kill it, it would go on to harm some other helpless shepard. Yet, there was a reluctance to unsheath. Sympathy had a parasitic tendency to escape the bounds of ones species. Sympathy, or cowardice.
By the slightest glint of bronze from Léon’s sword, the fox made a dash for the entrance. Known for their trickery, he shouldn’t have been surprised by it. Still, he cussed madly under his breath as revenge eluded him.
“Quick! Chase him back in!” he called to the lady. How horribly out of form it was for him to do so, and yet how horribly necessary. He’d dish out his apologizes after the fox had been dealt with. That is, if he could bring himself to do it. Léon prayed his second estimate of her was accurate.
