Re: For Want Of A Horse Attn Tolfast


 

Tilly may have been a young green wher prone to playfulness and inattention, but she took her "job" as nightwatch very seriously. On a long tether that let her sit near the entrance to the stables without Tolfast at her side, her view of the surrounding beast pens was remarkably clear. Had the runner not screamed in alarm, it's likely she would have eventually detected the intruder's presence, but that shrill whinny alerted her immediately. 

{{Bad two-legs! Tilly see!}} She strained against her line, pointing like an arrow toward the field. {{Tilly catch!}}

Tolfast happened to be awake when he received the wher's message and abandoned the scrolls he had been reading before bed. Sleep rarely came easily to him. Leaping out of his armchair in response to this emergency, he wasted no time stuffing feet into his boots and racing out the door, everything else abandoned in the moment. Shep snored peacefully at the foot of his bed, undisturbed. 

Swiping a basket of glows from the wall, he made his way out across the stable yard casting long shadows as he went. Tilly was bouncing at the end of her tether when he approached, and he freed her to join him. One could never be sure what or who they would find. She raced ahead down the path that circled the pens, and Tolfast jogged to keep up. 

"Ho, who goes there?" He called, announcing himself as they neared the scattered runners. Tilly darted through the fencing, her keen eyes on the boy.

{{No take!}} She commanded, though her tiny stature was less intimidating than she would have liked. 


On Thu, Sep 17, 2020, 3:36 PM Laura Walker <shewhoguards@...> wrote:
"Please don't make a noise."

Garatt knew exactly what field to head for, looking for his favourite runner. If they had moved her-- The worry gnawed at his stomach as he opened the gate, habit making him close it behind him. It would be awful it he didn't catch her and she got out anyway and to the dragons.

"Come on then, come on, girl, please."

It was dark and the runner, friendly enough by day, was not particularly keen on being approached by strange boys at night. She shied away as he approached.

Usually an orangeroot helped. But he hadn't brought an orangeroot.

"Please, girl. Please."

Garatt was moving slowly and stiffly. The runner was not. She let him get almost within grasping distance and then whinnied, a high alarm sound, and bolted past him to the other end of the field. Garatt followed, and tried not to cry. It was clear this plan had its faults.



--

Blackadder: I mean, what about the people that do all the work?
Baldrick: The servants.
Blackadder: No, me; *I'm* the people who do all the work.

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