[Fairleaf]

Lovely horse . . . one of the old ones. Aldaron’s creatures . . .

And here he was, looking at her, nodding his head, long black mane flying back and forth. Fairleaf looked toward the small cart that had just turned onto the path leading up to the Inn door. The sturdy brown pony pulled steadily against the traces bearing the rider in the cart safely to his destination. Big and little . . . little and big . . . each bearing their burdens with the dignity of their kind.

Now this was interesting. The great horse’s rider had come over to the edge of the undergrowth and seemed to have her eyes fixed on something. And she was speaking . . . requesting, really, in a soft and unflinchingly stern voice that the object of her attention come forth.

By the mossy twigged hair of old Finglas! The woman was talking to her!

Fairleaf was sure of it, though why the woman was speaking into the leafy bushes about her knees, the Entmaiden could not fathom. With a quick nudge of one of her rooty toes she’d dug deep into the rich loam, Fairleaf nudged a fat and reluctant rabbit from its snug little burrow. With a scrabbling of nails against the leaf lined floor of its tunnel, the rabbit came bounding out of the entrance, heading straight between the firmly planted feet of the rider. The woman startled a bit, stepping back as the rabbit raced on.

Fairleaf closed her eyes and stretched her twiggy limbs out slowly, as if the wind were rustling among her leaves. She stood there, treeish as she might, waiting for the woman to move on.