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Léofric came by and greeted them. Rowenna returned his greeting, using his full name as she always did with everyone. Javan was an excitable boy, to be sure. Rowenna wondered if Léofric was quite as eager to have Javan as Javan was to be Léofric's helper.
“That’s what I like to do. I’ve always liked horses a great deal, and I can ride ‘em, too. You like horses, don’t you? Can you ride?”
Rowenna smiled. "Yes. I had my own filly before -" she furrowed her brow "-before I was taken by the outlaws." She had been about to say 'before ... you know'; she had promised herself that she would never shy away from the memory of the horrors of her captivity, but she had almost done so, so soon. She realized with a little anger that she would have to force herself to think the hard thoughts and speak the hard words. The warm memories from earlier times must not be allowed to buffer her from the memory of rough hands using her roughly, evil words spoken to her. And the warm memories must not be allowed to soften her into easy chatter. She felt her face compose. To Javan it looked like she had been about to really be happy, only to shy away from it and become cold and stoney again.
"I did choose this work, believe it or not. I do this to remind me that I am an escaped slave and an orphan."
She held his eyes to see that her words sunk in, then gripped the brush, watered it in the bucket, and began scrubbing again.
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