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Eodwine's thought was only for Flíthaf, and he ran headlong toward the entrance to the stables closest to his stallion's stall. The moment he entered, he encountered billowing smoke and a cacophony of horses and humans screaming, and hooves striking wood. He could see flames dancing along the stalls and reaching quick hungry hands up to the roof. He pulled his shirt up to his nose and plunged in.
He came to Flíthaf's stall, which was thankfully closest to the opposite end of the stables from where the fire had apparently started, which was Léof's little room. How odd, his thought skittered a moment, then he was at Flíthaf's stall. Hooves came flying out at head height. Eodwine dodged just in time. The stallion was bucking his way right out of his stall, into the aisle. Soon the horse's head was out. The reins dangled then flew out of reach, then whipped back again.
"Flíthaf!"
The horse ignored him. How was he going to get at all near the horse? Once he did, should he grab the reins, or try to ride? That would be foolery, he decided. He began to step closer to his bucking stallion, to try and grab the reins. Suddenly the horse became aware of the relative light beyond the entrance, and bolted. Eodwine leaped out of the way just in time. He was happy his horse had escaped, but did not look forward to searching far and wide.
Eodwine rose and looked around him. There was Léof leading a horse in his direction.
"What happened? How did this start!" Eodwine demanded.
"I don't know! I was in the hall!" Léof hustled by. Eodwine followed his ostler's example and looked for another horse to lead to safety.
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