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Degas, not wishing to alarm the child, called out, "Hello?" rather than simply entering.
He heard what sounded like a dropped brush, or something about that size and weight.
"Is there somebody in here?" He knew there was, but from what he'd heard, the cooing voice of a girl, he was beginning to suspect that it might be Athanar's child, and he knew little of her. As a consequence, he dealt with her like he would a scared dog: he gave her plenty of warning of his advance, speaking gently and calmly as he moved forward so that she wouldn't panic and snap at him.
When he reached the stall, he looked into it and saw Ędre. The horse blew irritably at him, to all appearances seeming like she was chastising him for interrupting a private moment.
"I am Degas," he said. "You are Ędre?"
She nodded, looking quickly at the door, and he wondered if she was supposed to be here.
"She's very beautiful," he said, reaching into his belt purse. He held out his hand, in which sat a few small wafers consisting of baked grains and apple. "Does she like treats?"
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