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The dried dirt on the horse’s shoulder fell away from under Javan’s brush. It sprinkled down onto the floor in great sheets of brown dust. As he continued to brush, the coat shone back at him with a black, healthy sheen. He pushed the long, thick mane over the neck so he could brush beneath it.
“Who was it, Javan?” Lys asked at his side.
“Lord Eodwine, that’s who it was,” Javan said. “And also Falco and, oh, what’re their names? Lefun and Ritun, too! D’you want a brush to help groom him? Here, you can use this, I’ll get another.” He handed Lys his brush and moved back, allowing Lys to take his place. As he turned towards the bucket of brushes, he saw Lčof taking out the hoof pick.
“May I clean his feet?” Javan asked, his eyes lighting up. “Please, Lčof!”
Lčof shrugged and handed the pick to him. Javan took it with excitement. He had cleaned out a horse’s hooves once before, under the strict supervision of one of his older sisters. That had been some time ago, and though he remembered how to pick up the hoof, how to hold the pick, and which way to clean it out, he did not remember how important it was to approach a new horse carefully.
Lys stood at the animals shoulder, blocking his front hoof. Javan, not wanting to disturb Lys and ask him to move, went at once to the hind foot. His arm reaching out, twined about the leg, and without giving the horse a moment of warning, jerked his foot up.
The black horse snorted with disdain at such treatment. He hopped awkwardly on his second hind foot, and with practiced skill, he jerked up the hoof that Javan held, and then shot it out towards the boy. The horse’s leg shoved Javan away from him, harmlessly, and sent him tumbling down onto the dirt of the floor six feet away.
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