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Will pushed open the outside door to the kitchen just as Prim fell to the floor. He pushed back his cap and scratched his head as he took in the scene. His early morning chores were just done; the stalls had all been mucked out, the horses fed and watered and new straw forked in on their stall floors. There were two of them he’d brushed and combed in anticipation of their owners leaving early. And as a last task, he’d turned all of them out to the great corral near the stable.
‘What’s this about “kidnapped”?’ he asked, fetching a glass of cold water to bring over to the prostrate lass. It was one of his mother’s cure-alls for a faint. And the one who’d gone limp could either sit up and sip at it as they came round, or, more drastically, they were drenched with it so that the chill of the water might shock them back to their surroundings.
Prim lay limp as an old bunch of lettuce as Will knelt down beside her. No amount of patting her hand or calling her name seemed to be bringing her round. Will looked from her to Rowan and shrugged his shoulders as if to apologize in advance. With a quick flick of his wrist, he splashed the glass of water full in her face.
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