“Daerohil. ... you ... hear? Do ... where ... herbs?” Aislan asked the stable lad, and wondered how much he had understood.
* Daerohil bowed, and wanting to please his honored guests, blinked a small blank smile at the words of Aislan. But Calimiel was the one who'd known herb lore, and Calimiel had gone, hidden before his eyes. At Andreth's arms reaching achingly out to him after pointing to the downed pony, Daerohil cocked his head into a concerned frown. *
* Too late to save Whinney. But Daerohil would help. Taking up a pitch fork, the stable lad removed straw from his very own hiding place. With slow reverence, he tossed the gentle yellow covering from his own secure haunt onto the pony. As Whinney's burial haystack grew, Daerohil's dwindled so that the skeleton beneath grew more and more evident. *
[ April 06, 2003: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]
|