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Dick stood in the shadow of the stable door and looked out at the elf. What it just his fancy, or did the elf seem to glimmer in the falling shadows? It was a trick of the light, surely. All the same, he looked frightening, fierce, but strangely beautiful and certainly mysterious, standing there in the courtyard of the beloved Perch, with his long, bright sword. Songo and Jims pushed past the landlord, each having found some sort of weapon, and went to join the elf.
“I...I’ve got to find Will,” Dick called after them. “Good - good luck!”
He retreated into the relative safety of the stable. He suddenly felt small and cowardly. “Good luck?” he questioned himself. “You wish them good luck and then run back into safety yourself?”
“The wolves aren’t my concern,” he said. “I wasn’t made for fighting or adventures. Besides, Will is missing. I have to find Will. Will!” he raised his voice to call for the ostler. He stood and listened for a moment. No reply. Not even an answering movement.
Dick began to search in earnest. He looked in every stall, opening the doors and peering into the gloom. The horse inhabitants turned their great, bright eyes on him. Some knickered, expecting dinner. No Will in any of the stalls.
He searched in the grain room, the tack room, the hay loft, the storage room, everywhere, and Will was nowhere to be found.
“He’s probably gone off to find Jims’ lost horse. I hope. But he should have told me if he were going off to do that.”
“Dick, you fool,” he answered himself. “Will would have told you if he were leaving.”
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