[shaggydog]

After further desultory conversation with Haves, Jims attention was caught by the exit of several of the taproom’s patrons, including the dwarf who had been involved in some minor dispute with the elf at the far end of the bar. Listening more closely, he realized the rain had subsided, or perhaps stopped altogether. At least, the storm had abated to the point where travelers felt they could resume their journeys, or locals could make their way home for the afternoon tasks. Jims thought again of his horse, and hailed Dick, who opined that any of the empty stalls would do as well as another, but that Jims might want to make whatever instructions he had for the beast’s care known to Will, the stable boy.

To that end, Jims hoisted his long frame from the comfortable seat at the bar and, foregoing his cape, ambled out the small circle of door into the inn yard. The sun was now shining, albeit fitfully, from behind clouds which still scudded quickly across a pale blue sky. Jims crossed the yard to the stable and stepped inside.

At the third stall, the one into which Jims had somewhat hurriedly shoved the animal earlier, he stopped, perplexed. The half door to the stall stood open, no horse within. Thinking perhaps he had used the one beyond and mistaken himself, Jims pushed the open half door to, and peered into the stall beyond. This one held a small grey donkey though. Now totally flummoxed, Jims quickly made a search of all the stalls in the small stable. But his mount was nowhere to be seen. Could it be that the stable lad had found the beast during the storm and, having some reason to do so, removed it and stabled it elsewhere? This seemed entirely unlikely, however, the alternative was not one he liked to contemplate. As worthless a beast as the old screw was, if Jims, through his own negligence had failed to secure the stall door, and the horse was now off wandering the roads, it might mean hours spent searching for the wretched thing.

With a groan, Jims turned to go back in the inn to at least inquire where he could find Will, having seen no sight of him in the yard or stable. A flutter of something caught his eye though, and Jims stooped lower, crouching down beside the stall door to see what it was.

The grizzled grey tuft had caught in a splinter of wood. It moved lightly with the breeze which puffed through the stable door, and as Jims reached to pluck it, he overbalanced and struck out a hand to keep from falling. Pulling his hand back from the spot in which he had thrust it, Jims looked with curiosity at the muddy print which lay beneath. It was the size of his own hand, even a bit bigger perhaps. With a growing realization, Jims inspected the strands of hair he now held more closely. He hoped he was wrong, dead wrong, and that someone, even the inn keeper perhaps, kept a huge dog, for protection and giving alarm when needed most likely. Clutching this hope as tightly to his heart as he clutched the hair to his chest, Jims hurried back to the common room.

Approaching the bar, Jims said, rather breathlessly, “I say, Dick, my horse seems to have gone missing during that downpour. Do you think Will could have moved it, do you have another stable?” At the look of surprise on the barkeep’s face, Jims concluded that no such thing had happened. So he went on, trying to keep the growing dismay out of his voice. “I’ve found this stuck in the stall door.” He stretched out his hand, displaying the fur. “Do you have a dog, perhaps, a really big dog? I thought . . . well, I thought perhaps a dog might have, well, you know, been sniffing around and perhaps the horse got excited, and, well . . . ran off.” Jims’ voice trailed off, knowing that in order to get his old nag excited it would have taken something quite out of the ordinary.