Remy was brushing one of the horses down in the stables. It wasn't the biggest stables in the city, nor the richest judging by appearances, but they did get some good horses. As long as you didn't need a comprehensive history of the horses, that is. If you weren't too fussy about where your horse came from, this was a good place to find a good horse, at a reasonable price, no questions asked. He lifted his head and listened. Those voices were familiar. He groaned inwardly as he recognised them. What the hell were the Musketeers doing here? He found himself hoping that this wasn't a raid and that Donovan hadn't "acquired" one of the Musketeers horses this time.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, come this way. You have come to the right place, We have the best horses to be found in the city. All my customers say so. I have some excellent choices at the moment."

Remy shook his head. Donovan would be telling them he had the perfect horses for them any minute now. And that he'd only sell to them at this price because they were special customers.

"I have the perfect horses for you. They came in a couple of days ago. To you, as special customers, I can give you the very best price."

"I'm sure you can."

Remy chuckled at the sarcasm dripping from Athos's words, although Donovan didn't seem to notice.

"Remy! Where are you boy? Bring those horses out here for these gentlemen to see. The ones in the far stalls."

Remy groaned, but headed through the back of the stalls to the horses Donovan had mentioned. They weren't the best horses in the stables. They were the ones that had been here the longest, and Donovan wanted rid of them quickly to make room for fresh stock. He haltered the best pair and led them out into the yard, studiously avoiding the eyes of the Musketeers. Thankfully, none of them gave any outward sign of recognising him. Remy breathed a little easier and held the horses still, while Athos gave them a cursory once over.

"These are the finest horses. Been here just two days. Others have expressed an interest, but to you, I can do a good price. Just eight livres each and they're yours." Donovan was in full salesman mode.

"We need eight horses," interrupted Athos, with his usual bluntness.

"Hmm, eight, yes, you are in luck. I have eight. You can have all eight. I can do you a good price. Sixty livres for all eight."

Athos stood in front of Remy to examine the teeth of one of the horses, blocking him from Donovan's view. Remy shook his head slightly. Athos grinned.

"These are the best you have?" There was no suggestion of the grin in his voice.

"Yes, yes, absolutely. They're the best. Just two days here. See how their coats shine. Perfect condition. Come over here, you can see the others. They are just as good."

Donovan led a mildly amused Aramis and a weary looking Porthos over to the stalls to see the other horses. Athos leant closer to Remy.

"How are they this shiny?" he whispered.

"Lots of brushing, oil and leather polish," whispered Remy. "They look good until it rains or they sweat. And these horses are terrible."

Athos smiled. "I can see that. Any decent ones here?"

Remy motioned to the other side of the stables. "There are six decent ones over there. He was keeping them for the Red Guards."

Athos nodded and looked around. Donovan was still in full sales mode, telling Aramis how good the horses were. He seemed to have given up on Porthos, who was leant on the stable door, looking thoroughly bored.

"I'm not sure about these horses. Walk them forwards, boy." Athos winked at Remy and strode to the far side of the stables, supposedly to watch the horses walk. Remy grinned and walked the horses forwards, aiming them at the stalls he'd mentioned. Athos followed his lead and wandered casually towards the stalls, casting a quick eye over the occupants. He watched as Remy turned the horses and walked them away again, his face impassive. Donovan was looking a little nervous, but Remy led the horses confidently, making sure they were shown as well as possible.

Athos inclined his head and looked at Aramis. "I'm still not sure. What do you think?"

Aramis shrugged. "I think they're expensive."

Donovan spluttered. "Expensive? No, gentlemen. I'm giving them away at that price."

Athos leant nonchalantly back on the stable door behind him. "I have to agree with my colleague. The one on the left carries his back left leg strangely. The one on the right has bad teeth. They look good from a distance, but I'm not sure they're right for us. We require hard working horses. These may look pretty on parade, but I don't think they'd last long."

Donovan looked shocked. Remy had to fight to hide the smile.

"I assure you, they're the best there is. We have nothing else. Tell him, boy." Donovan looked almost pleadingly at Remy.

Remy looked at Donovan, and absentmindedly rubbed his eye. "Well, we do have those others. The six over there."

Remy looked towards Athos, who took his cue and turned to look at the horses behind him. "Hmm. These look better. More flesh on their bones. Can we see them?"

Donovan was definitely flustered. He glared at Remy, then looked over at Athos, torn between yelling at Remy and trying to keep his prospective customers happy.

"Er, of course. Put these horses back and get them out for the gentlemen."

Remy wisely hid his smirk and hurried to restable the two horses. He heard Donovan behind him and braced himself for the blow he knew was coming. Luckily, Aramis was still leaning on the stable door, and Donovan was trying to be subtle, so he merely cuffed Remy on the back of the head.

"What the hell do you think you're doing. You know I was saving those for the Red Guards." Donovan kept his voice quiet enough that Aramis couldn't hear his words, but the menace still shone through.

Remy rubbed his head with a grimace. "I know, but these guys seem to know what they want. They want good horses. The Reds will send that fat man who can't tell a horse from a donkey. Half a glass of cheap wine, and he'll buy these eight from you for the full eight livres and think he got the deal of the year."

Donovan grumbled, but rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Alright, well hurry up, go and get the other horses on show before they lose interest. If I don't make a decent sale here, it'll be your skin. You're on your last chance. Killian is still after your services, Lord only knows why, but if you mess this up, I'm done with you, and you're going to have a hard time finding work anywhere in this city. Do you hear me?"

Remy hurried out of Donovan's way and across the yard. Aramis was still leaning on the stable door, but his eyes had a hard glint in them. Donovan smiled his most ingratiating smile at him. "Boys. You just can't get good staff these days."

Aramis said nothing, turning his back on Donovan and watching Remy lead the next pair of horses across the yard. He had to admit, this pair looked a lot better than the previous pair. He walked across and whispered something to Athos, who turned and glared at Donovan. Donovan squirmed uncomfortably, unsure exactly what he'd done to incur the man's wrath, but pretty sure he needed to be extra polite in order to make his sale. He walked a little closer, but wisely, not too close.

"See, the boy is right, these are good horses as well. Almost as good as the others. I can sell them to you for seven livres, but I only have six I'm afraid."

"There are two more on the end, they came in this morning. Not had a chance to check them over yet." Remy earned himself a glare from Donovan, and mentally kicked himself. The vein in the side of Donovan's neck was beginning to pulse. Never a good sign. He was going to have to try and stay out of Donovan's reach for the rest of the day.

Athos had wandered over to look at the two new horses. One was big and obviously strong, with a white flash on its face. The other was smaller and quite skittish, with three white socks just showing through the dirt and grime. It shied away from him as he reached towards it.

"The bigger one looks sound enough. Not sure about this one though. It is a little on the small side, and a little nervous."

Donovan hurried over. "Yes, yes I was a little unsure, but a good wash and some feed and he'll be fine. The bigger one is strong. Ideal for you. You can have these for the same price."

Athos frowned at him. "So, you're saying that a large strong horse and a small skittish one are worth the same?"

"No, no, obviously not. But the pair can be yours for fourteen."

Athos raised his eyebrows. "I am not paying fourteen livres for one horse. The small one is of little use to me."

"No, of course, but you need eight horses. Seven livres per horse. I paid six livres for them. I'm almost giving them away." He smiled and rubbed his hands together.

Athos glanced over at Remy, and noticed the boy had three fingers splayed out on the side of the horses neck, as he stroked it. It was a brief signal, but Athos smiled to himself.

"You paid six livres for this one?" He shook his head in apparent disbelief. "Too steep for me, I'm afraid." He turned to walk away.

Donovan glowered and took a couple of steps towards Remy, raising his hand. Porthos grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back, causing Donovan to gasp in pain.

"Hey, what the hell …"

"The boy did nothing wrong." Porthos grinned a toothy grin at Remy, who didn't grin back. He was too busy wondering how slowly Donovan was going to kill him once the Musketeers left.

"Is there a problem?" asked Athos.

"Your friend … hurting my arm …" gasped Donovan.

"Porthos, let the man go. I'm sorry about that. He gets a little carried away sometimes. Doesn't know his own strength." Athos made a big show of brushing Donovan down, as he tried to massage some feeling back into his arm. He smiled gratefully at Athos, but turned pale at the expression on Athos's face. Donovan was now torn between making a sale and getting rid of these soldiers quickly.

"Look, I'm sure we can reach an agreement. What price did you have in mind?" Donovan looked at each of the Musketeers in turn.

Porthos scowled back at him, while Aramis ignored him completely. Athos seemed to think for a moment. "I was thinking more of five livres per horse."

"Five?" squeaked Donovan. "I paid more than that."

"Then you paid too much." Athos turned to leave again.

Donovan scurried to catch up to him. "Wait, no, five livres. For the eight."

Athos smiled at him, with no humor in his eyes. "No, for the seven. You can throw in the small one if you like. I'll see it finds a good home. Save you feeding it."

Donovan's mouth opened and closed noiselessly. "But … that's … thirty five livres for eight horses."

"He's good at maths," muttered Aramis, not quite fully under his breath.

"It is indeed. And that is a very good deal, which is what you promised us at the start of proceedings." He waited patiently as Donovan tried to work out whether or not it was worth it just to get rid of them quickly.

"Very well, as it for the Musketeers and I have always been a supporter of the Blues, thirty five livres."

"For all eight," clarified Athos.

"For all eight." Donovan almost choked on the words. He glared murderously at Remy.

Athos followed his gaze. "Oh, and I'd like to hire your stable boy for the rest of the day."

"What?!" Donovan was rapidly turning purple with rage and disbelief.

"I said, I'd like to hire your stable boy for the rest of the day," repeated Athos, patiently. "We'll need help to get these horses across town to our barracks, and to settle them in. I realise I'm denying you of his assistance, but you seem to have others, so I'm sure you won't miss one. Especially one that small."

Donovan spluttered and glared at Remy again. Remy wisely kept quiet and stared at the floor.

Donovan looked to Athos, whose face remained impassive as always. He sighed. "Very well. Pay me for his time and he's yours for the day. I want you back here bright and early in the morning, boy. Do you hear me?"

Remy nodded. "Yes, Sir."

Remy made himself busy, roping the horses in pairs. Donovan made a few moves in his direction, but Porthos always seemed to be in the way, so he had to satisfy himself with glaring at Remy instead. Remy avoided his gaze and concentrated on the horses. Each of the Musketeers took a pair of horses from him and mounted their own horses, with Athos taking the skittish one. Remy nimbly vaulted onto the back of one of the remaining pair, and the strange group set off for the Musketeers barracks, with Donovan muttering darkly under his breath all the things he was going to do to Remy when he returned.

Back at the barracks, Remy avoided all three men and again made himself busy with the horses, brushing them down and leading them to empty stalls. Athos frowned, but headed off to report to Treville. Aramis shrugged at Porthos and left, looking worried. Porthos stayed, hovering near to Remy without actually getting in his way. Remy had dealt with half the horses before Porthos finally spoke.

"You're quiet."

Remy ignored him and stabled the fifth horse.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine," snapped Remy, trying to control the anger that was rising in his blood.

"You don't sound fine. You sound angry."

"You think?"

Porthos scratched his head. "Why are you mad at us? Come on, it's not going to take you all day to sort these last three horses, and then you have the rest of the day free."

Remy spun round and glared at him, and Porthos actually took a step backwards.

"Great. A whole half day off. Something to enjoy, before Donovan kills me. Thanks a lot." He turned his back on Porthos and tried to calm himself. His anger was beginning to feed through to the horse he was currently trying to stable. He took a deep breath and stroked the horses neck, waiting for his anger to fade and the horse to settle.

Porthos stood in silence, watching him, with a look of realisation spreading across his face. Donovan had been mad at Remy, and by getting the boy out of there for the day, they'd just delayed his fate, and possibly made it worse. He hung his head, feeling guilt flood through his body, turned, and trudged away.

Remy heard him go. Half of him wanted to yell that it wasn't their fault, and half of him wanted to hit something. Or someone. Preferably hard. He contented himself with kicking the side of the water trough.

He stabled the sixth horse, and was left with the large horse with the white flash and the smaller, skittish horse. He fetched a bucket of water and set about washing the large horse. It was a placid animal, and stood patiently while Remy washed and brushed it, although it did try chewing his hair a couple of times. Normally, Remy would have thought it funny, but he was too busy running through all the things Donovan would be mad at him for, and just pushed the animal away.

Aramis watched him, glumly. "Did we just make life harder for him?"

Porthos shrugged and polished his sword. "Probably."

"That wasn't the intention."

"I don't think that makes much difference."

"I'll go talk to him."

"Good luck."

Aramis strode over to the stables. Remy was just settling the large horse in, and making sure it had enough feed. It nuzzled him, but he shrugged it off. The horse whinnied gently.

Remy sighed and stroked it's neck. "Sorry, fella. Not your fault. Just not having a good day."

"Well, maybe we can make it better," suggested Aramis, with a smile. The smile quickly vanished as Remy turned and glared at him.

"Thanks, but no thanks. Had all the help I need from you today." He pushed past Aramis and went to refill the bucket.

Aramis watched him go, confused. "What did we do?"

Remy sighed and stopped. "Nothing. Don't worry about it. I'll just sort this last horse out then I'm out of here." He hoisted the bucket up and strode towards the horse, which was watching him carefully. He put the bucket down and looked at the horse, which backed away slightly. Remy shook his head. "Yeah, I know, but I'll make you a deal. I won't hurt you, and you don't hurt me."

The horse snorted and watched him closely. Remy reached out a hand, and the horse backed away. Remy let him settle, and then tried again, but the horse still backed away.

Aramis watched, with a slight frown on his face. "Looks like he's going to need a lot of patience," he observed.

Remy spun around and glared at him. "You think?" He kicked out angrily at the bucket, intending to miss it, but accidentally catching it cleanly and sending it flying. The horse panicked and reared up. Remy stepped back out of the way, cursing under his breath, but he wasn't quite quick enough to avoid the lash of the rope hanging from the horse's makeshift halter. It caught him across the face. He staggered back, clutching his cheek.

"Let me see." Aramis was by his side him in an easy stride, and reaching for Remy's face.

Remy pulled away from Aramis. "I'm fine. Got to calm the horse."

Aramis looked at him, somewhat taken aback. "The horse will calm down in his own time. Your face is bleeding and needs attention."

"It's just a cut," snapped Remy. "I'm fine. Stop fussing." He headed off into the stables, effectively ending the conversation. Aramis stared at his retreating back, and shook his head.

"Something wrong?" Athos followed his comrades stare.

Aramis shook his head. "No, no, it's nothing. Remy's right, I should stop fussing. He's fine." Aramis turned and strode back to join Porthos.

Athos frowned, watching Aramis. It was unlike Aramis to sound so defeated. He absentmindedly reached out to the still panicking horse and grabbed the rope, holding it just firmly enough for the horse to know it was held, yet not enough to make the horse fight against the hold. He spoke quietly to it, waiting for it to calm. When he was sure the horse had calmed, he wrapped the rope round the rail and set off inside to find Remy. He wasn't sure what had got into the boy, but he intended to find out. He found Remy, leant on a wall, staring unseeingly at the floor. Remy straightened up when he heard Athos, but didn't turn to face him. Athos frowned, noting the slight dint in the wooden support column, and the fact the boy was holding his hand oddly.

"So, you're fine."

"Yes."

"You don't need a hand." Athos chose his words carefully. The slight tensing of Remy's shoulders told him he'd guessed correctly.

"No. Thanks."

"Hmm, well you'd better wash that horse down then. That's always supposing you've finished scaring it half to death."

Remy spun round, his eyes glaring angrily. "I didn't mean to scare it, it's just ... oh, it doesn't matter." He stomped past Athos to go see to the horse. Or at least, he tried to, but Athos grabbed him firmly by the shoulder. Remy struggled to break free of the man's grasp, and earned himself a swift cuff round the ear.

"Stand still, boy. That cheek needs some attention. Nasty cut. Doesn't look too deep though."

Remy continued to try and wriggle free, and Athos released his grasp. "I'm fine. Leave me alone. I have a horse to see to."

Athos shook his head, positioning himself firmly in Remy's way. "That horse is skittish as hell, and the mood you're in, is not helping. You need to calm down."

"I need to do my job," growled Remy.

Athos sighed. "Remy, look, I swear, I did not know you worked there, or I'd have gone elsewhere for horses. And you were very helpful to us. I didn't mean to get you into trouble with Donovan. Perhaps it would help if I explained that to him."

Remy looked at him, aghast.

Athos sighed "Or, maybe not. At least let Aramis tend that cut, and your hand." Remy looked down at his hand and pulled his sleeve down to try and hide it. "I'm willing to bet that hitting that support helped ease your anger, but made your hand hurt."

"I'm fine. What part of that don't you get. I don't need your help."

Athos stared at him, but the boy just stared back, defiantly. Athos shook his head. "Well, in that case, best you leave. You'll be no use to me in this mood. Go on, get away."

Remy stared at him, feeling the anger rise once again. "Fine."

Athos stood to one side to let him pass, and Remy left without another word.

-o-o-o-o-

Athos woke early and stretched, resisting the almost automatic reaction to find the bucket of cold water and dunk his head in it. This morning, of all mornings, he didn't need it. His head was perfectly clear, even though he wasn't sure that was good. He dressed quickly and headed out. He reached the stables near the edge of town early, though from the yelling coming from inside, not quite early enough. He cursed under his breath and quickened his stride.

"I told you, I wanted a decent sale."

"You got a decent sale. Five livres. You paid two, three tops. That's a profit."

"I wanted ten for those, more for that big lump. The small one, yes they took that off my hands and good riddance, but you've cost me money. That's coming out of your hide."

"Not my fault if they can tell the difference between a genuine good horse and one that's been made up to look good."

"You told them. That's it isn't it, you told them."

"I did not. How the hell did I tell them anything. Gerrof. Ow."

Remy curled into as tight a ball as he could, trying to cover his head with his arms, waiting for the next blow. Instead, Donovan squealed in pain. Remy glanced up, and was amazed to see Donovan with his arm rammed all the way up his back, desperately trying to free himself from Athos's grasp. A very angry looking Athos.

"Is your pack here, Remy?" Athos kept his eyes fixed firmly on Donovan, as the man squirmed around helplessly in the soldier's grip.

Remy nodded. "Yes."

"Good, go get it."

Remy scrambled to his feet and ran to get his pack. Athos leant in close to Donovan and growled in his ear. "If I find you abusing that boy ever again, there won't be enough thread in Paris to sew all your respective parts back together again. Do I make myself clear?"

Donovan muttered something, and then groaned as Athos twisted his arm. "Ok, ok, I get it, I get it. Look, if the boy means that much to you, perhaps we could reach an understanding ..." Donovan's words trailed away as Athos took a vice like grip on his shoulder and forced him to his knees.

"If there is any understanding to be reached, it will be with the boy, not you. He is free to make his own choices. Well, free apart from one thing. Remy, come here."

Remy had thought he'd approached the pair quietly, but Athos had somehow realised he was there. He edged a little closer, nervously.

"Remy, do you like working for this piece of detritus?"

"Piece of what?"

Athos shook his head. "Your education needs some work, boy. Scum. Pond life. Worthless piece of shit."

"Oh. No ... well ... no, not really, but it's regular work."

Athos frowned. "Well, we need to work on that. In the meantime, do you actually like working for this ... vermin?"

Remy shook his head. "No, Sir."

"Good. In that case, you're not working here any more."

Remy opened his mouth to speak, and snapped it shut when Athos fixed him with a look that would have withered a rose.

"Non negotiable, if you want to keep working for me anyway. Your choice, Remy. Here, or for me. And I'm making no promises on the work I can offer you."

Remy didn't hesitate. "Donovan, I quit."

Donovan spluttered, but quietened down when Athos squeezed his shoulder. "Got that? He quit. He doesn't work here anymore. So you are to leave him alone. Am I making myself clear?"

Donovan grunted, then yowled with pain. "Ok, I get it, he's yours."

Athos shook his head. "No, you really don't get it. Remy is not 'mine'. Remy is in charge of his own destiny. And he's chosen not to walk your path. So you will leave him be." He leaned in even closer, his fingers turning white with the pressure he was using to squeeze Donovan's shoulder, and whispered in the man's ear. "If I ever find you've hurt this boy again, I will hunt you down like the dog you are and personally rip you apart, limb by limb, excruciatingly slowly." He released his grip on Donovan's shoulder, giving him a sharp push in the back and sending him sprawling face first in the dirt, groaning in pain. "Come on, Remy."

Remy walked beside Athos quietly. Athos still seemed to be angry, and Remy didn't want to be on the receiving end of anything close to what he'd just done to Donovan. By the time they reached the barracks, Athos seemed to have calmed considerably. Remy risked a quick sideways glance at him.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome, boy."

Athos lead the way inside one of the barracks rooms. Aramis was sat in the corner, cleaning his musket, while Porthos was gnawing distractedly on a lump of bread. Remy groaned inwardly, remembering how he'd snapped at both men the day before, then squeaked as Athos grabbed him firmly by the waist, lifting him easily, and sitting him down on a table.

"Stay." Athos strode off through another doorway.

Remy stayed put, but squirmed a little, and tried not to look at the other men. Athos returned with a bowl of water and some cloths. Remy couldn't hide the groan.

Aramis chuckled. "You should have let me take a look yesterday."

Remy hung his head a little. "Yes, I know. Sorry I snapped. It was just ..." his voice trailed off as he searched for the right words.

"A bad day?" suggested Aramis, with a soft smile. "We all have them, Remy. Don't worry about it."

Remy breathed a little easier. One down, one to go. He risked a glance at Porthos, who'd abandoned the lump of bread and was now just looking worriedly at the grubby bandage Remy had tied around his hand.

"What did you do?"

"He punched a wooden support," supplied Athos.

Porthos blinked. "Er ... why?"

"Good question. Why did you do that, boy?"

Remy shrugged. "I needed something to hit. Seemed as good as anything. Was a bit more solid than I thought, and I hit it a bit harder than I meant to."

"Did you break it?" Aramis put his musket down, taking closer interest in the conversation.

"The support?"

Aramis rolled his eyes. "No, Remy, your hand."

"I don't think so. Just grazed my knuckles. Hurts, but not too bad."

"Have you quite finished?" growled Athos, though fairly good naturedly. "If I'm going to clean up this cut, it would help if he sat still and kept quiet."

Aramis chuckled. "I'll fetch some clean bandages."

He headed out as Athos gently tilted Remy's head back and examined the cut on his cheek. "Did you clean this up yourself?"

"Tried to," said Remy. "Not sure I did too good a job. Stung like hell."

Athos rolled his eyes. "Well, this is going to sting like hell as well, so try to sit still."

Remy winced as Athos gently cleaned the cut. Porthos watched, wincing in sympathy with Remy. Athos finally decided it was clean enough, and made Remy hold a cloth against it, to stem the slight trickle of fresh blood.

"I don't think that will need stitches, but you're going to have to keep it clean for a few days. Or try to, anyway."

"Ok." Remy sounded quiet and subdued.

Athos frowned at him, and caught the sideways glance Remy shot at Porthos. "I need some salve for that bruise on the side of your head."

"What bruise?" Remy looked confused.

"The new one that Donovan gave you this morning."

"Oh. That."

"This morning?" Now it was Porthos's turn to look confused.

"Yes," said Athos patiently. "This morning, when I retrieved him from Donovans. I'll be back in a minute. Stay there, Remy. And hold that cloth still."

Remy cast a few furtive glances at Porthos, but the big man was staring out of the window into the courtyard. He wondered what was keeping Athos, or where Aramis had got to. He took a deep breath.

"Porthos?"

"Huh? What?"

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For snapping at you yesterday. It wasn't your fault. I shouldn't have blamed you."

Remy was staring at the floor, and didn't notice Porthos until the big man had wrapped his arms around him and hugged him gently. He jumped a little, but didn't try to wriggle free. Porthos released him and ruffled his hair.

"It wasn't your fault either, Remy. Remember that."

Outside the room, Aramis nudged Athos. "Can I go bandage his hand now?"

Athos chuckled. "I think so, although I'd make sure you don't hurt him too much if you don't want Porthos growling at you."

-o-o-o-o-

"How exactly am I supposed to wash the horse if Aramis says I have to keep the bandage on my hand dry?" Remy scratched his head and stared at the horse with the three white socks.

Athos scratched his head. "I'm not altogether sure."

Aramis grinned. "You could get Lucas to do it." He laughed as Remy shot him a look of pure astonishment. "Yes, alright, maybe not one of my better suggestions."

The horse whinnied and tossed his head, staring at them. It was still roped to the rail where Athos had left it the day before.

Porthos joined them, draping one arm casually over Remy's shoulder. "I'm not sure he'll even let you wash him. Athos is the only one that's managed to get close to him so far. Maybe just brush him a little. Carefully."

Remy grinned a little sheepishly. "Yes, I know, no kicking water buckets near him today."

Porthos chuckled and ruffled Remy's hair. "You're learning."

Remy stuck his tongue out at the big man, and scampered out of reach quickly, heading off to fetch some brushes.

"Well, he seems more like himself today," commented Aramis.

Athos nodded and sat down on his usual bench. "He just needed to calm down and stop over thinking things."

Porthos snorted. "Look who's talking."

Athos shot him a baleful glare, which Porthos studiously ignored. There was a loud whinnying from the end of the stalls, and the thunder of hooves on the floor. Lucas came flying out of the end stable, skidding to a halt in the courtyard.

"He tried to kill me!"

Athos raised his eyebrows. "Who tried to kill you?"

"That horse. It's mad ... dangerous ... I'm not going near it again."

"Well that's two horses he's not going near now. Why does he work here?" muttered Porthos, under his breath.

"What did you do to it?" asked Athos, calmly.

"Nothing," protested Lucas. "Nothing at all. I was just cleaning it out, and it started trying to eat my head. I pushed it away and it went mad."

Remy emerged from the stables, armed with a couple of brushes and a cloth. "Ah, he tried that with me yesterday. He wasn't trying to eat your head, just chew your hair a bit. It's just his way."

"He was trying to eat me," declared Lucas.

Remy shrugged, put the brushes down and headed towards the end stall. He leant over the open door and whistled quietly to the horse, which quietened down, trotted over, and started nuzzling him.

"Yes, he looks very dangerous," chuckled Porthos.

Remy opened the stall door and led the horse into the yard. Lucas backed away.

"Keep that thing away from me. It's dangerous."

"Does he mean Remy, or the horse?" asked Aramis, quietly. Athos rolled his eyes.

"Do you name your horses?" asked Remy, stroking the big horses nose. The horse shoved him backwards, gently, and tried to chew his hair. "Hey, cut that out, you daft animal." Remy didn't attempt to push him away, and the horse soon lost interest and looked around the yard.

"Sometimes. Why, did you have a name in mind for him?" asked Athos.

Remy thought for a moment. "Not sure. He's got a white flash on his head, so maybe Flash." The horse whinnied and tossed it's head. "Or maybe not."

Athos leant his head to one side. "Well, when he stomps his feet, it sounds like thunder."

Remy grinned. "Thunder. Good name." The horse snorted and tried to set off across the yard towards Athos. Remy released the halter and let him go. "Looks like he likes your choice."

The horse stopped by Athos and tried to chew his hair. Athos rolled his eyes, reaching up to stroke the horse.

Porthos laughed. "Looks like he likes your hair too. So, if that one is Thunder, does that make the smaller one Lightning?"

'Lightning' whinnied and tossed his head in response. Or possibly in response to Remy starting to brush him.

Athos laughed. "Thunder and Lightning."