ten

They had returned back to the house for a fairly late lunch – Numair had apparently had a change of heart regarding his position in the household, and had attempted to prepare them a meal when they failed in time to prepare him one.

Daine, ravenously hungry at the time (though as Onua pointed out, there wasn't really anything unusual about that), was dismayed to discover that just because Numair had attempted to prepare lunch didn't mean it was actually edible. The only bits of egg still recognisable in the pan (apparently he'd been trying to make them omelettes) were pieces of eggshell that crumbled when Daine flicked them with her fingernail.

They had salad sandwiches again, though Numair did make them an excellent iced tea as compensation.

After their late lunch, Daine had been assigned to raking the arena while Numair was assigned to replanting Onua's vegetable garden – he'd pulled the seedlings up along with the weeds.

Daine was smiling to herself about Onua's face when she realised what had happened to her plants. Daine groaned and stretched, trying to straighten out her back. The arena, a large sandy area neatly fenced and filled with soft white sand, was a lot bigger than it looked. In front of her lay the sand she had already raked smooth and clear or sticks and stones that might get caught in an unsuspecting pony's hoof. She'd done about three quarters of the area, and her back was complaining loudly.

"What are you doing?" Numair asked from the fence.

He was wearing jeans and boots Onua had bought him the previous afternoon, but Daine was fairly certain the emerald green sweater wasn't something Onua would have chosen. Must have been in the bags George had brought, she thought, and why was she studying his clothes anyway? She had to admit, he looked pretty good.

"I'm raking," she said.

"I can see that. Why?"

"So I get the stones and sticks out. They hurt the ponies' hooves."

"It looks like hard work."

She raised her eyebrows. "I'm surprised you know what hard work looks like, Numair."

He grinned at her, and she was started by how nice his face was when he smiled. It was completely different to the scowling, sulking man from two days before. "It doesn't look that hard."

"Come and give me a hand, then."

"What do I do?" he asked, almost pleased to be told to help.

Like a puppy, she thought, a curious bumbling puppy spoilt rotten, but sweetness to his core. "There's another rake in the barn."

He trotted away obediently, and she stood resting against her own rake until he returned bearing his. "Sift through the sand like this," she demonstrated, her tired arms complaining, "and if you find any stones or sticks or anything hard, just lob it over there." She pointed to corner behind them now littered with small stones. "The sticks don't fly as good, so them you might have to dump over the fence where you are."

"Your grammar is atrocious," he told her, pushing his rake forward. "Like this?"

"That's fine. I thought you were gardening?"

"Onua said my lines weren't straight enough, so I was sent away in disgrace."

Daine grinned. "My Grandda liked his lines straight too – I used a string to get them right in the end."

Numair gave her a sidelong glance. "He sounds like an interesting man."

He was, Daine thought, and for the first time in weeks the memory wasn't overcome with an onrushing of grief. It was still painful and bitter to think he was dead, but the good memories were becoming brighter than the bad.

Numair wasn't as fast or as effective as her, but Daine figured that when she went through the arena again in a few weeks she'd pick out anything he missed then because it was probably too deep to cause a hassle in the near future. They worked silently as the sun started to lower itself in the sky, heading toward late afternoon.

"Good work," Onua called as they were racing each other for the last piece of corner. "I think that'll do for the day, Daine. I'm going to get started on dinner; you're free to do what you want."

"Thank you, Onua!" Daine called happily.

"What are you going to do now?" Numair asked, following along behind her as she walked up the track to the barn.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I was thinking of going for a ride," she admitted.

He frowned. "You've already been for a ride this morning," he reminded her.

"I was thinking of taking Cloud," Daine said, not really paying attention. "I saw a stream that looked good for a swim, and-"

"Is it safe to go off riding by yourself?" he interrupted.

She looked at him, completely confused. "Of course! What, were you going to volunteer to come with me if it wasn't?"

"Oh, no!" he said hastily, shaking his head, "I can't ride."

"Well," Daine said briskly, "that won't do at all. Wait here, I'll be right back."

She left him standing on the track, looking after her with a slightly worried expression on his face. Daine, however, didn't pay his confusion any attention – she'd had a brilliant idea.

"Onua?" she called, peering into the kitchen from the backdoor.

"What is it, Daine?"

"I noticed you have a pair of geldings in the field next to the pony."

"I do," Onua agreed. "In case I have bigger riders that are too heavy for the ponies."

"May we use one of them?"

"We?" Onua asked, suspicious.

"I'm going to teach Numair to ride."

Onua laughed. Loudly. "I suggest the spotted gelding for Numair – Spots is as sturdy and unflappable as they come. I might even come and watch this."

Daine grinned. "Just don't laugh too hard when he falls."

---

Spots was, as Onua had said, unflappable. Daine had run back to Numair, dragged him to the barn she had loaded him with tack, and then sent him to the arena while she went to get the gelding.

He'd lipped her hands in welcome and nuzzled her pockets hoping for a treat. "You're lovely," she told him, rubbing the cleft under his jaw. He'd sighed happily and hung his head over her shoulder, smitten for life.

Daine chuckled and slipped the halter over his head. He sighed again, in resignation, and stood patiently as she fixed the buckles and clipped the lead rope into place. Several hands taller than Cloud it was a touch tricker to get onto his bareback, but Daine had been riding for almost as long as she'd been walking and managed it without any problems.

His walk was long and ambling, a distinguished gentleman on a Sunday afternoon stroll. Perfect for a beginner, Daine thought as she patted his neck encouragingly. Numair was waiting for her with a look bordering on pure panic smeared across his face.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asked again as Daine slid of Spots' back and pulled the rope gate shut behind her.

"Of course it is, Numair," she told him. "This is Spots, Numair, and he's going to be your new best friend."

Numair looked doubtful. Spots snorted and turned to Daine as though to ask her what on earth she'd been thinking.

"He's lovely, Numair," she said. "Come and say hi like I showed you before."

The man looked very reluctant, but he held out his hand gamely. Spots nuzzled it with his velvet nose and lipped gently at the cuff of Numair's now grimy sweater. "See? He's lovely, Numair. Give him a carrot."

"Give him a carrot? Daine, the only carrots I've seen today were three days old and I thought they were weeds."

She laughed, and pulled a carrot out of her pocket. "Here," she said. Spots, seeing the treat, flicked his ears forward and nudged Numair expectantly.

"Oof," Numair grunted, stepping backwards in surprise. Spots followed, eager for his carrot.

"Daine!" Numair called, panic clear on his voice.

"Wrap your hand around the bottom of the carrot, make sure your fingers don't stick up," Daine advised, watching with amusement.

"Like this?" Numair held the carrot up. Before Daine could warn him, Spots reached forward and grabbed hold of it, biting it delicately with his teeth. The carrot crunched juicily, and Numair's face turned pale.

"Did he bite you?" Daine demanded.

"No, but I felt his teeth. Daine, I felt his teeth!"

"He didn't bite you, you're fine. You've still got all your fingers, and Spots wants the rest of his carrot."

"This pony is dangerous, Daine!"

"This pony is a horse, Numair, and he's not dangerous at all."

"He wants to eat my fingers!"

"Would you stop squawking for just a minute and listen?" Daine snapped with frustration. "Give me the carrot."

Numair obeyed silently, warily watching the horse-pony's head as it followed the carrot's progression. "When the carrot is still long you hold it like this," Daine said, demonstrating. "Keep your fingers low and out of the way."

"Well, I know that now," Numair muttered.

"Now, see how it's a little piece left? Hold it like this, and just let him pick it up with his lips. There? See? That's not so bad, is it?"

Numair was scowling. "I think this is a dumb idea, Daine."

She glared at him. "I think you're just being difficult because you're scared to try something new. Spots is a horse, Numair, not a wild animal who wants to tear your head off. Stop sulking."

"I'm not sulking," Numair snarled.

"You're acting like a spoilt child, and nothing has even happened."

Spots snorted in agreement, nodding his heads vigorously. "You see?" Daine said, laughing. "He agrees."

Daine watched Numair, standing in his brand new jeans and ruined green sweater, and realised that this was hard for him. He'd never been around animals or spent days digging in soil with his bare hands. The skin of his palms was blistered, and while his figure was definitely one to be admired, it was the build of a man who spent more time inside a gym that one outside doing hard labour.

"I'm sorry," Daine said quietly. "I didn't mean to get annoyed at you."

"It's okay," Numair said, his voice unsettled. "What do I do now?"

She showed him how to put on a bridle, teaching to make sure it wasn't buckled too tightly and the straps were properly positioned. When she put the saddle on she made sure he knew to smooth the saddle blanket first, and when she tightened the girth she made him run his fingers under the band to check that none of Spots' skin was pinched.

"You have to make sure it's tight," Daine said, tugging on the girth. "Some horses are smart, the swallow air and blow out their bellies. Then when you get on the saddle is loose and you end up on the ground wondering what happened. But Spots doesn't do that, do you boy?" She patted the gelding's neck and turned to Numair with a smile on her lips.

"So you think you can do that?" she asked.

Numair looked doubtful.

"It's okay, I'm not going to make you do it over and over again today, but you need to learn how to saddle them properly for yourself."

Numair nodded weakly.

"Okay, ready to get up?"

He swallowed, and she was scared he would baulk like a frightened pony, but he nodded his head stubbornly and asked, "How?"

She made a cradle with her hands and rested it on her thigh. "We always mount up on the left side. Put your left foot in my hands and I'll give you a boost; make sure when you swing your right leg over you swing nice and high and don't kick him in the rump. They don't like being kicked anymore than you do."

Numair looked doubtful. "I have to step on you?"

"Only for a few seconds," she said. "I'll help push you up."

"I'm too heavy," he said flatly, shaking his head. "Isn't there a ladder or something?"

She giggled. "Stop being silly, Numair, and step up. You won't hurt me."

Spots, getting bored simply standing around, worked at his bit and raised a hind leg to scratch at the girth. "Stop that, you," Daine said, nudging him with her shoulder. The horse huffed in annoyance and stamped the foot down, impatient.

"How do you get up without help?" Numair wanted to know.

"I put my foot in the stirrup and swing myself up."

"I'll do that then. I'm not stepping on you, Daine."

Daine sighed. "It's not as easy as it looks, Numair."

There was a stubborn jut to his jaw that looked surprisingly similar to the jut in Daine's when her mind was made up. "I can do it, Daine."

"Suit yourself."

She held Spots' reins, and helped steady the stirrup as Numair tried to lift his foot and get it in the metal loop. His feet were huge, Daine thought in awe as she watched him force his foot into the stirrup.

"Now what?" he panted, balancing awkwardly on one foot, fingers clutching at the saddle to trying and keep his balance.

"Jump up and swing your right leg over his rump," Daine instructed. "Try not to kick him, and be careful with your left foot else you'll dig it into his side and he won't like that either."

Numair lurched himself up, but he wasn't as agile as he thought he was. His left foot kicked into Spots' side and his right didn't make it anywhere near Spots' back. Spots whickered in protest, dancing sideways to try and dislodge the pressure in his ribs. Numair, foot still in the stirrup, was dragged along, hopping and fighting for his balance.

Daine steadied the horse, trying hard to fight the smile from her lips.

"Try again," she instructed. "And this time, try to get higher."

Numair tried twice more, each time getting a little higher than the time before, but still digging his toes into Spots' side and kicking the poor gelding with his big booted feet. The fourth time he tried he managed to get his leg to swing over. He still kicked Spots in the rump and dug into his ribs, but Numair was sitting in the saddle and looking quite surprised at that fact.

"I did it?" he asked.

"You did it," Daine agreed.

He grinned broadly.

"Don't do anything," Daine told him. She measured the stirrups and shortened them, and then showed him how to position his feet so that if he fell his feet wouldn't get stuck in the stirrups.

"Ready to go for a ride?" she asked him.

He clutched desperately at the saddle. "Ready," he said.

"Hold the reins, like this. Now don't pull them too tight. Good. Okay, just relax Numair, I'll walk him. You don't have to do anything. Just sit and get used to the feel."

Spots swished his tail and shook his head, eager to get going. Keeping a careful eye on Numair, she led the gelding around the arena.

Numair's seat was terrible – his elbows were flying and his toes almost ninety degrees in the stirrups, with his weight tipped forward in the saddle and reins miles too long. Daine grinned, and let Spots around again.

"Onua!" Numair called suddenly. "I'm riding!" he exclaimed with a boyish delight.

"I can see that," Onua said dryly, but Daine was pleased to see a smile on her lips and lurking around her eyes.

"I'm riding a pony," Numair said, almost happily.

"Horse," Daine corrected with a smile on her lips.

Spots' only comment was to flick his ears back and forth.

---

And very soon we start getting to the good stuff, I promise! As usual, reviews are adored, particularly ones with some constructive criticism.