Yes, I've decided to update. No need to jump around, it's going to be a
small one.
...
Drizzt inhaled deeply once he entered the stable. It was filled with familiar sounds and smells—Low neighs, the sound of horses shifting from hoof to hoof, the scent of them—at that moment he felt less stressed then he had all day. He felt eyes then, and turned slightly. His host was staring at him—or, more specifically, his cloak.
"My skin is very pale," he said in way of explanation. It seemed like a rather feeble excuse, so he elaborated on it a bit. 'To take off my hood would invite sunburn."
The owner of the stalls nodded, and murmured some consolation under his breath. Drizzt sighed to himself, hating to lie to this kind man who was providing him with a horse.
...
Daine gently added the ointment to the mare's hoof and tied a bandage around it, while the admiring stable hand looked on.
"She'll be all right, but make sure the horseshoe is nailed on tightly next time, or it could be worse."
"Thank you for coming so quickly, Mistress Daine. Lady here is a favorite of mine, and I would hate for her to get seriously hurt."
Daine smiled and began wiping her hands on a rag, when a yell came from the front of the stable.
"Hey, Shawn! Where are you, boy?"
The stable hand stood from his kneeling position and shouted back,
"Lan, you old fool, where have you been for all this time?"
A grinning, burly man wove through the stalls, and began speaking animatedly with Shawn. He was followed closely by a hooded, cloaked man. Daine was startled to see this, however. It was late summer, and cloaks were tucked away in chests. Then she saw another oddity. As the man walked, all the horses turned to watch him, and some reached out their noses to brush him. None of them made a sound. Daine frowned, and reached her mind toward the horses. She felt, to her irritation, that none would speak to her, except for the gentle mare.
/He is pack, / the mare said, nuzzling at Daine's elbow. /Not like you. Different.../ With all her cajoling, Daine could get no more out of the horse. Frustrated, she shifted her eyes into a hawk's, and peered toward the man's hooded face.
Before it happened, the man seemed to hear something, and he glanced up. Purple met startled yellow, and for a moment, Daine saw a flash of colors. A tinge of black and gold, purple, then... white.
White?
Why white?
She had never seen the color white whenever she saw an immortal. Whatever strange creature he was, he was not human.
These thoughts she considered, as she crumpled on the ground.
...
Drizzt inhaled deeply once he entered the stable. It was filled with familiar sounds and smells—Low neighs, the sound of horses shifting from hoof to hoof, the scent of them—at that moment he felt less stressed then he had all day. He felt eyes then, and turned slightly. His host was staring at him—or, more specifically, his cloak.
"My skin is very pale," he said in way of explanation. It seemed like a rather feeble excuse, so he elaborated on it a bit. 'To take off my hood would invite sunburn."
The owner of the stalls nodded, and murmured some consolation under his breath. Drizzt sighed to himself, hating to lie to this kind man who was providing him with a horse.
...
Daine gently added the ointment to the mare's hoof and tied a bandage around it, while the admiring stable hand looked on.
"She'll be all right, but make sure the horseshoe is nailed on tightly next time, or it could be worse."
"Thank you for coming so quickly, Mistress Daine. Lady here is a favorite of mine, and I would hate for her to get seriously hurt."
Daine smiled and began wiping her hands on a rag, when a yell came from the front of the stable.
"Hey, Shawn! Where are you, boy?"
The stable hand stood from his kneeling position and shouted back,
"Lan, you old fool, where have you been for all this time?"
A grinning, burly man wove through the stalls, and began speaking animatedly with Shawn. He was followed closely by a hooded, cloaked man. Daine was startled to see this, however. It was late summer, and cloaks were tucked away in chests. Then she saw another oddity. As the man walked, all the horses turned to watch him, and some reached out their noses to brush him. None of them made a sound. Daine frowned, and reached her mind toward the horses. She felt, to her irritation, that none would speak to her, except for the gentle mare.
/He is pack, / the mare said, nuzzling at Daine's elbow. /Not like you. Different.../ With all her cajoling, Daine could get no more out of the horse. Frustrated, she shifted her eyes into a hawk's, and peered toward the man's hooded face.
Before it happened, the man seemed to hear something, and he glanced up. Purple met startled yellow, and for a moment, Daine saw a flash of colors. A tinge of black and gold, purple, then... white.
White?
Why white?
She had never seen the color white whenever she saw an immortal. Whatever strange creature he was, he was not human.
These thoughts she considered, as she crumpled on the ground.