The Gate to Fenrith Lei : Never Judge A Horse By Its Coat

Wordcount: 523 words
Rating/Warnings: PG
Summary:

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Never Judge A Horse By Its Coat

“You realize that was an incredibly stupid thing to do.” Moonstar was managing to look incredulous, which for a horse was a rather impressive feat. “You can get killed here; this isn’t your story.”

“Of course it isn’t,” Wendy snorted, “I know horses don’t have green eyes. Much like I know pure white horses with blue eyes either die shortly after birth or are deaf.” She patted his shoulder. “But I won’t hold it against you.”

“I’m a unicorn!”

“Of course you are.” She finished prepping the rope halter. “Alright, you ready?”

“He really is unridable.” The unicorn nodded towards the boxstall. “They weren’t kidding when they said only Skye Sparrow could control him.”

“Ah, but I’m not trying to control him. I’m just going to convince him to hold still a minute so I can talk to him.”

“He’s a horse.”

“Well he’s not acting like one.” She hammered on the stalldoor. “Hey, you want out?” The black horse kicked the door in answer. “See?”

“See what?”

“One for no, two for yes. Weren’t you listening?”

Moonstar just stared at her.

“Okay, fine. Hey horse, can you understand me?” Thud-thud. “Would you like to stay in this stall for the rest of your life?” Thud. “Do you think Moonstar is an idiot?” Thud-thud. “Fine then, I’m opening the door try not to trample him for his stupidity.” She swung the stalldoor open as the black stallion waited patiently inside. “I hate to break this to you Mooney, but every horse Heather’s ever written into he stories has been wildly un-horselike when it comes to IQ.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” Moonstar stretched out to snuffle noses with the black stallion and was nipped for his troubles. “Hey!”

“You’re the one that called him a horse,” Wendy stepped backwards so that the black could get out of the stall. “Now come on, we’re late enough as it is.”

“Late for what?” Moonstar fell in beside her as she and the black headed out of the stables.

“Unless the gossip in the inn was wrong, and I’m assuming it rarely is, there’s a caravan leaving that we need to be part of. I’m pretty sure I can get a job as a cook’s helper or a general hand, so paying our way shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Um, why?” Moonstar looked baffled at this rather bland turn of events. “Sparrow was here looking for the location of the sacred Flute of Five Winds. There’s an old man who lives–”

“Lived.”

“What?”

“He lived at the edge of the Elder Grove, but he died about a month ago.” She shifted her recently bought backpack and then shortened one of the straps, trying to get the load to settle right. “His great-granddaughter stopped by to pick up his belongings, including in theory the map that leads to the flute. She’s part of the caravan that we’re joining.”

The three stableboys watched in something akin to awe as the little old lady walked down the road talking to herself, with a massive white stallion on one side, black on the other, and a rather amused grey cat following behind.

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Martha Bechtel

My name is Martha Bechtel and I write fantasy and science fiction stories, paint small model horses silly colors, cast resin and plaster magnets, code random code (and Wordpress plugins)... Come on in and join in the fun!

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