Convincing the horse to allow the human to sit on him again was the hardest task. I promised I would find whatever the horse desired once we reached wherever it was that Cashel had come from.
Oats, the horse insisted.
“Oats it shall be.” I patted its nose. The horse snorted, then obediently stayed still. Helping Cashel onto his horse allowed me a quick grope of his slim, human body. He slapped my hands away, which made me laugh. I had to admire his bravery, and I certainly preferred his fiery indignation to his fear. “Very admirable,” I commented. “Striking a wood spirit like that.”
“I’m sorry, I-It’s just that I don’t like being grabbed. You startled me.”
“Ah. Then I apologise.” I handed him his boot once he’d settled on the horse. His ankle was too swollen to wear it now.
“Thank you
