Chapter EighteenHe awoke to moonlight in his face; it washed the stableyard in silver, fading to gray the hard yellow dirt, and blurring the several shades of gray wood and gray stone to a single paler hue outlined in black shadows.
With a growl, he climbed to his feet; he had overslept. It was obviously two or three hours past sunset.
Something moved in the dimness of the stall. He peered into the gloom, and realized it was Frima shying away from him. His growl had frightened her.
With a start, he noticed where she was; she stood beside Koros, her tiny hand on the warbeast’s great black head, petting it. She had apparently gotten on friendly terms with the monster. Her other hand held the wire brush Garth kept for grooming his mount, and the beast’s eyelids drooped in an expression of
