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He glanced at her as they rode through the woods and toward the road beyond. “It’s said a Troll is tireless with the mating. Recovering, so they say, so quick, you wouldn’t notice there’d be a pause in the matter.”
“Is that right?”
“So the stories go, and the bawdy sort of songs with them. Which may be no more than bragging. But I thought it wise to test that out soon.”
“Reasonable. I suppose, being loyal to the Fey, I should help you out with the practice.”
“I’d be grateful. And more if you’d wash first, as,mo bandia, you smell of goat.”
When she sniffed at herself, winced, he laughed and kicked the stallion into a gallop.
If she hoped the brisk ride back to the farm would diffuse some of the aroma, Morena disabused her.
“You smell like Finnegan the goatherd, who forgets to wash more often than not.”
“I’m going to shower, and as soon as possible. Where’s Bollocks? I guess where’s Marco, as I left them together.”
“And together they’ve gone to the other side moments ago. Something to do with potatoes, and Keegan said you’d be a bit later today, as you had training out of the valley.”
Helpfully, Morena pulled a hoof pick out of her pocket, leaned on Boy’s leg, and began to clean the hoof while Breen unsaddled him.
“He wanted me to fight to save imaginary children from the evil clutches of the enemy who’d roast and eat them.”
“I doubt they’d bother with the roasting first, the bloody devils.”
As they rubbed down the gelding, Breen told her about the choice of the day’s training.
“You must’ve been worn indeed to lie down right on goat shite. That’s a high ways you took the air, the both of you. Can you only go up and down? I mean to say have you tried going forward or back for all that, once you’re up?”
“I don’t honestly know. It still takes considerable to go up. Down isn’t as much for whatever reason.”
“It seems to me you could, and if you could, it’s in a way almost like flying. You so wanted wings when we were little.” Vigorously, Morena brushed the gelding’s coat. “I could lift you, just a bit off the ground for a short ways, and you loved it so. Ma made you pretend wings out of wire and—”
“Bright green cloth,” Breen remembered. “With blue around the edges. Like a butterfly. I’d run through the fields and pretend I was flying with you.”
“Then Phelin—” Morena broke off, laid her cheek on Boy’s neck.
“He was such a tease,” Breen said softly.
“He was, aye, he was. But he didn’t mean to make you cry with teasing you about the pretend wings.”
“He thought I’d get mad, and give it right back to him, and when he saw he’d hurt my feelings, he took me up and flew me all around and around. An honorary Sidhe, he said I was. And anytime I wanted to fly, he’d take me.”
“It’s a good memory.” With a nod, Morena continued the grooming. “A good one, as he was good. The sad still comes and goes, and just yesterday I found my nan crying and my grandda holding her. She’s started her spring cleaning and found a picture he’d drawn for her when he was just a little.”
With a sigh, she set the brush aside. “But there’s so many good memories.”
Breen came around the horse. “I smell like goat shit, but I’m hugging you.”
Morena returned the embrace. “Oh, but sure you do reek.”
“Probably some top notes of sweat to go with it.”
“Go, get your wash. I’ll take Boy in for his feed. I’ll take Merlin,” she called to Keegan.
“He’ll want his carrot.”
“As if I wouldn’t know that.” Morena reached out to scratch Merlin between the ears as Keegan led him over. “And tomorrow’s training?”
