The Stables: Wednesday afternoon
Having no classes, Karal had spent the day working with Trenor. They'd finished, now, were just spending some time cooling down, when Trenor suddenly lifted his head, staring, every muscle tight and trembling.
"Easy, easy, Trenor, it's all right." Karal tried to soothe his horse, looking around to try and spot what had upset him. The only thing out of the ordinary was a slightly tacky statue at the edge of the preserve. "I did not know you were an art critic," he said lightly, trying to lead Trenor away.
The horse had turned into rock, hooves planted, refusing to budge. Karal just shook his head.
When, after several minutes, he still couldn't convince him to move, he reached up to cover both of the horse's eyes. It was only for a moment, because Trenor shook his hands off, but when Karal glanced back over his shoulder, the statue was gone.
Its absence meant Trenor was once more his old tractable self; Karal, however, was staring at the spot it had been.
"Easy, easy, Trenor, it's all right." Karal tried to soothe his horse, looking around to try and spot what had upset him. The only thing out of the ordinary was a slightly tacky statue at the edge of the preserve. "I did not know you were an art critic," he said lightly, trying to lead Trenor away.
The horse had turned into rock, hooves planted, refusing to budge. Karal just shook his head.
When, after several minutes, he still couldn't convince him to move, he reached up to cover both of the horse's eyes. It was only for a moment, because Trenor shook his hands off, but when Karal glanced back over his shoulder, the statue was gone.
Its absence meant Trenor was once more his old tractable self; Karal, however, was staring at the spot it had been.