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[tryto_fly]

He is sitting indian-style in the grass somewhere in back of the mansion. He's working energetically at braiding some long pieces of grass together. The result is a horribly ugly, tangled mess, but the task has managed to capture his attention anyway.

Comments

[tinydragoon]

Michael sees him. "Hello again! Ready to learn to ride?"

Typist: I post and now I must leave. Sorry!

[tryto_fly]

"Now?" he asks, and looks up with a start.

typist: no problem! :)

[tinydragoon]

"Why not? I found where the stables are."

[tryto_fly]

"Alright then," he says, climbing to his feet.

[tinydragoon]

"Good! Follow me."

[tryto_fly]

He does so wordlessly.

[tinydragoon]

Michael tries to make conversation as they walk. "How old are you anyway?"

[tryto_fly]

"What?" he asks with a start. Clearly, his thoughts were elsewhere.

[tinydragoon]

"Your age. What is it?"

[tryto_fly]

"Oh. Twelve." But he adds, after a pause, "Almost."

[tinydragoon]

"I'm surprised that no one's taught you by now. Most boys learn when they're... when they're. Well, when they're very young."

[tryto_fly]

"My father taught me different things." Or tried to, anyway.