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happening to the oversized crate they’d
buckled her into.
But Farasha hadn’t bitten off his hand
before she nibbled at the apple, so Chaol
prayed she’d forgive him for the rough flight.
Part of him half wondered if the mare knew
that his back ached, that he needed his cane,
but that he chose to be here.
He ran a hand down her ebony mane, then
patted her strong neck. “Ready to trample
some Valg grunts tomorrow, my friend?”
Farasha huffed, angling a dark eye at him
as if to say, Are you?
Chaol smiled, and Yrene laughed softly. “I
should head back to the hall,” his wife said.
“See who needs help.” But she lingered.
Their eyes met over Farasha’s powerful
back.
He came around the horse, still mindful of
her biting. “I know,” he said quietly.