The little master told me to take a delivery of harness fittings down to the Carriage House.
The quicker done the better; I hate horses, and that's a fact. One nearly took the head off of my friend Ned when we were but lads of eleven. Can't trust 'em. They're pretty beasts, though, for all they're fickle bastards. There's one stabled at the Carriage House now that is gold and white mixed... sort of shines even when there ain't much light. For a while I thought it was a slip of a lad that looked after it, then I looked close and saw it was a slip of a lass. One day not long since, I saw a rough garbed hunter type speaking with her as she was making to ride out a bit. He was a real longshanks, that one, almost as tall standing as she was astride her little pony; had the look of one that was no stranger to the wilds, either. Then she leaned down from her horse and kissed him right there in the plain light o' day.
It's enough t' make a man feel lonesome, though I'll settle for a steak and kidney pie...
