All around them the lads scurried about their afternoon chores as the horses hung their heads over their stable doors, whickering hopefully for food. Butterflies danced above the flowerbeds. Seeing him, the lads laughed and waved. Bellybone catcalled, grinning, and wagged a rude finger. Asher wagged back but couldn’t quite manage a return grin. Suddenly, sharply, he missed the rough simplicity and uncomplicated companionship of the stables. ‘Where’ve you been?’ said Matt, looking him up and down with appraising eyes. ‘The carriage got back from town ages ago.’ Asher scraped a line in the gravel with his heel. ‘Walkin’.’ ‘For three hours?’ ‘So? Ain’t no law against it last time I looked.’ Sighing, Matt hooked his thumbs into his scarred leather belt. ‘You’ve been avoiding me lately. Why?’ Asher shrugged. ‘Didn’t want to talk about Spake.’ ‘Who says I did?’ ‘You sayin’ you didn’t?’ Matt pulled a face, admitting defeat.
