For this tiny donkey had taken it into her stubborn little head that she would no longer move.
And any donkey that didn’t want to move, no matter how diminutive her size, was not going to move.
It was that simple.
And that difficult.
This was the problem facing Artemis as she stood in the center of a quiet country lane with her faithful Bathsheba and the little gray Jerusalem donkey, who had planted her hooves in packed dirt and decided none of them were going anywhere.
Artemis heaved yet another sigh of frustration, which would get her nowhere, of course. As with all animals the world over, this tiny donkey had a mind and thoughts of her own. This little lady would decide her future, thank you very much.
Artemis understood her point of view, truly she did, but … “I’m taking you to a very nice home, little lady. A duke and a duchess live there.”
The little lady snorted, thoroughly unimpressed by aristocrats.
“A believer in democracy, are you?” She couldn’t imagine what a person who happened across them might think if they saw her talking to a donkey in the middle of the lane. “As a democratically minded little donkey, could you listen to reason? The Greeks came up with that, too.”
Little Lady’s ears twitched.
Artemis took that as permission to continue. “When we arrive at Somerton, we’ll get you a nice bath and pick all the burrs from your coat. Won’t that be lovely?”
Little Lady yawned.
“And we’ll get you the freshest, most scrumptious hay and a fluffy blanket. The warmest blanket you ever felt. And fields, Little Lady.” Artemis was really warming to her sales patter. “Not a small square of dirt, like you’ve had, but green fields to roam with other donkeys.” Her brow crinkled. “Does Rake have donkeys?” She rather doubted it, but no matter. “Anyway, you shall have company, Little Lady. Won’t that be nice?”
Little Lady remained unmoved—and unmoving.
“Oh,” exclaimed Artemis. “I know of an especially juicy apple in the kitchen, and it’s yours if you would …” She began punctuating each word with a firm tug of the rope. “Just … take … one … step …”
Sweat had broken across Artemis’s body; Little Lady looked cool as a cucumber.
At Artemis’s side, Bathsheba whined, her one eye imploring and her tail quivering with pent-up energy. She only awaited the signal to use her inborn skill at herding to bring the little donkey in line. Artemis shook her head. “I appreciate the offer of your services, my girl, but we won’t be giving any elderly donkeys a fright today.”
Artemis swiped her brow with the back of her hand, then set her hands on her hips, glancing up and down the lane, praying for a conveyance to happen along and spur Little Lady intomotion. Her prayers were met with bucolic stillness. With beech trees to either side of the lane, at least they had shade, even if autumn coolness had crept into the air. The green of the leaves had taken on an ombre orange hue in transition to full, crunchy brown in the coming weeks. A blessed breeze swept through and lifted the tendrils of hair stuck to her neck, and she closed her eyes and took a moment’s joy from the cooling sensation. When they opened, a lone figure had appeared around the bend in the road some hundred yards ahead. The man had a familiar hitch in his step, even as she noticed he’d fashioned a staff from a long branch.
Bran.
Her body had registered his identity in the split of the second before her mind had, a ripple of effects cascading through her. The fluttery beat of her heart. The rush of blood through her veins. Her breath gone shallow.
A smile tickled about her mouth.
She was glad to see him.
Nay.
She was happy—ecstatic—to see him.
And it wasn’t simply that he was here, but what his presence meant.
He was here because he’d sought her out.
For no other reason.
He was here forher.
How long had he been walking? How many country lanes had he trod?
It wasn’t easy for him—and he was here.
