Tormod's sharp eyes shifted to Mhairi. "Fer the lass? Someone steady. Smart enough tae decide on her own if she makes a mistake, but nae so headstrong they'll fight her at every turn."
"I can hear ye talking about me," Mhairi pointed out, though there was humor in her voice.
"Good. Means yer ears work." Tormod's weathered face creased into a grin. "Come on then. Let's see who takes tae ye."
They moved deeper into the meadow. The horses lifted their heads as they approached, some curious, others content to keep grazing. A few young colts pranced at the edge of the herd, showing off.
"Just find one that feels right. One ye can trust."
Tormod had wandered ahead, making low clicking sounds that drew several horses closer. He ran his hands over each one, checking legs and temperaments with practiced ease.
"That bay mare," he called back. "She's a beauty. Four years old, good bloodlines, even temper."
The mare in question was indeed lovely, dark coat gleaming in the sunlight, strong legs, alert eyes. She came when Tormod beckoned, clearly well-trained.
Mhairi approached slowly, extending her hand for the mare to sniff. The horse investigated cautiously, then allowed herself to be stroked.
"She's beautiful," Mhairi said.
"Aye, she is. Fast too, when she wants tae be." Tormod patted the mare's neck. "But there are others if ye want tae look around."
They spent the next while moving through the herd. Tormod pointed out various horses, explaining their traits and histories. Mhairi listened carefully, asking questions about temperament and care.
But Alpin noticed she kept glancing back toward one particular area of the meadow.
"What is it?" he asked quietly.
"That grey mare over there." Mhairi pointed to where a younger horse stood slightly apart from the main herd. "Why is she alone?"
"Ah." Tormod followed her gaze. "That's a complicated one, that is."
"Complicated how?"
The breeder scratched his beard. "She's only three years old. Good stock, strong, smart as a whip. But she's... particular about who handles her. Took tae me well enough during basic trainin', but she's nae warmed tae anyone else yet."
"What happens if she daesnae warm tae anyone?" Mhairi's voice had gone soft.
"Eventually we'll keep tryin' different handlers. If that daesnae work..." Tormod shrugged. "We might have tae sell her off tae someone with more time for difficult cases."
Mhairi was already walking toward the grey mare before Alpin could say anything. The horse's head came up immediately, ears forward, watching this newcomer approach.
"Careful, lass," Tormod called. "She's nae mean, but she's skittish with strangers."
But Mhairi didn’t slow down. She moved with the same quiet confidence she used in the healing chambers, her steps measured and calm. When she got close, she stopped and simply stood there, letting the mare decide whether to approach.
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Then the grey mare took one step forward. Then another. Until she was close enough for Mhairi to reach out and touch.
"Well, I'll be damned," Tormod breathed beside Alpin. "She's never done that before."
Alpin watched as Mhairi ran her hands over the mare's neck, speaking too quietly for him to hear. The horse's ears flicked back and forth, listening, and she leaned into Mhairi's touch with obvious pleasure.
"That's the one she wants," Alpin said. It wasn’t a question.
"Aye, looks like it." Tormod tilted his head. "Though I should warn ye, me laird––that mare's nae fully trained yet. She'll need work, consistency, someone willin' tae put in the time."
"Mhairi's got time. And patience." Alpin's eyes never left the pair in the meadow. "What else daes she need tae ken?"
