***
Stenhelt stood in the center aisle of the huge barn, gawking at the size of it. Light filtered in from the big, open doors at either end of the building, leaving the high loft in shadow. The mixed smell of hay and manure was strong but inoffensive - especially compared to the rabbit hutch at home - and the breeze through the barn doors kept the air moving.
There were only a few animals inside at the time; most of the livestock was out grazing. A noisy stud bull was at one end in a gated stall, two dairy cows in open stalls near him, and one horse at the far end. Wasting no more time, Stenhelt walked toward the horse's stall where the handler stood.
Looking through and over the slats of the stall gate, he was awestruck with the size of the animal. Its pelt was the color of cut wood, but smooth and shiny. Its flowing mane and short tail were lighter, like churned butter. The only other horses he'd seen before belonged to Maker Winter-hand and his guards when they came to the village every spring. Still, Stenhelt could immediately tell that this animal was unhappy. It kept twitching and circling with ears lain flat, swishing its thick tail and occasionally stomping the ground. Its unease stirred a feeling in Stenhelt that he couldn't understand.
The handler's words interrupted his study of the beautiful animal. "Keep your hands clear, young sir. He tends to nip, that one. Still, a grand beast, no?"
Stenhelt had no plan to answer, but wasn't given the chance to even nod; a young girl's voice came from near the barn doors. "Father, one of the sheep is stuck in the pond mud again. I couldn't - oh, sorry," she stopped short, seeing they had a guest.
Stenhelt turned to see a girl about his age standing there with her hands behind her back. Her brown hair was pulled away from her freckled face, tied into a long braid. She wore the oversized garb of a field worker. He envied the girl her comfortable clothes. Turning back to admire the horse, Stenhelt all but ignored the short chat between the father and daughter.
A short time later, he felt the presence of the girl near his side and back a step, but he kept his eyes on the horse. The handler mentioned something about returning quickly and to keep away from the horse stall before hurrying off. Stenhelt had never seen the handler's daughter at summer lessons and rarely anywhere else in the small village, so he didn't know her name. He was a guest on the estate, so it wasn't his place to offer a greeting. Besides, some muddy girl didn't compare to the horse.
She stepped up next to Stenhelt and said, "His name is Temper. Auntie Vira named him after he was brought here yesterday." He only nodded, so she continued to inform him. "She's not really my Auntie; my mother is Lady Krin's cousin. She says to just call her that. Auntie paid two full bags for Temper at an auction in Troven. He and two other horses were caught in the Squall Plains, if you know where that is. It's somewhere north and east of here, I think. Temper was calm when they walked him in, but he got jumpy and mad when they tried to saddle him."
Any further words from the rambling girl were lost on Stenhelt. He'd noticed that the horse had calmed a bit after the handler left, but was still jittery and wary.
And then Sten's eyes met the horse's wild stare. A strange energy tethered his core to the grand animal's own, and all of his senses instantly converged on that mutual connection. Stenhelt inhaled deeply from a sudden surge in his chest; his heart felt larger, stronger. His pattern of breath changed to reflect the horse's own deep but quick huffs. A dull ache warmed his left thigh, and a sharp throbbing shot through his right hand.
A calm realization quickly washed over him; the pains weren't his. They belonged to Temper.