the darkest nights produce the brightest stars
Fennick couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. Kids were easier to talk to than adults. He used to think they were scary, but eventually he realized that they didn’t have the same expectations as adults. If you said something shamefully stupid kids wouldn’t judge you for it. They might laugh uproariously, but that would be the end of it. They didn’t whisper about it behind your back.
Or at least, Fennick sincerely hoped they didn’t.
He was still smiling at the little girl when an older one approached. He stiffened a little, then forced himself to smile and relax. Older girls were harder to talk to, they would quite often whisper behind your back. Not that Fennick blamed them overmuch, he tended to give a lot to talk about. But still, Fennick had been in the Valley long enough to know that it was growing, and to know that growth was a wonderful thing. His own personal dread couldn’t be taken into account when the good of the kingdom was on the other side of the scale.
Besides, this girl didn’t seem like the giggle and whisper type. Slowly, his forced smile reached his eyes. He looked up into her face and tried not to start at her orange eyes. There were, of course, stranger things. Fennick, himself, turned to stone every time he fell asleep. He nodded.
“Yeah, I’m Fennick. Good to meet you Thorunn.” Luckily, Fennick didn’t have long to awkwardly stare at her. A rather jaunty little man swaggered up, and Fennick had to bite his bottom lip to keep from laughing.
My, was he jaunty.
Fennick’s unsure smile broke into a real grin, though he did not laugh. He wouldn’t do anything to risk the colt’s pride. Clearly he had a great amount of it. Fennick met the lad’s eyes, and for the second time today found himself staring curiously. They were un unusual green, like the brightest spring grass but brighter. His grinned softened to a gentle smile.
“Both of you are welcome to eat as much as you want. It’s not mine, and it’s here for everyone.” Perhaps, technically, it was Demian’s grass, but Fennick was quite certain the king wouldn’t mind sharing.
“What are those someones called? Maybe I could point you in the right direction.” In truth, that was a little unlikely. Fennick was not the official, or even unofficial, greeting committee. He wasn’t always the best with names. He could, however, walk around calling that name until they people the foals were looking for appeared.
Hey, it was better than nothing.