Morning's Journey
“The occasion in question, Lugnasadh, started on the calends of August and would run for a week to honor the bull-god Lugh with such activities as horse racing, cavalry drills, animal exhibitions, and sales—not only sales of livestock, but clothing, jewelry, weapons, tools, food, drink, medicines, and anything else that could be piled onto a wagon or stuffed into a crate, barrel, or sack. The meadows surrounding Arbroch had grown tents and booths and pens by the score, rendering it impossible to... walk in a straight line from one end to the other. Music and haggling and laughter abounded, often masked by roars of approval as a race ended.
The odors of live animals clashed with roasting meat, making it hard to decide upon the more pervasive. Since a mare stood closest at the moment, Morghe opted for the former.
What a sleek animal, too: black as midnight, with a white blaze and three white-stockinged feet. While the owner held the halter, Morghe rubbed her hand over the velvety nose.
“Looks can tell you only so much, my lady.”MoreLess
The odors of live animals clashed with roasting meat, making it hard to decide upon the more pervasive. Since a mare stood closest at the moment, Morghe opted for the former.
What a sleek animal, too: black as midnight, with a white blaze and three white-stockinged feet. While the owner held the halter, Morghe rubbed her hand over the velvety nose.
“Looks can tell you only so much, my lady.”MoreLess
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