STABLE BOY ; Trash of the Count's Family

23. FIGHT OR FLIGHT

"Oh, you're the one that was wrestling the horse!"

Cage's greeting for South was predictably blunt. Taylor seemed to physically hold back laughter when Cage just blurted that out.

South tried to get up, but the horse around his lap pressed down, refusing to allow it.

Ponychael then grunted at Taylor and Cage warningly.

Recognizing hostility, Taylor quickly addressed. "Oh, no need for that, continue with your work."

South immediately obeyed, settling back down on the wooden crate. Ponychael proceeded to immediately rest his head in South's lap, throat rumbling for him to continue untangling his hair.

On had tied it into mini braids everywhere and now half of it was too knotted to comb out. Pengallope laughed at Ponychael for it and got bitten for his efforts.

"...isn't that the same horse as before? So you two do get along!" Cage mused, very impressed. "Almost funny how sweet it is to you when you were playfighting the other day."

South hummed. "All of the horses in the Henituse estate are like family to me," he said. Ponychael neighed at him in disagreement, "sometimes we fight, sometimes we get along, sometimes they just want attention."

While Cage seemed to understand that, Taylor faltered.

He was foreign to that type of wholesome family dynamic. Ponychael chewed on the edge of South's sleeve while he worked through the knots carefully. Occasionally he'd tug too hard and South would chuckle out some apologies, and then they'd continue.

Just a few days ago, they wrestled like they were trying to assert dominance and become the leader of the pack, but today, they were full of care and comfort.

Taylor could only ever imagine a scene like this in his wildest dreams.

"I'm jealous!" Cage beamed, "animals don't really like me, but as expected from a pro, this is so easy for you."

Taylor watched her warily— clearly she was trying to cosy up to him in some sort of petty defiance of all the knights that spent all their journey steering her away from their precious stable boy— but the stable boy didn't seem to mind.

"Well... I was raised by a horse, so it's normal."

"You were raised by one?"

"Yes. When I was young, a stablehand found me being nursed by a horse, and the rest was history," South said, a tired drone in his voice that meant this wasn't the first time he told this tale.

South sighed longsufferingly, lifting his arm, the edge of his sleeve connected to the horse's jaw.

"They're so annoying. Ponychael here has eaten ten of my shirts and he's STILL eating my eleventh shirt," South hissed at the horse, who had the gall to hiss back like he wasn't still biting it, "one day I'm going to feed you fabric instead of fruits and hay and you wouldn't know the difference. You're so—"

He trailed off.

Cage looked over and froze. Taylor did, too.

South's head drooped to the side, his hands frozen mid brush. His eyes were closed, and his body swayed to the side, his center of gravity barely centering forward.

However, instead of dropping onto the horse in front of him, his body dropped like its strings were cut, sharply to the side.

Right off the crate and—

—Taylor jerked forward, "that's dangerous—!!"

He reached out an arm, but he couldn't get out of his chair, and barely managed to wedge his hand between South's head.