Althea

Puppies and Running

Phillip: Lover of horses
Origin: Greek

"Now that we've seen the erm, very charming barracks where should we go next?" I said, clasping my hands together excitedly. Solomon rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Well, I am rather familiar with the stables here, and we could visit Cassius too. Make sure he's settled in?"

"Alright, let's go." I strode with purpose down the hall. I turned around when I didn't hear Solomon following me. His face was completely blank, he simply raised a hand and pointed the opposite way I had gone.

"It's that way." He tried to keep a straight face but ultimately failed: I saw the corner of his mouth twitch ever so slightly.

"Right, of course. Why don't you ah, lead the way then?" I said, gesturing wildly ahead of us.

"I'll do that. Come on, it's not too far from here."

He led me through what felt like a maze of stone corridors before we came to a door that was rather unremarkable in comparison to everything else I had seen at the Moss Palace. I had also learned that every door at the Moss Palace told a story, and I couldn't help but wonder about this door and what it was saying. It was simple and wooden, with a roughly hewn latch in place of a door knob or handle. It took a fair bit of jimmying from Solomon to actually open the little door, but when he finally got it open I was surprised by one thing. For what looked like a stable, it lacked the distinct smell of manure.

The courtyard was astoundingly clean. It lacked any speck of dirt or otherwise. There were neatly trimmed bushes lining the walls of the castle itself and a flower bed along the wall, barely leaving room for the gate. The stables themselves were perfectly painted white oak, and the other buildings in the yard matched. Even the hay stacks had every straw in order.

"Wow, this place is cleaner than my house is." I said without thinking, mouth agape. I say Solomon look at me with concern briefly at the mention of my home. I elected to ignore it and the emotions that were threatening to spill over again.

"Yeah, the horsemaster, Phillip, runs a tight ship from what I've heard. More than one stable boy has been found in hysterics." He looked like he wanted to say something more, but before he got a word out, a pack of at least a dozen puppies rounded the corner, all tripping over each other and their own, oversized paws. I squealed and dropped to my knees immediately. They jumped and scrabbled their way onto my lap and began desperately licking my face. I laughed and fervently wished I had more then two hands for petting their tiny, wriggling bodies.

"C'mon Solomon! They all need to be petted!" I giggled. He raised an eyebrow, but sank to his knees. He flinched as a pair of the puppies climbed into his lap, his hands flew over his head; his face looked panicked and pale. Solomon looked at me, worry etched on his brow.

"What's wrong?" I asked, battling puppies away from my face.

"I, I don't like dogs." He whispered. "They scare me. They have big sharp teeth. And they're big."

I waded on my knees through the sea of puppies and sat next to Solomon. I grabbed the smallest puppy I could find and held it to my chest.

"Look at him. He's not scary is he? He's very small and a very good boy. Yes you are!" I cooed, rubbing noses with the little brown and white puppy. He yipped at me as if acknowledging his own status as a good boy. I passed him off to a dubious Solomon, who held him at arms length like the puppy was a bag of nasty garbage.

"Just stroke his nose. He's very gentle." I encouraged softly. Solomon tentatively ran a finger down the puppy's nose, who returned the favour with the smallest lick.