The boy smelled of wet sheep, wet dog, and dirty boy, but the ritual of sharing food meant Filis must take a hunk of the boy’s bread, as the boy took a hunk of Filis’s cheese. That close, Filis was a little surprised to see that the boy was a redhead whose pale skin had freckled heavily. Red hair was rare in this area; he tried to remember the nearest vill with a redheaded adult who might be this boy’s parent. The boy ate rapidly, almost gulping the cheese, looking past Filis at the horse, then at Filis’s hands, at the rings he wore.

“Yurr from Andressat,” the boy said, after wiping his mouth. “Yuh know t’ count?”

“All in Andressat know the count,” Filis said. Of course the boy would notice his horse, his rings. He wished he’d left his gloves on, but too late for that now. For an instant he felt a twinge of anxiety, but he had his sword and he could take the boy and the dogs as well if he had to.

“Jus’ wonder,” the boy said. “Yurr rich, though.” His gaze flicked to the horse, back to Filis’s hands, and then to the hilt of his sword.

“Not very,” Filis said. “Only one horse.” The boy just stared. The back of Filis’s neck tickled. Well. He could ride through rain if need be. He stood up, eased his way through the sheep, and looked out into the storm. The branch laid across the opening was no barrier for his mount—an easy hop, even onto wet ground. Rain still fell, though less heavily, and it looked lighter to the east. He turned back to see the boy edging toward his horse. “Storm’s breaking up,” he said, and the boy jerked to a halt. “I’d best be on my way.”

“Still rainin’,” the boy said. He stood oddly, feet a little wide.

Filis dropped his hand to his sword hilt, casually, as if checking its readiness. The boy’s eyes narrowed, then he moved away from Filis and the horse. “Not that hard,” Filis said. He was in no real danger, he was sure; probably the boy had only wanted to filch more food from his saddlebags. But the two dogs, now standing alert, ruffs bristling, were worrisome.

He turned his mount so he could see the boy and the dogs while he tightened the girth he’d loosened, then mounted and rode at the sheep; they scattered from his path, leaving an opening. A touch of his spur, and the chestnut rose on his haunches and hopped over the branch into the rain outside. The rain had lessened enough that he had no need to stop and unroll his cloak from his pack.