I have to admit a distinct fondness for Alton. He’s confident, self-possessed and not afraid to stand up to protect friends and family. A wood sprite, he’s lived far longer than he looks, but let there be no doubt in anyone’s mind – he’s a formidable opponent. Only the very foolish cross him. It would seem that the tavern keeper of the inn where they spent the night, is one of these. His friend, Revanth, is a man made horse by an evil witch.
“Where’s my horse?” Alton demanded. “I left him here, in your care, last night. Where is he?”
“What sort of horse, good sir?” The groom appeared somewhat touched in the head. His speech was slow and deliberate.
Alton wasn’t sure the man understood him, but he described Revanth in detail.
The groom shook his head. “Warn’t narry sech horse here when I come to work dis…
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