Rhys and George ambled to the nearest stable where two more of the small men in red came out to greet them and take their horses. George dismounted and followed the one who was leading Mosby inside, wanting to be sure of his horse’s comfort.
As Mosby was led into a loose box, George asked, “What shall I do with my gear?” Rhys pointed to a room at the end of the stable aisle, clearly a tack room. “You’ll be assigned a chest during your stay. Come see.”
The lutin silently handed him a basket that had been hanging on the stall door. George unclipped his sandwich box and wire cutters from the saddle and added them to the basket. Then he unbuckled the girth and removed the bridle. Mosby bent his head to some fresh hay and oats in a manger and a welcome wooden bucket of cool water, while one o
