"Gossip in a small community spreads like summer grassfire," Lashan says loftily. "It's none of my business if you want to sneak off like a thief in the night, gives me peace and quiet sooner. Only you made my girl angry and she'd be like that for a week if I didn't bring her."

Vena does not contest this slander because she's clinging to the front of the saddle and trying to get down. It's tricky business without a stirrup and with Lashan there making it impossible to slide back. Thistle is also taller than the pony types she usually rides. She has to drop, and crumples a little when she hits the dirt path, knees bending almost up to her ribs in the landing. This does not hurt her, she's up again in an instant and smacking Guts in a spot not covered by armor.

It's not nothing, Vena is stronger than she looks, but Nerine hits a whole lot harder and with more purpose. Her small face is intent in a scowl that doesn't really fit it. "Jerk! You knew I was making something! You could've told me!"

Lashan herself is going, she's decided, to stay ahorse. Keep some remove. Thistle, now that he's not being signaled to hold still and wait, tosses his head and fidgets like a horse half his age, roused up by the ride and not happy that it's standing and talking time so soon. She lets him do that, pretending that the gelding has the greater share of her attention.