In Which Lyraina Uses the Obvious Adjective

February 27, 1168

"Really, it's fine," Had insisted once more. "If I'm not doing work for your father, then I'll be doing twice as much for my own; he's still punishing me for the whole thing with Lorn and Deian, you know."

Lyraina smirked. "He's going to be punishing you for the rest of your life for that stunt--and so will I, by the way."

The boy laughed as she landed a playful punch on his upper arm. "I'm really in for it, then."

"Damn right." The best thing about Had helping her father with the pigs was that he often ended up staying longer than he needed to, usually just to joke around and enjoy the unseasonably warm weather--a fact for which Lyraina was grateful, as they lived in different shires and hadn't seen as much of each other as they might have liked before.

"Not as in for it as your father is, though," he noted as Lyraina's grandmother's curses continued to ring from the house. "No one gives it like old Hilla."

Slyly, Lyraina turned and shot him a quick, narrow glance. "Her granddaughter might."

"Maybe so--but not until you get that thread out of your hair."

She raised an eyebrow; what had he just said? "There's no thread in my hair."

Indignant, Had nodded. "There is so--you jut can't see it, that's all."

"And you can?"

He placed his arm around her shoulders and gently combed out a lock of her hair with his fingers; after he'd finished, the arm remained.

"You little sneak. Where did you learn that?"

Clearly impressed with himself, Had snickered. "Careful observation of your parents."

Lyraina snorted. It wasn't ladylike, but she couldn't help it--besides, she supposed it was better to be heard over her grandmother's shrieks. "With my parents, observations don't really need to be all that careful."

"I know; I was speaking in relative terms."

Shaking her head, Lyraina glanced toward the pond and sighed as the little ducklings followed their mothers across the still, clear water. "Oh, Had! You're so... so..."

So... what? She struggled to find the right adjective. She'd been hoping for something either too profound for him to comprehend or too ridiculously complex for him to even know--but most importantly, she wanted to be truthful. Therefore, she went with the obvious.

"...short."

His laughter created an odd sort of euphony with the sounds of the hollering adults inside. "I'll be taller than you, you know--I'm a man, you know, and neither of my parents were short."

"Yes, but neither of them are tall either--my father's tall."

"But your mother's short."

Giggling, Lyraina raised her fist to punch him again, but she found a loud thud!--one too loud to be caused by her twelve-year-old fist at any rate--preceded the impact. Where on earth had that come from? Had something fallen inside--something large?

Stranger still was the silence that followed--never had she known her father and grandmother to stop arguing so suddenly.

"Had," she breathed, tearing her eyes away from the house and looking back to him, "what do you think that was?"

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