Jenny: Mizzle

Jason spun in his tracks. The mare snorted and skittered. The gentle rain had dampened Druce's hair and ran down his temples where a soft dark fuzz was beginning to grow. All in a tumble he thought of their childhood and growing-up years, and he gave a mirthless bark of laughter. "Angry at you? Heavens no, Druce. Not you. I'll let you know if I'm angry at you."

He was interrupted by a flurry of shouting and the scuffling of shoes across the garden stones, and he turned with surprise to see Domitia running for him, calling his name. He glanced at Druce uncertainly.