Cocot found Hector at the castle basking in the sunlight. He had pulled the canvas sacks full of her shopping off of his back and her things were scattered in the grass. She stooped to gather them up.

"Hector, what am I going to do with you?"

"You looking for a butcher?" asked a gruff voice behind her.

Cocot blinked up into the light where the black outline of a man loomed over her. She stood hastily, stepping on her long dress hem.

It was Daniel. The boy from the farm who wanted her to leave him alone had come from his stand to talk to her.

"Sorry? Am I looking for a..." she said.

"A butcher," he said, nodding towards Hector. "To sell the old animal to."

"A butcher?" But butchers kill animals to eat.

"I saw you go around the market several times. I figured you were looking for a butcher. I know someone who will give you a fair price, though a horse this old won't fetch you much."

"A butcher," she repeated stupidly, "...to sell Hector to?" Understanding was sinking in.

Her alarm must have shown because Daniel uncrossed his arms and held his hands out in a gesture of peace. "Don't you want to sell him? Why else would you bring him here?"

"I actually brought him so he could carry my things," she breathed. "And I hoped one of the farmers could look at his hooves to replace his shoes. I don't want to sell him to a...butcher." She shuddered at the horrible thought.

"Do you want me to look at his hooves?" Daniel took a step forward, head cocked to the side.

She opened her mouth to say something, but couldn't come up with a single intelligible word.

"The last place I lived was next to the Bulle stables and I was hired on in summertime to help. I can look at his hooves and tell you if he needs new shoes."

"It's very generous," she said. "But I don't want to bother you. I didn't come today to...to bother you."

"Listen, I..." Daniel searched for his words. "I'm sorry. The day you came to the farm, I was...I would like to start again."

Offers in life didn't get any better than that. A smile bloomed through the tight furrows between her eyes and the sides of her mouth. "You can look at his hooves, if it isn't any...bother." He would think she was slow witted if she kept using that word. "They seem to be in bad shape, but I don't know anything about taking care of horses."

"No? There isn't much to know. Brush them off, feed them hay, give them clean water. These are the worst sores I've ever seen," he said, bending down to inspect Hector's ankles. "He's got some kind of dirt in them—you should wash them and rinse with ammonia. Or maybe bleach. That might help the infection."

"I'll see what I have when I get home," she replied. Ammonia indeed! "And the shoes?"

"I'll look." He took a hold of Hector's lower leg, crouching at his side as she had done herself, but the horse refused to lift its hoof. "Allez, old boy, up."

Hector started walking off and Daniel had to scramble backwards.

"No, Hector!" Cocot ran in front of him and pushed, her shoulder to his chest and the balls of her feet digging in the ground. It was like trying to hold back a glacier. He finally stopped several feet further away.

"Where's his bridle and bit?" Daniel asked.

"I don't have one."

"How do you make him follow you?"

"Mostly he just follows me. I click at him or pat his shoulder when he stops," she explained.

"He follows you when you click at him?"

"Like this," she said and demonstrated a few clucks. Hector blew in her face at the sound.

"Hold him still for me, would you? I've never seen a horse this marked up. Do you know how it happened? Was he used in the war?"

"I think he's seen some fighting, yes." Daniel might have meant the Second World War that had ended six years ago, but Cocot left the answer vague. How could she explain the truth about the fighting the horse had seen?

Daniel looked at the horse's eyes and head before teasing open his mouth in order to check his teeth.

"How did you get him?" he asked.

"He was a gift. His previous owner had no more use for him."

Daniel stopped looking into Hector's mouth to glance her way. "Not more of a burden than a gift?"

"No." She wanted to say more, but Daniel had moved around the horse's other side to kneel by his foreleg. This time the horse cooperated and lifted it, waiting patiently in tripod position while Daniel scraped and tapped his hoof with a knife.

"Any idea what kind of horse he is?" she asked, talking over Hector's back.

"The owner didn't say? Draft horse for farming. He must have pulled artillery in the war. Hard to say what kind he is exactly—could be part Percheron or full. Especially if he is from France." Daniel finished and went to the back leg. "I've never seen shoes like these. They need to go; his hooves are growing over them. I don't see the nails in them, though."

Cocot stepped to the same side as Daniel, keeping one arm across Hector's chest so he would stay put.

"How much do shoes cost?" she asked.

"Not much."

They fell silent for a minute before a thought occurred to Cocot. "You didn't leave the farm to take the cows to the summer pastures in the mountains?"

"Not this year." Daniel dropped the hoof and stood slowly. "The old man had someone...another boy from the orphanage take them up. I go up with supplies for him once a week or so."

A scowl clouded his face. She knew it was grinding work to care for the herd while they grazed all summer on the mountainsides. And she knew firsthand how lonely it must be—day after day with no one to talk to.

"I didn't mind it so much, the one summer I stayed in the highlands," he said. "It was quiet. No one was there to tell me what to do."

"But in the evenings," she ventured, "wasn't it..." The word that came to her mind was heavy, but she doubted he would understand.

"Boring?" he suggested. "Sometimes. I liked watching the stars. You can see them better up there."

"You went out at night to look at the stars?" She couldn't imagine deliberately going outside in the dark simply to stargaze.

"Of course," he chuckled. He walked towards her. Cocot retreated every step until they were both on Hector's other side. Daniel took the front hoof to inspect it. Cocot watched from the horse's flank.

"Do you watch the stars at the farm?" she asked.

"Sometimes. Not as often, though. I found a book once at a flea market. It shows the constellations and names of the stars. I read it ten times over when I was in the highlands."

"Do you still have it?"

"Sure." He moved closer to her to check the hind leg and she walked around the horse from behind, taking care to leave plenty of space so as to not scare him. She leaned against his other side.

"I'd love to see it once, if I could."

"You want to borrow my book?" he asked hesitantly through the horse's massive belly.

"Only if you don't mind. I don't know much about the stars. I don't ever...I don't ever really see them much. It would be nice to know more."

Daniel moved in front of Hector. "You don't see the stars that often?"

"I can't see much from the chalet with the forest all around and I don't go out....It's not safe at night to go out."

"The hills can be dangerous for travelers, but not if you know your way around. Stay on the paths."

"Of course. Thank you for checking his hooves. Do you know someone who can change his shoes—should I go to the stables?"

He cocked his head and stared at her, puzzled.

"What?" she asked. She had not said or done anything odd.

"I just noticed your ears stick out funny."

"And your nose is crooked!"

"Yeah. Somebody broke it for me once. I guess I knocked out a couple of his teeth."

"So you were even, I take it?" she asked.

"You could say that," he replied, grinning. "I can do his shoes. It will be cheaper. Bring him to the farm, early on Saturday. I'm coming to town to work in the stables that weekend. I'll be back Sunday afternoon. I'll do it and you only have to pay the shoes."

"That's perfect! That's wonderful! If it's no trouble, of course."

"It's no trouble."

The old farmer shouted Daniel's name from the stand at the market where the crowds were thinning and other sellers were loading carts and trucks to return home. He waved his pipe and yelled for him to get back to work.

"Looks like he's done with his beer and I haven't packed the crates," Daniel told Cocot.

"I'm sorry. Do you need help?"

"No. So he has to wait longer—he'll live or he won't. You will bring the horse on Saturday?"

"I'll be there just after dawn."

"Good. All right, then." Daniel stomped to the square, shoulders hunched and began stacking empty crates to carry.

Cocot gathered her sacks to retie them across Hector's back and picked up her basket. Clicking and clucking her tongue, she led the horse out of town to a field on the edge of the forest.

There was a metal trough so she pumped some fresh water for herself and Hector to drink, even splashing her flushed face and neck. Then, since she couldn't resist any longer, she jumped up and down, squealing.

"He's going to lend me a book and change your shoes!" She laughed and threw her arms around Hector's neck. He snorted and pulled away to graze. "Go on and be nonchalant. I will be happy for us both!"

Cocot found an inviting spot under a nearby tree and laid out her picnic lunch: fresh bread, cheese, a bottle of cold milk, and crunchy radishes. As she ate, her head grew heavy, body insisting on a nap in the cool shade and soft ground.

She stretched out on the grass—there was plenty of time. Even if it took them six whole hours to return, they would be home before dark. Long before it grew dangerous.