The stables are laid out neatly, hay bales lying outside closed stalls where the horses watch your nosing around with some curiosity. They’re all beautiful, broad-snouted and fierce-eyed. They must be owned by the Lord of the manor or whomever lives here, you conclude.
However, from your quick look, you have not seen any food, and your stomach begins to protest, grumbling.
You walk further, passing more horses, but none of them pay you any attention any longer. That is, until you turn a corner and come face to face with three more horses. Two are dappled and quickly run from your presence, but the other stays as you near it.
The bay-coloured one seems to call to you, it tossing its mane back and forth, in and out of the edge of your vision. You stop, turn, and stare it in the eye, before the horse itself backs away. It inclines its head towards you slightly, as if in some twisted greeting.