and eternity in an hour
—
It was less enthusiastic of a response than he would have liked. “I… don’t mean to inconvenience you. I’m sorry. And—scaring children?" Pravda’s bewilderment colours his tone. He trotted forward so they were side-by-side as they began to enter the maze and, at aloud and ghoulish cackle in the distance, he visibly jumped. “Why are you trying to frighten children?” He asked, in an attempt to cover his discomfort. For a moment, he thought about asking if she could explain to him the definition of a maze and its purpose. Was it to frighten children? It seemed slightly sadistic to him.
He decided against questioning her, however. The rows of corn stalks around them sufficiently snubbed whatever remaining light existed from the setting sun. His ears swivelled constantly and his bi-coloured eyes flicked uneasily between corners. They arrived at the first junction, where the maze split into two separate paths. Pravda edges right, but side-eyes his new companion. “Is this the way?” he asks, thinking that, perhaps, they were meant to head in a specific direction.
He could not have more clearly asserted the fact he has no idea what it means to “solve a maze’ then if he had asked for a definition. He must admit, there is something vaguely sinister about the mare—if only because she is large, and dark, and in the dim light of the corn stalks it is almost as if she is not a horse at all. Finally, Pravda asks another question. He has been staring too long, he realises. “What court are you, miss?”
