(--)
Ithiel is by me!
Ithiel did not float closer to the noise and motion, but looked toward Lystra. The big chestnut was placid and ignoring the obvious presence as if it was not there. She continued her grazing without even so much as a glance toward the movement in the grasses. Ithiel remained still, waiting. He was perplexed -- why was his horse so calm? Perhaps it was only a squirrel, and she could see this. Squirrels did not rustle entire tussocks of grass. There was a sudden, more violent tremble from the plants, and Ithiel could not stand it any longer.
The dusky-colored hybrid pushed off the lakebed with his toes and paddled nearer to the growth, though he did not come ashore. Who's there? he asked, knowing he'd feel rather foolish if a squirrel or other small animal bolted from the grasses just then. His horse's strange behavior, though, had set him on edge, and Ithiel was not prepared to continue his swim without ascertaining his safety and the safety of his horse and things. A thief would find it wonderful to throw a rock and strike his head -- perhaps drowning him, with a lucky enough throw.
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