Rifael, who was grazing in the grass, raised his face as I waited for him to notice me, and he lifted his forefoot and neighed.
āCome!ā
In response to my call, he came galloping towards me ā or at least I saw it that way. In reality, he brushed me off and I had to drag him over.
Ah, excuse me, I ārodeā him over. Details.
But his name is true. Dad named him. Seems he liked catchy names.
āā¦ Itād be better if he was a little smarterā¦.ā
Originally, the Larmee type were bread for their strength and power that could carry a load calmly with ease. It would be nice to say that he was an essential item in this country.
Perhaps itās human to say so, but even if this horse was reincarnated, it would still only have the wisdom of a horse in its past life.
I connected the wagon to Rifael while thinking about such things.
Sitting in the coachmanās seat, I grab the reins.
āHigh-Ho Silver!ā
You shouldnāt need a translation to understand that one. Yes, I know. It is a nori. It is a joke. I promise.
I beat down Rifaelās ass with a whip and we departed.
ā¦ ah. I want a friend whoād understand my stories and jokesā¦