Chapter 43: Delling and Tove
Over by the pond, there was a bridge, and on this bridge stood a horse and a young man, their silhouettes hardly seen amidst the morning fog. They both looked out at the water. Though their gazes sought farther away, they spoke quietly together. They'd been together so long, and felt so comfortable, that often they enjoyed spending time together in long periods of silence. Tove, with his ivory mane tossed over opposite of Delling, eyed him curiously. “You remember when I found you?” Tove's deep entrancing voice rumbled from his body.
Delling kept his gaze ahead but put his arms on the railing of the bridge as he leaned down. He let a smile curl his lips. “Of course, even after centuries, I remember it as though it were just a moment ago.” He chuckled quietly.
“I never asked you to tell me why you said 'Tove' towards me that first night. Why did you?”