"I still think your naming sense is questionable," she remarked, arching an eyebrow and resting one hand elegantly on Aralis's reins. Her gaze flicked from Mikhailis to the half-glider, half-elk contraption, and then back again.
She paused, letting her statement hang in the morning air, a teasing warmth in her expression. Aralis shifted, the embroidered harness jingling with every subtle movement, and Mikhailis could see how well Elowen already handled the mare. The horse, for its part, seemed to move in time with Elowen's quiet dignity. That synergy lent an air of calm confidence to the scene.
