| [ Here's a shot of a large horse nose in the camera's lens, straw tips poking into the area of the frame. An angle like this points to the communicator on the ground, and it sits there a minute or two before a gloved hand comes to pick up the device.
The frame fits to a more typical shot, one of Amory turning his head to talk toward the camera. Peeking over his shoulder is that same white horse, with Amory's spare hand firmly gripping the bite of his reigns. ]
This curse seems to be a seasonal issue by the deities.
[ A pause, as he starts leading the horse of its pen. ]
If there's anyone from home, you should know explicitly whether I want to see you or not. That excludes most of you. |
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