"Just follow me, marm!" he cried cheerily, and scurried off. Every few feet or so he'd stop, check that she was following, and then hurry ahead, as if terribly impatient for her to get there. It was probably just the normal impatience of a child, but perhaps it had been some time since his master had seen any business, and the boy was over-eager to have a paying customer make her way there. In fact, more than once he was lost to sight, down the next turn or behind a small group of people, but he always reappeared. Until he didn't.

This last vanishing was around the final turn into a smaller area where a few craftsmen had built their workshops - along with the blacksmith, there was a leatherworker, a fabric-shop, and a small jewelry-maker, though the last seemed abandoned for the moment. A handful of locals were milling about, some talking business, some just passing the time. As before, they looked over her with the same anxiousness as sparrows look on a hawk, and scattered before her, though most made some pretense of leaving intentionally. By and large, the place was deserted, which made it all the more strange that the boy was nowhere to be seen. As for the blacksmith, he was at work on an outdoor forge, beating a length of iron into what would no doubt eventually become a sword. Even so, the blade-to-be looked almost tiny in his large hands, covered with thick, well-worn gloves. By the look of him, he had been at this trade perhaps his whole life, perhaps he had even, in some long-past season, been a boy at the heels of another smith, hawking his own master's goods and picking up tricks of the trade where he was able.

When she first approached, however, he gave no indication of having noticed her. Instead, he continued working the iron for a moment more until coming to a suitable pause, and at last turned to face her. While she explained her needs he listened intently, almost thoughtfully, and looked down to Peony's hooves a few times. When she mentioned his apprentice, a brief, dark look crossed his craggy face, quickly smoothed away, but there, however momentarily, nonetheless. At last he reached over and patted the mare reassuringly, and nodded. "I've got a three shoes ready, but the fourth's not done," he said at last, his accent dulled but clearly distinct from the locals. "Take her on over to the farrier cross town, may as well have her feet made good before you put new shoes on them." Looking further south, he continued, "Just follow the main road that way, can't miss the place." 

Before she could leave, however, he stopped her again. "And marm? Best watch yourself carefully. I never had any lad working for me."