[h1]Padoof[/h1]

    [h3]Outside Yggdrasil[/h3]


	A rickety paddock, hastily fixed together from fresh cut saplings encircled the merchant’s stock, keeping the dozen or more sickly looking beasts from wandering more the a few yards in any direction. The lush green grass within the enclosure was soon trampled or cropped to the dirt by the malnourished creatures. Forced to stretch their long necks over the wooden barrier they stared longingly at the grazing residing just outside their reach, whinnying pitifully. It mocked them it seemed, swaying back and forth in the early evening breeze, tempting and beckoning them forward to where they could not go. They had just arrived only a few hours past, and there had been no time to graze on the road before. Their owner, a thin man in his own right cared not about his merchandise’s dumb, mournful pleas, instead pitching for himself a tent, and cooking a thin gruel upon a small fire. His hope was that one of the animals he’d invested his livelihood into would turn a profit, from which he might afford a decent meal, or perhaps even boarding in the village, were all but dashed. The unforgiving road left the once fat ponies he’d bought ragged and flea bitten. Their mangy fur and scraggly manes a depressing sight even to his old eyes. At least one boon had been spared him; in his travels he’d captured a stray donkey, which still appeared healthy and strong. Shoveling in his meager meal the merchant stared over at his new prize in rapt curiosity.

	The donkey stood well away from the horses, or at least as far as it could get within the confines of the paddock. A wise choice no doubt, for even in their weakened state the larger horses would make quick work of a donkey. He appeared content to stand, pressed against the wooden fence looking about in a most, undonkeyish fashion, as if he was studying his new surroundings. He fascinated the merchant, who upon capturing him found the beast to be unspeakably well trained, almost responding at once to spoken commands. In all his trading days the merchant had seen only some hounds so beautifully obedient. He hoped, down in the dregs of his greedy heart that the donkey would bring not just silver, but gold once folk saw it for themselves.

	For Padoof’s part, for that was the donkey’s given name, he wasn’t quite sure what to think of his circumstances. He was hungry, and thirsty sure enough, and hopelessly lost in a strange place surrounded by yet even more strangers. His cousins, the dumb speechless horses were content to leave him be if he kept far enough away, and the merchant had been sparing with the whip. All in all the situation was not optimal, but neither was it dire. Padoof was sure that if he kept quiet and passive all would work out in the end. After all, it worked in the past. The manfolk would ask, he would do, and the shiny rocks would be exchanged and Padoof would have a new owner. Hopefully one that actually fed him.

	Extending a graceful hoof he pawed at the dirt, revealing a few roots which he ate in rapid succession, the expected snort sounding within seconds. Padoof retreated as a horse trotted over, snuffling at the spot Padoof was just at. Finding naught it resumed its previous pleading at the border, as if it hoped the fence would take pity and move aside for its pathetic, dejected eyes. Padoof held back a laugh, before scratching once more upon the ground. A new master could not come soon enough.