It is not merely the donkey you must contend with, Constance. You have perhaps grown used to the gradual and cold-blooded pace of Apricot. Perhaps you have come to see him as an aspect of the hills, peaceful and eternal. This is the same mistake a younger Robena made in the land of Anatolia where she was asked to choose one horse from amidst six while being too naïve to perceive the gleam of gluttony in equine eyes.

Apricot spins, craning his neck back, body-blocking the donkey from getting any closer to the carrot. He twists his neck backwards that he might assault his rider and steal the carrot of this innocent traveller. As he is not quite flexible enough to reach he starts to spin in circles in the manner of a dog chasing its own tail. While this began as greedy reaching, you have the undeniable impression that this horse is aware enough of his bargaining position to continue to spin around and around until his demands are met. No innocent victim is he; this is a bandit who knows full well that he commits theft, kidnapping and blackmail, and his heart is unmoved.

"I apologize, lady, for I cannot intervene," said Robena with false remorse. "If I were to assist you feeding the donkey, I would make an enemy of my horse. If I were to assist Apricot in his criminal grasping then I would be breaking my knightly vows. This matter falls to you to adjudicate."