“That’s nickering, not snickering.” Miles grinned. He tapped Fat Ninny behind his left foreleg, and the horse obediently grunted down onto one knee. Miles clambered up readily to his conveniently lowered stirrup. “Does mine do that?” asked Dr. Dea, watching with fascination. “Sorry, no.” Dea glowered at his horse. “This animal is an idiot. I shall lead it for a while.” As.”
