The sun and moon change, the stars change.

On this day, there was not a breath of wind or a cloud. The summer afternoon sun was scorching Sicily. The out-tempered Mount Etna seemed to feel hot. It blew out a smoke ring, shook itself and took off a snow coat.

The water merged into a stream, rushing down happily. They passed through sparse bushes covered with volcanic deposits, passed through a forest of chestnut trees, beech, oak, pine, and birch, and merged into a small stream.

In the north, the Alcantara River, attracted by the vineyards, olive groves, and citrus groves scattered across the foothills, slows down and eventually flows slowly across a valley full of farmland.

If you look at this valley from the sky, it looks like a giant horse has stepped on the folded mountainous terrain, creating a horseshoe-shaped basin, while there is still a small hill in the middle of the valley.

A clear child's voice broke the peaceful afternoon, "Don't move any more. If you do, I won't wash you."

The sound came from a shoal by the river. A 6-year-old boy was struggling to bathe a pony that was about three years old. The horse was covered in maroon with no trace of hair. It looked peaceful, but if you look closely,

, its eyes were rolling, its ears were shaking slightly, and its tail was lightly shrugging. It obviously had its own ideas and was by no means as well-behaved as it appeared.

"It's done. Just stand there and don't move. I'll get a dry towel to dry you off." The boy said, turning around to get the towel.

The pony that was standing quietly suddenly jumped out and ran into a muddy pond. It lay down and rolled around, rubbed its back hard a few times, then got up and ran back in the blink of an eye.

It moved to the place where it originally stood, and the position was exactly the same. It stood obediently, as if it had never left.

But how could such a big movement be hidden from the boy? The boy noticed it when the horse ran away. He stared at the horse, which was so smart that it ran back and stood up. His face was already red with anger.

The boy suddenly threw the dry towel into the basin, picked up the bucket and poured it over. The pony was completely splashed, so he stopped pretending to be good and ran back and forth on the water. The boy poured another bucket of water on it.

, the pony dodged quickly. The boy splashed several times, but the pony dodged it. He bent over tiredly and gasped, and ignored the pony. The pony feinted twice, and found that the boy ignored it, so he

He stopped playing around, walked over to the boy with his head lowered, and nudged him with his head.

The boy patted the pony's neck and said: "Gift, it's getting dark, so we can't make any more noise."

The pony named "Gift" seemed to understand and nodded, obediently letting the boy wash and dry it.

The clouds in the west had begun to burn, and the boy, carrying a basin and a bucket, walked with the pony to the hill in the middle of the valley.

There is a small town on the top of the mountain. The town is really small. There are only dozens of wooden houses of different heights sandwiched between a bluestone road. A wooden fence around it can only keep out small beasts. The gate of the wooden fence is open.

There is no one to guard it either.

The boy and the horse walked straight in. The horse's hooves hit the bluestone road, and the clattering sound could be heard far away. They passed a dilapidated church, which was the only all-stone building in the town. There were a lot of ivy climbing, and it was obviously not well-kept.

Take care of.

Not long after they walked, the road came to an end, where there was a slightly larger wooden house. The boy patted the horse, and the pony walked towards the stable on its own.

The boy opened the door, and suddenly a noise came out. Five men in the room were noisily drinking and eating meat around a wooden table. A bald man with a beard that reached his chest saw the boy coming in, and picked up a wooden wine glass. , waving his pork knuckle and shouting: "Come on, Roger, let's have a drink together."

Roger kept walking and replied: "It's Friday, Father Bobo."

A man with a scarred face on the table immediately reached out to grab the pork knuckle on the priest's plate and shouted: "We should fast on Wednesday and Friday."

The priest did not hesitate to push away the thief's hand with his arm, grabbed the pig's knuckle, and shouted: "I am an old man, and old people do not need to fast."

Roger put the basin and bucket away, and then said: "You are not old, you are sick."

"Yes, I'm sick." The priest chewed the pork knuckle and sprayed the meat foam and said, "My disease needs to be treated with pork knuckle."

Everyone laughed. Roger walked up to the main seat and said to a man with a burly body and thick bones: "Baron Rollo, I'm back."

The baron showed a kind smile and said: "Go to the kitchen, they have left you something to eat. I have something to tell you later."

So Roger no longer paid attention to the scarred coachman who was teasing the priest, the blacksmith who was engrossed in eating, and the ranger who was drinking with the baron, and walked into the kitchen separated by a wall.

There were three women in the kitchen, the coachman Usman, the blacksmith Smith, and the wife of the ranger Woodward. They left some onions mixed with minced meat and lentils for Roger. After thanking him, he sat down to eat his dinner. Halfway through, the back door of the kitchen was opened by a horse.

"Get out," the coachman's wife complained to Roger as she rushed the "gift", "Roger, take care of your horse. Why don't you tie it up? Who can raise a horse like you?"

Roger had no choice but to put down the spoon, grab a handful of oats from the urn, and push "Gift" to the stable. "Gift" lowered his head to eat the oats in Roger's hand. Roger coaxed it: "Don't worry, don't worry, there is something for you to eat." .”

Roger spread his hands to let it eat, and then sprinkled the rest on the hoeed forage mixed with wheat bran in the trough in front of it, so the "gift" ate it in big gulps. Roger He touched its back with satisfaction and refilled its water tank. Looking at the "gift", he couldn't help but recall some past events...

"Dad, here's my birthday gift."

"Roger, it is not our Christian etiquette to celebrate birthdays." The count said solemnly.

"No, I want it, I want it." Roger started acting coquettishly.

So the count surrendered, shamefully quickly: "Okay, okay, a gift, a gift, how about a pony?"

Roger was stunned for a moment: "Dad, are you serious?"

"Oh no, I was just joking with you," said the count.

"Oh, you can give me whatever you want. Actually, I don't really care what I receive." Roger played with his fingers, pretending not to care.

"That's what you said. My gift is just a small riding crop." The Earl took out a small riding whip and handed it to Roger, "But, maybe you can find a use for it in the stable."

Roger's eyes widened. He understood the hint, but he couldn't believe it. He ran out of the stone house and even forgot to thank his father. In the stable, he saw a maroon pony, about one year old, with no body parts. A stray hair.

Roger ran back to the hall like a whirlwind: "Dad, I love you, thank you, you are so good, so great..." Roger was so happy that he was incoherent.

The earl smiled and watched his son cheering for joy in the hall. He whispered: "My son, your joy is the value of my efforts."

Roger's rabbit ears heard it, but he was so happy now that he couldn't care about anything else. He rushed towards his father and made the final confirmation: "Is it really mine? Is that pony really mine?"

"Yes, yes, it's yours, it's for you."

"That's great, Dad, that's great, can I raise him by myself?"

"Of course, your horse is your decision."

"Thank you, Dad, I love you, I will always love you."...

Roger brought his attention back to reality. His horse had finished its dinner and drank some water. It should have rested, but it didn't. It came close to Roger and rubbed its head against him, so Roger stroked him.

Its mane, the "gift", became comfortable and it fell asleep obediently. Roger saw the pony hanging its head and stopped moving, knowing that it had fallen asleep and it was time for him to leave, but the memory came back again...

"Young Master, this is not how horses are raised." The groom relied on his experience and qualifications to try to educate Roger.

But how could Roger, who was used to being overbearing, listen to him: "I make the decision about my horse, and my father agreed to it."

"But, but," the groom wanted to insist, "how can a horse be raised like this?"

Roger really didn’t know how to raise horses. He had never raised a horse in this life or in his previous life, but how could he bow to the groom? He thought, I have never raised horses, but I have raised dogs. They seem to be bigger animals.

The better my brain is, I don’t believe that with my experience in raising huskies in my previous life, I can’t raise horses well. So he insisted: “That’s how I will raise them.”

How could the groom reason with the young master who was favored by the earl? Therefore, Roger's pony has been different from other horses in the stable since he was a child. It is not tied and can walk freely. It does not eat the food given by others.

Roger had to feed him all the food he wanted. He had a surly character and did whatever he wanted, just like his master. Of course, this also caused him a lot of trouble, but even if he suffered a loss, he would not change...
Chapter completed!