To this， Hwin made no answer， being， like most highly bred mares， a very nervous and gentle person who was easily put down. In reality she was quite right， and if Bree had had a Tarkaan on his back at that moment to make him go on， he would have found that he was good for several hours’ hard going. But one of the worst results of being a slave and being forced to do things is that when there is no one to force you any more you find you have almost lost the power of forcing yourself.
So they had to wait while Bree had a snack and a drink， and of course Hwin and the children had a snack and a drink too. It must have been nearly eleven o‘clock in the morning before they finally got going again. And even then Bree took things much more gently than yesterday. It was really Hwin， though she was the weaker and more tired of the two， who set the pace.
The valley itself， with its brown， cool river， and grass and moss and wild flowers and rhododendrons， was such a pleasant place that it made you want to ride slowly.
The Hermit Of The Southern March
