Nimue turned to the giant horse, black as jet and as fractious as the Mother's Underworld. She held aloft yet another of the small crisp apples and he lipped it from her open palm. While he crunched, she pet his nose, velvety and warm.<br/><br/>"I can take you are far as the monastery grounds, but the monks frown on women in general and we who hold the old gods in esteem even more so. " she answered, careful not to turn around to look at him, lest she see the same contempt the so called holy men had. "They often say we are witches because our herbs heal the suffering of the village folk. The merry monks insist it is the predestined will of the Man/God that the poor suffer and the rich live in luxury."<br/><br/>Nimue found another itchy spot on the stallion's forehead to which she ministered with vigor.<br/>"The monks believe that all women, rich or poor, should suffer in childbirth and submit to husbandly beatings to pay for the transgression of Eve for eating," She whipped around and smiled wickedly, "An apple!"<br/><br/>"It is sorry that I am for your need to depart so soon. You say your quest has led you here and that it will be soon dispatched. What pray kind sir, is your quest. Perhaps, I might be of some assistance or perhaps the Lady in the Lake, Vivianne, could bring good fortune your way, freeing you through success."<br/><br/>The horse, as if possessed with a mind of his own, nudged Nimue in the back. She was light and the horse strong so she found herself tangled in the arms of the knight, Maric.