<div class="floatleft">(http://i1254.photobucket.com/albums/hh605/JennyFive69/Nicholas_zps4294728d.jpg)</div>Nicholas could barely withstand his anxiety as he took his place at the table, waiting for the proper protocol to go on. All stallions had dressed themselves up - in most farmlands, they would eat in a separate room, not at all close to the farmer's family, but in Michael's house, all were rather intimate, friendly to each other. It was unusual, but not as unusual. He had heard that at the Hanson's there was a Bull instead of Stallions working as farmhands. A single Bull. He did not know, and few could ever know what sort of dynamic existed between the Black Bull, Eric, and farmer Hanson's wife and daughters.<br/><br/>He did not think of them, though, but of dressing up his shirt, washing his hands and face, and then sitting down properly while Roman and the others joined them, chit-chatting about the work on the coming day, of the work they had just done. The meal was delicious - as any would be for someone starving after working all day long under the sun. But Michael's wife did have a fine hand at cooking. For a moment Nicholas laid his troubles aside - the meal was good, the company enjoyable, but his eyes kept wandering towards the blonde girl. He blushed whenever she looked back at her eyes met his.<br/><br/>Just as they excused themselves from the table, he returned to his room, closed the door, and escaped through the bay's window to make his way swiftly through the other side of the field, unseen, to reach the Hanson's Brook.<br/>