The next few days passed most agreeably for the three, starting with Ruth’s assurances about the Harper’s continued improvement. The first morning, noticing that Stupid had cropped all the ground greens in the area, Piemur asked if there was any grassland nearby. So Jaxon and Piemur flew Ruth to the river meadows that lay south and east of the cove, a good hour’s flying inland. Ruth willingly helped harvest the tall waving grain grasses which Piemur pronounced fine fodder that might even put poor Stupid into condition. Ruth told Jaxom that he’d ever seen such a hungry-looking runner.
“We’re not fattening him up for you,” Jaxom said, laughing.
He is Piemur’s friend. Piemur is my friend. I do not eat the friends of friends.
The White Dragon by Anne McCaffrey
Unapologetically Nerdy 