Owen scrubbed his face with his hands. "No, Fox, you stay here," he stabbed a finger at the ground. His glare would have made a pissed off rattler pick up his luggage and pack off, but the chestnut mare just pinned back her ears and bared her teeth at him.

Owen ran a hand through his hair, forgetting the careful style he'd paid more then he thought fair for. He wasn't a fussy man; short was all he asked for when he went to the barber's. But, he'd figured that visiting the High Court of Pruul called for something a little more classy then his usual sweat-and-windblown look.

He narrowed his eyes at the mare. She had the temperament of a rattler, and that was the plain truth. Her mama'd been his best roping horse, but when some high-falutin' dandy had got caught in a little rain and stayed the night at the ranch, turned out his horse was a kindred stallion, and had taken a liking to Dancer. He'd ended up losing Dancer in the birth; stupid filly'd decided to come out into the world bass-ackwards, but Fox was an even better horse then her mother. She was more then a horse; she was a friend.

Of course, she was a pain in the ass, too. She'd taken one look at the Keep, and made up her little horsey mind that he was going no where in there without her. What there was to fear in the Keep was beyond Owen. Maybe she was just jealous he was visiting another female. Fox could be like that.

Because he knew he'd get no where arguing with her, Owen looked away, as if thinking it over. Then, quick as thought, he snagged he trailing reins and looped then over a particularly sturdy-looking post. Fox stared at him on shock. Owen stepped smartly out of hoof-range and shrugged. "You ain't comin' with me. Now stay." He pointed at her, then turned his back to saunter up to the front door.

His first couple knocks were accompanied by the mare's outraged squeal.