“Poor Shasta！” said Aravis. “Has he far to go？ Will he getthere first？”
“There is good hope of it，” said the old man.
Aravis lay down again （on her side this time） and said， “Have I been asleep for a long time？ It seems to be getting dark.”
The Hermit was looking out of the only window， which faced north. “This is not the darkness of night，” he said presently. “The clouds are falling down from Stormness Head. Our foul weather always comes from there in these parts. There will be thick fog tonight.”
Next day， except for her sore back， Aravis felt so well that after breakfast （which was porridge and cream） the Hermit said she could get up. And of course she at once went out to speak to the Horses. The weather had changed and the whole of that green enclosure was filled， like a great greencup， with sunlight. It was a very peaceful place， lonely and quiet.
Hwin at once trotted across to Aravis and gave her a horse.kiss.
“But where‘s Bree？” said Aravis when each had asked after the other’s health and sleep.
“Over there，” said Hwin， pointing with her nose to the far side of the circle. “And I wish you‘d come and talk to him. There’s something wrong， I can‘t get a word out of him.”
