The Warlock Insane

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"Yeah, but you don't have to shovel it!"

"Oh, come, husband." Gwen tightened her grip on his arm, mouth pursed in amusement. " Tis beautiful by moonlight, naetheless. And thou hast no need to clear it by main force, in any event."

Rod smiled, watching the kids frolic up ahead, carefully avoiding the well-cleared road and slogging through the snowbanks, where they could get nice and wet. Geoffrey had started a snowball fight, and Magnus was retaliating with enthusiasm.

"Gregory's trying, anyway."

"He is merely distracted by watching the snowballs' trajectories, Rod, instead of their targets." The voice of the great black horse behind him sounded through the earphone implanted in his mastoid process. "He is a son to be proud of."

"Yes. He certainly is, Fess—he certainly is." Rod smiled down into Gwen's eyes, and she radiated back up at him. "They all are—each in his own way." He looked up with a sparkle of mischief in his eye. "Or hers."

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