Winter nights came early.
Roman had just stepped out when he saw Gwivelle playing in the manor's open space.
"Gwivelle, come here."
The little witch was playing on the grass with her donkey, who was springing about energetically, and she bounded over in the same lively manner.
Roman looked at her complexion, then at the donkey, who was glossy, healthy, and spirited, and asked, "Did you secretly bless Ami again?"
"No, I didn't." Gwivelle said guiltily.
She was somewhat willful, but Roman felt she was still within the bounds of tolerance.
After all, one donkey wasn't much.
Roman simply reminded her, "Your power is very precious."
But it should be fine to spare a little for the donkey, Gwivelle thought; the donkey was only a few months old.
She had even blessed some young calves, foals, piglets, lambs, and chicks not long ago.
Each of these young animals had been carefully selected by Roman.
