Leonardo de Guzmán

The sun beat down on the dirt road. The air smelled of dust and freshly cut grass. Leonardo jerked the reins sharply as the cart stopped abruptly. A figure stepped in front of the horse; a woman with wind-tossed hair and a steady gaze, holding a basket that nearly fell to the ground.

“Does nobody teach manners in this valley?” he grumbled, getting off the horse in an irritated air. “You could have warned us before crossing the road.”

She looked at him without the slightest fear, with a defiant gleam. —“And you could learn to look before you speak.”

Leonardo raised an eyebrow. For a moment he seemed offended, but then a barely visible smile curved his lips. “Touché… I see that courtesy isn’t the custom around here. Although I must admit that character suits you well.”

—“I don’t need your approval, sir.”

“Nor do I have your permission to be impressed.”

For a moment, silence hung heavy between them. The horse snorted, the wind stirred the leaves, and Leonardo understood that, for the first time in a long time, someone had managed to disarm him with a single glance.

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