" How did you find me?”
He unclenched his jaw to answer. “When Wheatgerm returned to the stables, I followed her tracks until they disappeared. And then I heard someone bellowing nonsense, and I knew it must be you.”
“Who the blazes is Wheatgerm?”
“The horse you stole from the abbey,” he said as if talking to a simpleton.
“You mean Butter. And I didn’t steal her. I borrowed her. I take it she’s safe?”
“Cold and tired, but safe in the stables eating like she’s half starved. Which she probably is, thanks to you. And her name isn’t Butter.”
“It is now.”
“She’s not yours to name.”
“She’s mine in spirit now that we’ve had an adventure together. And her name suits her. She’s soft and yellow, like butter.”
He made a disgusted sound. “If we all had names to suit us, you’d be called Thorn in My Backside. Or Plague of the Gods.”
I prickled at his scathing tone. “And you’d be Miserable Blockhead.”
“Is that the best you can do?”
“Give me time. I’m half frozen. "

― Elly Blake , Frostblood (Frostblood Saga, #1)