Lottie nearly cried with relief when Idun found the lever to drop the plow. As it was, her new best friend got a very enthusiastic, albeit brief, hug in thanks while the horse looked on in a bemused fashion. This was certainly not the way he'd plowed fields before.
But she rolled her eyes slightly when Idun said she didn't want to mention anything because they'd been busy before. They were busy now! France wasn't saved yet. Philotes just had to smile at what Idun considered “busy.” Next time, they'd have to work on a genuine emergency or maybe an apocalypse, just so Idun could feel like they really accomplished something.
“I'm pretty sure it's the chipmunk,” she told the Norse goddess. “I think he crawled back into my skirt. At least that's what I keep telling myself. I don't really want to think about the alternatives. Let's plow.”
Lottie moved to stand behind the blade, nodding to Idun to lead the horse. He seemed to like her better anyway. She grasped the handles of the plow. “At least one furrow, two if we can manage it in time. Three would be best, but I don't think we're gonna be able to do that. We're going to have to go inside the treeline a ways, so the trees don't catch fire and I don't think he'll like that so try to keep him calm, alright?”
With that, Lottie gave a little flick of the reigns against the horse's rump to set him in motion and hoped really hard that they could actually manage to plow. She'd seen it done before. A couple of times. She just hadn't ever had the occasion to attempt it. Until now.