A wince as Imoen imagines getting kicked by a horse. After all the little and big ways adventuring has offered harm, she's still blissfully avoided the much more mundane harms of a mundane animal with hooves.

She looks at the sheep that Corrin in indicating, and tries imagining the hold. Maybe she doesn't need to be strong that way. Just plant her feet right, have the right angle -

"I'll try it," Imoen announces. "Worst thing that happens is I manage to get us both slightly trampled, yeah?"