Torran leaned toward her as she adjusted the saddlebags over her shoulder. "I didn't want to sound like I was trying to bribe you, so I didn't mention it earlier. But you do get a horse by coming with me." He gestured to the stable nextdoor to his bay's. "It's one of my spares, but I'm giving it to you now. I'll take care of the supplies, you just have to take care of it."

Idelle could barely breathe as she walked past him and peered into the stable. In the back, a piebald gelding nibbled at straw and glanced up at her as she entered his stable. His ears flicked forward, following her movement. She had thought Torran's horse majestic, but this horse felt different. This was her horse, and he seemed all the more beautiful for it. His black and white hide glistened and reflected the lamplight as if it was a pond of water, and when he stamped his hoof on the ground his muscles rippled underneath, ready to run and jump and fight.

Idelle inched forward, pressing her hand to his neck. He didn't move, but watched her warily with large brown eyes. She ran her fingers down his neck and then down his muzzle, letting him get used to her touch. Torran appeared at the front of the stable, the corners of his lips turned up. He held out a few slices of carrots, and Idelle fed them to her horse. He accepted them greedily and nudged her hand for more.

"You'll have to watch out because he's a pig," Torran said. "If you have any food where he can get it, rest assured it will be in his stomach before you even know it."

"He can eat whatever he wants when he's with me," Idelle said, still too in awe to even think about saddling him up. Torran had to remind her, walking into the stable and lifting the black leather saddle into place along with its deep blue blanket. As he wrapped the belt around, Idelle took the harness and reins and adjusted them over the horse's face.

When he was finished, Torran stood back up and patted the horse's side. "His name is Ffion. He and Lugh are two of our finest horses. They should get us far before we have to rest."

Never in her life did Idelle think she would be gifted a Bradcombe horse. Only the very richest ever got on the long waiting lists for a steed from the duchy, and yet here she stood without a cent to her name next to what Torran had described as one of the best he'd raised. It was if she was living in a dream.

Idelle smiled, taking the bridle firmly in hand. She barely paid attention as Torran exited to get Lugh, and instead cooed to Ffion as she led him out into the dark and drizzling rain. Even without the lamplight, she could still see his moon-white patches gleaming.

As they mounted up, saddlebags in place and a long journey in front of them, Torran led the way out of the fortifications and into Wynherst territory. They passed sentries and abandoned trenches, heading north toward Holmley. The capitol city of Wynherst was at least a week away, and the new queen was bound to be anxious. She had already endured a week without her brother, alone in the castle, and she would have to endure at least one more. Torran obviously felt this, as his shoulders tensed and he held his reins tight in his hands. Idelle knew it was partly from the pain in his leg, stiffly sent out to one side like a branch from a tree, but she knew it must also be sympathy for his cousin. If the men here felt the king's loss so keenly, how much worse would his sister feel it?

By the time the sun rose, they were cresting a hill at the back of the lines. It marked the end of the grazing fields and started the long acres of farmland and forests. Only a few peasants would still work these, though. Most had fled to the safety of more interior cities, to escape the ever-present threat of Glastonbex's magic.

Idelle turned in her saddle to look back over where they had come. From her vantage point, she could see almost the entirety of the trenches. They looked small and dark in the rising sun, like ant trails in the ground. Beyond them, the battlefield stretched scarred and pitted into the distance. Smoke rose from abandoned bonfires, the rain dousing them still, and bodies, yet to be recovered, lay like tree stumps in the grass and mud.

She had been fighting here for months now, and it felt strange to leave it behind. She'd come to view those fields as hers, and entrusting the other soldiers and commanders to keep them safe almost felt wrong. In her mind, she had lived and died to give those grazing fields and farm plots back to the peasants whose families had established them so many generations ago.

But now she was riding away, heading to Holmley and the queen. She only hoped that it would not be a mistake, leaving her battlefield behind. She ducked her head, the rising sun to her side, and followed Torran down the hill and into Wynherst.

########

By the third day, they still hadn't even made it halfway between Avonford and Holmley. They'd expected to switch out their horses to be able to ride through the nights, but at the first checkpoint they were told there were none to spare. Torran had inquired after it, and found out that the battle at Avonford was not the only one currently waging. Apparently, fire mages had attacked from the east, illegally sneaking through the neighboring country of Essenkirk and into Wynherst, thus surprising the troops who were waiting to relieve the men down south. Though Glastonbex had no direct border with Wynherst in the east, they were apparently not above cutting through neutral countries and usurping their borders.

This meant that any nearby checkpoints had been forced to release their extra supplies to the surprised troops to the east, leaving Torran and Idelle with no refreshments on their way to Holmley. This slowed them to what they could accomplish with the horses they started on, which meant no hard riding.

They were only in the county of Kylekeld, still five days from Holmley, when Torran decided to set up camp for the whole night instead of their usual routine of breaking every few hours to put a few miles behind them.

"I thought you wanted to get to the city as soon as possible," she said, but Torran was already pulling Lugh to a stop in a path of green grass a few yards away from the main road.

"We can push through tomorrow night without any rests," he said. "We'll just ride slower so the horses don't get exhausted."

"That's hardly a good trade off, sir," Idelle said, but Torran ignored her. After three days with him, she was beginning to see that might be a pattern. She suddenly felt sorry for Sir Hewe and the other commanders who had had to wrangle him in for so long.

As she watched, he struggled to slide off Lugh. His injured leg, stiffened from the long ride, barely followed his commands, and Idelle almost dismounted to try and help him to the ground. Perhaps sensing her intentions, Torran braced himself and forcefully grabbed his leg, slinging it over the saddle so that he could jump down. She heard his muffled cry of pain, even though he was hidden behind Lugh's bulk. She thought she perhaps knew now why he had wanted to rest for the night.

She dismounted fluidly, leading Ffion over to take the reins of Lugh and pin them down under a sturdy boulder far enough away from their camp so that they would not be accidentally trampled by the horses. She sidled back over to where Torran plopped unceremoniously onto the ground, his injured leg thrown out in front of him. He'd be forced to abandon the splint only a few hours into the ride, and he'd been riding without one for days now. Idelle knew it wasn't good for the healing, but it was the only way to keep the speed up.

After dropping Torran's camping kit on his lap, Idelle walked a few feet away and laid out her blanket on the ground. They used their saddlebags for pillows, even if they were lumpy and almost as bad as the hard ground. It was a frigid night, and Idelle wished they had some straw or another blanket to put between them and the dirt. As it was, she felt the cold seep into her bones every night. A fire was out of the question this close to the border with Essenkirk. With the news of the surprise attack from the east, Idelle wasn't ready to risk open flames when scouts may be lurking anywhere around them. She especially didn't want to build something that would, in fact, help the Glastonbex scouts if they were fire mages.

So, she stared up at the stars and watched her breath fog above her in thick white clouds. To her side, she heard Torran hiss in pain as he laid out. She knew better than to ask him about his injury, as the first few times had earned her solemn assurances that he barely felt a thing anymore. Which was an obvious lie when she saw his pale face and wrinkled brow only get worse and worse with each passing hour. Yet, he didn't want to admit to her or perhaps even himself that he was in pain and barely hanging on. Idelle couldn't do anything about it, so she'd made up her mind to stop asking and just keep an eye out for when she thought he reached the point where they'd have to find help. 

Hopefully, that time would not come before they reached Holmley. 

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Author's note: 

Pronunciation guide for the horses! Lugh is pronounced like 'loo', and Ffion is pronounced like 'fee-on'. :)