ANotEntirelyWelcomeVisitSyndraAndEdlynSyndra drew up abreast of Edlyn and matched her pace, a fast walk, still muttering something under her breath. Edlyn could make out the word "pigheaded," but not much else. Syndra constantly scanned the forest warily as they rode. (OOC - It would take about thirty minutes via the cart trail to reach the Goose and Gander at a swift walk or a trot. Less than half that via the short cut) Edlyn turned in her saddle and suddenly gave a small, nervous grin. "He's a boy, isn't he?" "Mmm-hmm," Syndra nodded irritably. And Mother says he's .... " She broke off, as though deciding that this was something that shouldn't be shared with Syndra, and gave a little toss of her golden head. "Not that I would believe anything =she= says." Syndra regarded her curiously, but didn't press the point. She made sure that they were riding abreast, taking note of Syndra's scanning of the woods. After a moment, she leaned towards Syndra and said, "Can we canter for a bit, do you think. The track looks firm enough ... and I'm sure I can stay on this saddle if I'm careful." She had not asked what Syndra was worried about. Perhaps she would prefer not to know. "I'd prefer that, if you can manage it," Syndra answered, relieved. She urged her mare into a canter and looked back to be sure Edlyn was doing the same. "Yell if you have trouble," she called back protectively. Edlyn nodded, her pretty little face set with determination as she urged her horse forward too. She could canter it seemed, and for some five minutes they cantered apace, following the bends of the track easily. Then they say that the track up ahead was blocked by a log across the way - some fallen tree. Not high off the ground - it should be easy enough to jump, and a glance at Edlyn showed that she was riding cheerfully at it, prepared to put her horse across with no qualms. Then suddenly almost at the last minute, a dog sprang up on the log, a large, fierce dog and stood barking a threat at the approaching horses. Syndra's horse reared in alarm - while Edlyn horse skidded to such an abrupt halt that she went flying over its head and landed with a loud squlch in the mud. Syndra calmed her horse and allowed it to back up a few steps. "Edlyn, are you all right? If you can get back on your horse, do it. Move slowly and don't turn your back on the dog," Syndra instructed levelly, her eyes never leaving the dog. She readied her riding crop, the only weapon she had available, in case the dog struck. Edlyn scrambled to her feet, her face thunderous - and dripping mud everywhere. "Yes, of course I'm all right!" she snapped. "And if it hadn't been for that horrible Northern saddle, I wouldn't have come off anyway!" Syndra rolled her eyes. So much for concern. The dog growled. "Quiet, Whiteface!" said a young voice, and a boy of no more than fourteen appeared from behind the log. He was wearing the simple homespuns and leathers of an apprentice forester. Syndra recognised him as a Holdfast - not someone she knew by name. He knew her, however, and he grabbed Whiteface hastily. "I'm sorry, Mistress. We were just berrying in the forest ... and Whiteface - she's young, Mistress - heard a noise and ran off." Syndra smiled sympathetically and started to speak, but Edlyn cut her off. "In the Vale," said Edlyn icily, "you'd be whipped for letting your dog run "Edlyn, forget it!" Syndra hissed as she wheeled her own horse off the road. "Lead her back behind the berry thicket. NOW!" She looked over at the boy. "You too," she ordered. "Let the dog deal with him." Syndra guided her own horse to the spot she indicated and dismounted quickly. She held the reins tightly and stroked her mare's muzzle to keep her still, all the time watching the road warily. Edlyn, startled, seemed about to protest, but then thought better of it and led her horse behind the thicket - Syndra thought she heard Edlyn mutter something that sounded like, "Awful mud ... not like the Vale." But then she was silent too, nervously scanning the road. The boy needed no enocuragement - he dived straight behind the thicket calling out, "Sic 'em, Whiteface!" The horsebeats came closer - and then there was a rustle of leaves on the opposite side of the road as someone forced their way through furiously ... the three of the hidden in the thicket saw the horse almost explode from the bushes and then, as Whiteface sprang at him growling, they saw the red blood staining the left side of the rider and horse. "It's Godwyn - and he's hurt!" said Edlyn in shock. (Back to A Not Entirely Welcome Visit) Categories: WinterChillsGameLogs |
