Run fast for your mother, run fast for your father
The moment Biscuit shifted beneath them, Wren felt it everywhere. Quickly, and with a small nervous laugh, Wren slid her arms around Colt’s waist. The contact steadied her immediately, though her fingers still trembled with a mixture of nerves and excitement. Riding wasn’t like walking, and it certainly wasn’t like riding in a skyship where the motion stayed distant and removed beneath layers of wood and rope. Each step rolled through the horse’s body and into Wren’s legs, her hips, and her spine, until she felt like part of the movement whether she meant to be or not.
”This is different than I thought it would be.” she breathed softly as Biscuit took another few strides. Better, she almost said. The motion was strange but rhythmic, like learning a dance where the horse already knew the steps and she just had to follow along. The wind shifted against her face as they moved, carrying the warm scent of sun-touched grass and dust.
She was still smiling when a familiar blur bounded back toward them. Wren twisted slightly, careful not to upset her balance, watching Smooches zigzag triumphantly through the brush before rejoining them. “Oh good,” she murmured, “I was worried he might actually win the squirrel race.” Her gaze flicked back over Colt’s shoulder to their path ahead after a moment, curiosity rising easily now that the nerves had settled into something more manageable. “Is he your companion?” she asked. “Smooches, I mean.”
”This is different than I thought it would be.” she breathed softly as Biscuit took another few strides. Better, she almost said. The motion was strange but rhythmic, like learning a dance where the horse already knew the steps and she just had to follow along. The wind shifted against her face as they moved, carrying the warm scent of sun-touched grass and dust.
She was still smiling when a familiar blur bounded back toward them. Wren twisted slightly, careful not to upset her balance, watching Smooches zigzag triumphantly through the brush before rejoining them. “Oh good,” she murmured, “I was worried he might actually win the squirrel race.” Her gaze flicked back over Colt’s shoulder to their path ahead after a moment, curiosity rising easily now that the nerves had settled into something more manageable. “Is he your companion?” she asked. “Smooches, I mean.”
Wren
Run for your children, for your sisters and brothers
