WESSEX
She’s never seen a horse like that before. They’ve only got the little shaggy ponies, the kind that can carry and carry and carry and endure winters and famines. The hardy kind. This guy - fuck - he’s beautiful. And how lucky is he, that Wessex is returning to the Ground just now? Otherwise he might be lost to the bears (the Ursurs, the book had said?) or the Giants, or the natives of this land. Dinner. A beast of burden. She shakes her head disdainfully. No, this beautifully wrought beast couldn’t be lost to the snowy expanses of Halo. It technically belongs to Neron… but what the Warden doesn’t know won’t kill him.
Out of the blinding white outside comes the bare-skinned woman - looking more like she’s armed for a fight than anything else. Her hands go up as if to placate the horse, lowering her voice to a soothing volume and talking sweetly, imitating Rory as he talks to his ponies.
“Hey there, big boy… where’d you come from, huh?”
The woman advances slowly and cautiously, wishing she had something edible to offer the creature, who must be cold and hungry and perhaps very, very confused.
“It’s all right… I’m not going to hurt you.”
Her hands extend further - devoid of both food and weapons - to offer herself peacefully to the stallion, hoping he'll do some snuffling and whuffling and maybe, just... stay put long enough for her to figure out what to do with him and how to get him home.
No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all
