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Athwen had wept. The tears had come silently, quick, and unstoppable. She didn’t know why. She hadn’t known him for real. She had been acquainted with him for a couple days, but that was all. . .nothing past a common acquaintance.
And now, as they waited until they could continue, the tears were dried, but a deep, heavy sadness settled over her like a wet cape. She couldn’t shake it and it weighed her down until she felt like she wanted to cry again, just to relieve herself of the pressure. But she didn’t. She drew a shuddering breath instead, rose to her feet and went to her horse.
‘I don’t know how long it will be until we leave, lad,’ she said, running her hand up his neck and then placing it on his head. He looked at her and allowed her to put both her arms around his face, cradling him near her chest. ‘I want to ride you now,’ she whispered. ‘I want to run. Gallop. Flee all this.’ She glanced over her shoulder and watched for a moment as Leod dealt out care to one of the wounded. ‘Maybe we can.’ She let her arms drop and then went for his saddle and blankets. She had him saddled in a matter of minutes. ‘They won’t be ready for some time now,’ she told herself as she tightened the girth and turned the stirrup back down. ‘I’ll hardly be missed. Everything is already packed up. All that needs to be done is preparing the horses. I’ll be back by the time they’re finished. . .’ She held the bridle in her hand and slipped the bit into Parith’s mouth. ‘We’ll go for a short run, lad, down at the bottom of the hill.’
Without looking behind her for fear of someone catching her eyes and asking questions, Athwen began to lead Parith out from beneath the trees. She would mount him in the open and then ride back down the hill. There was a straight place beneath, long enough to enjoy the run, but not so long that Parith would loose his breath or become tired in the sprint. She ached to feel the wind of speed in her face. That, at least, would be just like it used to be.
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