This was one of those situations where you couldn’t reasonably say no. Caro Byrne was relatively patient, Esmé thought. He’d let her drag her feet for a while yet if she made the right sort of excuses. Her own shame was the greater motivator. They were just too few for the luxury of carting around a non combatant. If Ceren got hurt worrying about her …
Well. Esmé wouldn’t be able to pay that back, not on top of her other debts. So here she was, guiding Domino with her knees through a barren field. The pinto slowed every dozen or so steps to snuffle curiously at the wet ash and spiny grass. She watched the mage run up with an expression of muffled dread. Oh, she was going to hurt at the end of the day.
Caro passed the weapon up and she followed his instructions, insisting he repeat that bit about the cocking stirrup once or twice because it was funny. She took the little quiver of stout bolts with goose feather fletching and loaded one.
“You’ll help me pick all these back up, right?” She quipped at the top of Caro’s head and started Domino on the course. It had looked quite simple at first – just aim and shoot. In reality, she soon felt the strain in her shoulders and belly from the unfamiliar motion. Fatigue in her forearms from arming the string. When she ran out of bolts she returned to the start and climbed gingerly down. Stopped to feed her mount a lump of sugar – and wiped the traces of horse slobber on her saddle blanket.
Her first try seemed hardly worth remarking upon. Perhaps two of five shots grazed the targets and reloading was painfully slow. Esmé wrinkled her nose and shrugged at Caro, starting off on the long walk to retrieve the bolts.
“So how’d you learn to do all this and magic at the same time?”
Well. Esmé wouldn’t be able to pay that back, not on top of her other debts. So here she was, guiding Domino with her knees through a barren field. The pinto slowed every dozen or so steps to snuffle curiously at the wet ash and spiny grass. She watched the mage run up with an expression of muffled dread. Oh, she was going to hurt at the end of the day.
Caro passed the weapon up and she followed his instructions, insisting he repeat that bit about the cocking stirrup once or twice because it was funny. She took the little quiver of stout bolts with goose feather fletching and loaded one.
“You’ll help me pick all these back up, right?” She quipped at the top of Caro’s head and started Domino on the course. It had looked quite simple at first – just aim and shoot. In reality, she soon felt the strain in her shoulders and belly from the unfamiliar motion. Fatigue in her forearms from arming the string. When she ran out of bolts she returned to the start and climbed gingerly down. Stopped to feed her mount a lump of sugar – and wiped the traces of horse slobber on her saddle blanket.
Her first try seemed hardly worth remarking upon. Perhaps two of five shots grazed the targets and reloading was painfully slow. Esmé wrinkled her nose and shrugged at Caro, starting off on the long walk to retrieve the bolts.
“So how’d you learn to do all this and magic at the same time?”
04-05-2024, 08:39 PM
