The Chronicle of the Worthy Son

Red

Wander was like a squall trapped inside a four-legged skin. While Able could conceive of the mechanics that allowed the horse to storm through the trees as he did, the knowledge was not enough to quiet the terror of being atop him as he did so. The thunder of his hooves swallowed up every other sound in the woodland, the headlong pitches of his stride chewed up the horizon.

Able kept his grip locked around Lark's waist and his cheek pressed to the back of his platelet coat. He could not conceive of the mechanics that allowed Lark to frequently reach a hand back to check Able's balance, but the horror of it froze all attempts to tell the Shadow to hold onto the horse in his throat.

Instead, he nestled himself against the two backs to catch as much of their heat as he could, for the wind was pulling most of his away. Seemed it blew a lot of the water away too, as Able was somewhat dry by the time Lark pulled the stallion to a slow. The beast threw his head before settling into a walk, blowing loudly.

"I prefer the ponies," Able announced with certainty.

Lark laughed. "You need to build up some tolerance for getting your blood flowing, you stiff!"

"That is perhaps fair." Able tried to unclench his grip, but from fear or exhaustion or chill his fingers were not obeying.

"We're pretty close now if you want to get down and walk."

"I do want to, but I am not sure I can—"Able hissed half in surprise and half in pain when Lark touched his knee.

"Ngh, looks like you did get it pretty bad."

"Can you—" Able was about to say "stop touching me," but when he met Lark's eye over Lark's shoulder he gentled it to. "...not do that?"

"Yeah, I can." Lark nodded then faced front again. "And I'm cooling Wander down anyway, so you can sit tight a few more minutes, yeah? Shouldn't be more than ten."

"It's fine." Able finally worked his fingers loose but had nowhere safer to put them so he only shifted his grip and sighed.

"You can lean on me," Lark offered softly. "I don't mind."

Able did mind. Minded too much and also not enough. But this hesitation was pointless, so he let his head down against Lark's shoulder and closed his eyes. How were the metal plates so warm? Then again, he could smell the sweat wafting off Lark's neck. And that was also how each inhale reminded him this was a safe place to rest. He'd done it before.

The horse shifted back into a halt and snorted. Able tightened his grip again and struggled upright to wakefulness.

"What did I tell you?" hissed an angry woman's voice.

"He's not going to be any trouble, I swear," Lark replied as he worked the reins back and forth to settle the stamping horse. "Tanner arrested him for trying to stop the inferno, just like the rest of them, okay?" How did he know that? Educated guess? "Wasn't leaving him behind."

A woman stalked around the horse and peered up at them. She wore a combat suit of near-black with a sheen of green. She frowned and shook her head. "Get him out of here, or I will."

"Don't you touch him," Lark snapped. "And I'm not taking him anywhere. He needs food and rest." At this, Lark looked over his shoulder at Able and said, "Let's get you down, okay?" in the exact same tone he had used to introduce Able to his horse.

Able was concerned he seemed to think it equally appropriate for introducing his assassin but had not formulated a response before Lark shifted and hopped to the ground, leaving Able with little choice but to accept a hand down. He discovered he had feeling in his feet again and that they were sore.