Most of us long to "Be" but when the path gets too costly, or steep, we take solace in what we "Have." Remove the trappings of what we own, and then what is the sum of us?
They were the survivors, abandoned by the allies who swore to protect, in...
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Aran spent the remainder of that winter honing his riding skills. Fortunately all three of the horses were broken to saddle, and the fierce warrior took to riding them daily, choosing the freshest one to venture far from the camp. Along with Renard's well trained gelding there was a gray mare sporting Arabic blood who was very spirited, and a large bay hunter. Aran soon discovered the art of riding had some very welcome benefits, covering vast tracts of ground swiftly, discovering many new places that would have been unreachable in a day on foot. In fact he was able to journey so much further than the band had been in many years.
Just after the great conflict Bennett and Sven who had been fast friends prior to the war formed this rabid, mobile band, in order to ensure their survival, retreating to the less contaminated environs of the desert. The cities had fast deteriorated becoming difficult to survive in, disease, and radioactive contamination leveling all who clung to the old ways.
Sven being a trained soldier and Bennett a born leader were magnets to men like Gareth, Will, and many others who were no longer with them today. These like minded souls were very efficient at surviving in the new order. The tight knit band looted and raped to their heart's content for eighteen months or so but once the vehicles had exhausted the fuel supply and the warriors could plunder no more, raiding on foot had to become a way of life. Aran who was well under twenty then could remember it was a very difficult transition to make. There was much hardship, and infighting. They were very bad times.
Aran looked over his mount's head and he felt like the king of the world, he had grown accustomed to riding. He knew horses were rare and difficult to keep here, but if the men would encompass horsemanship the new mobility would serve them great advantages. He shook his shaggy head wondering why it had taken him this long to see this himself. In the past few weeks while the weather was cool and kind on the horses, Aran took advantage to scout every direction in a days ride making many pleasing discoveries.
One afternoon he stumbled on an oasis cradled in a rocky fissure otherwise invisible, burgeoning with fresh water fish, and plentiful game, and even better on subsequent outings, sighting various small settlements. The lazy spiraling smoke of their cooking fires giving them away to any passer-by. These he did not approach, but he noted their positions on the far horizon for later reference.
Besides these discoveries Aran learned to use a bow from horseback with frightening proficiency, never would he possess the uncanny skill of Renard, or the excellence of the agile Dwayne, but Aran still managed to bring down a fleeing boar or wild goat with ease. There was fresh game draped over his saddle pommel every evening on his return, easing the camp's dependence on the dwindling supplies. During those days spent up top Aran still found he was looking for the black horse, eyes searching the far horizon during his travels. But he never sighted the magnificent beast again, however the transformation the animal had wrought in the man was truly significant.
Thus the short desert winter passed. The cold easterlies and blustery south westerlies gave way to a warmer northern breeze. The wild flowers unfurled their last colors going to seed, casting their precious burdens to the wind or sands, that their offspring may again wait out the savage summer heat.
