Lina stumbled from the cave in a daze, clutching at a gaping wound in her abdomen and reaching for another arrow that stuck out of her shoulder. She had gone in expecting bandits, that much wasn't up for debate...but the ambush had caught her embarrassingly off-guard, as had the chief's greatsword hitting her square in the stomach.
“Damn it all...!” she hissed through gritted teeth, looking back over her shoulder as the shouts grew louder. Her father had always been firmly against the idea of fleeing, and it had rubbed off on her over the years—but the pain of staying would far outweigh the pain of running. “Jalo! Jalo!” Her horse's ears pricked up at the sound of her name, and she trotted to the Nord's side, whickering anxiously as the bandits grew near. Lina pulled herself into the saddle with blood-stained hands, groaning all the while, and instantly dug her heels into the steed's sides. Jalo burst into a gallop obediently, carrying her wounded master as far from the scene as her hooves could handle.
When she slowed again, Lina looked around, trying to ignore the dizziness that continued to build and blur her vision. She had seen these hills before, she knew that much...but from where?
She eased the horse forward, wincing with each movement, and looked back down at her torn armor. The bleeding was slowing down, at least, and it looked like it hadn't stained Jalo's saddle. She shifted a bit now, a pang in her shoulder reminded her of the arrow that still lay there.
“Gods damn it,” she whispered, pulling her horse to a stop. She needed to deal with that, before moving any more ripped her skin. Closing her eyes and biting her lip, she tightened her hand around the shaft, and pulled hard.
Despite her best efforts, she screamed when the arrow was freed. If there had been any question about the damage before, it was certainly gone now. Jalo's ears folded against her head at the sound, and she hurried forward in her fright, leaving Lina to collapse on her neck and hang on for her life.
As her vision finally clouded, she could still make out the tiny shapes of roofs getting closer. A town, she realized with a rush of relief. It was no small miracle.
“Jalo,” she said hoarsely, urging the mare forward once more. “There...take me there...”
“Erik,” Ennis said sharply, looking up from the fence he was repairing. “Are you almost finished with that wheat?” The younger man, who had been struggling with the last bale, looked up with a bashful smile.
“The wheat? Ah...yes, Ennis. Just...finishing up here, then I'll bring it in.” His part-time employer looked down again with a shrug.
“Good, good. I'll pay you when you're finished,” he muttered, too focused on his task to hear the rush of hooves. The redhead, however, looked up, only for his eyes to widen and his jaw to drop.
A blood-stained horse was trotting towards them, eyes white with terror and ears against the top of its head. In the saddle, an equally bloody woman lay motionless, her arms hanging limply around the horse's neck. Erik hurdled the fence in his rush to get to them, grabbing Ennis' attention as he did. The farmer looked up, his confusion instantly turning to shock as he took in the sight.
“What in Oblivion happened here?” he asked, watching Erik grab the loose reins and stroke the horse's head.
“Steady, steady,” he soothed, until the steed was quiet and still. “Ennis! There's someone on its back! She's breathing!” He took in the unconscious Nord's face, his own lined with concern, and began to lead the horse forward cautiously as Ennis dashed up.
“By the gods, she's a mess,” he sighed, staring at her. “Do you suppose your father can clean her up?”
“I'm sure someone can,” Erik replied quickly. “Let's move.”
Erik/F!DB: "Many Thanks" 1/?
“Damn it all...!” she hissed through gritted teeth, looking back over her shoulder as the shouts grew louder. Her father had always been firmly against the idea of fleeing, and it had rubbed off on her over the years—but the pain of staying would far outweigh the pain of running. “Jalo! Jalo!” Her horse's ears pricked up at the sound of her name, and she trotted to the Nord's side, whickering anxiously as the bandits grew near. Lina pulled herself into the saddle with blood-stained hands, groaning all the while, and instantly dug her heels into the steed's sides. Jalo burst into a gallop obediently, carrying her wounded master as far from the scene as her hooves could handle.
When she slowed again, Lina looked around, trying to ignore the dizziness that continued to build and blur her vision. She had seen these hills before, she knew that much...but from where?
She eased the horse forward, wincing with each movement, and looked back down at her torn armor. The bleeding was slowing down, at least, and it looked like it hadn't stained Jalo's saddle. She shifted a bit now, a pang in her shoulder reminded her of the arrow that still lay there.
“Gods damn it,” she whispered, pulling her horse to a stop. She needed to deal with that, before moving any more ripped her skin. Closing her eyes and biting her lip, she tightened her hand around the shaft, and pulled hard.
Despite her best efforts, she screamed when the arrow was freed. If there had been any question about the damage before, it was certainly gone now. Jalo's ears folded against her head at the sound, and she hurried forward in her fright, leaving Lina to collapse on her neck and hang on for her life.
As her vision finally clouded, she could still make out the tiny shapes of roofs getting closer. A town, she realized with a rush of relief. It was no small miracle.
“Jalo,” she said hoarsely, urging the mare forward once more. “There...take me there...”
“Erik,” Ennis said sharply, looking up from the fence he was repairing. “Are you almost finished with that wheat?” The younger man, who had been struggling with the last bale, looked up with a bashful smile.
“The wheat? Ah...yes, Ennis. Just...finishing up here, then I'll bring it in.” His part-time employer looked down again with a shrug.
“Good, good. I'll pay you when you're finished,” he muttered, too focused on his task to hear the rush of hooves. The redhead, however, looked up, only for his eyes to widen and his jaw to drop.
A blood-stained horse was trotting towards them, eyes white with terror and ears against the top of its head. In the saddle, an equally bloody woman lay motionless, her arms hanging limply around the horse's neck. Erik hurdled the fence in his rush to get to them, grabbing Ennis' attention as he did. The farmer looked up, his confusion instantly turning to shock as he took in the sight.
“What in Oblivion happened here?” he asked, watching Erik grab the loose reins and stroke the horse's head.
“Steady, steady,” he soothed, until the steed was quiet and still. “Ennis! There's someone on its back! She's breathing!” He took in the unconscious Nord's face, his own lined with concern, and began to lead the horse forward cautiously as Ennis dashed up.
“By the gods, she's a mess,” he sighed, staring at her. “Do you suppose your father can clean her up?”
“I'm sure someone can,” Erik replied quickly. “Let's move.”