Eskil woke to the slow rhythm of rocking in the saddle at a gentle walk. He slowly opened his eyes, squinting at the blinding afternoon light. He looked around, trying to figure out his whereabouts. He was riding his horse who was lazily walking and following Libelle's stallion. His wrists were bound with cloth and he was tied to the saddle horn. His head was throbbing and his lip stung as he licked over a small cut. He stretched his neck and looked at Libelle, who had either not realized he had woken up or was choosing to ignore him.
Her hair was tied up in a loose bun on the top of her head, but several long strands were still floating in the breeze. She was wearing her long ebony colored leather jacket, the sleeves covering her arms and wrists. He couldn't see her expression, but she was riding comfortably in her saddle while munching on a thin slice of bread.
The sun was high in the sky, indicating it was early afternoon. The sky was bright blue with only a few clouds floating above. There were dark clouds to the west, indicating that rain would be coming later in the evening. They were riding through a dense forest and traveling downhill. He could hear a variety of birds chirping around them but could not see them. Several deer grazed by a small stream and as they passed by, their heads shot up and their alert ears faced forward. In seconds, they were darting across the stream into the safety of the forest.
They approached a cross in the road where Libelle paused to read scribbled words on rotting wooden posts. She stared for a moment, then looked left and turned her horse down the stone path. She glanced up at the sky with narrowed eyes before clicking her tongue to speed her horse up to a trot. His followed suit, clumsily plodding along behind her smoother moving horse.
He grunted, "Where are you taking me now, Libby?"
She glanced back at him. "Oh, you're awake now are you? Enjoy your rest?"
He forced a sarcastic smile at her. "I would have enjoyed it more if my head wasn't pounding like I'd been struck by a falling boulder."
She snorted at him but that was it. Her eyes were tired with dark circles beneath them from being awake the entire night. She wanted to sleep herself but they didn't have the time. The sky to the west was growing darker with thick storm clouds, the air was cooling, and the breeze had been increasing in speed throughout the morning. By midafternoon, they would be caught in a heavy downpour. The way the air was crackling with the incoming storm, it was bound to be a bad one. There was an inn nearby and she wanted to reach it before the rain started, but they only had maybe two or three hours before they'd be in the middle of a downpour. The inn was out of their way, but it was better than being out in the open in a storm.
She heard Eskil grumble a curse behind her, and glancing back, she saw him picking at the cloth binding around his wrists. She mentally laughed, enjoying the fact that he wasn't enjoying himself. She looked him up and down, his feet dangling near the stirrups and his wrists tied to the saddle. His tanned skin revealed his flexing muscles in his arms as he argued with the crafty and skilled knot. His thick brows were narrowed and his square jawline was taut as he fidgeted with the knot. His black shoulder-length hair was floating in his face and blocking his vision with each gust of wind. She looked up at the horns protruding from his head with a frown; she needed to hide those before they reached the inn. Most innkeepers would think he's some sort of devil and turn them away, even if she had the coin.
Libelle reached behind her, rummaging through her saddlebags. She knew she had a hooded cloak stuffed in one of them, but where was it? She rarely wore it, but she swore she had brought it with her. She pulled out a few tonics from the bag, then smiled when she found the cloak stuffed in the bottom.
She slowed her horse and steered it towards his, leaned over and started to cut his bonds with her dagger. Eskil glared up at her with a streak of blood on his brow and lip. She handed him the cloak, but he simply stared at it.
"Put that on," she said.
He grumbled but unfolded the wool material and released the steel clasp before wrapping the long cloak around his shoulders. "Why must I wear this?"
"There is a storm coming."
He rolled his eyes with a grumble. "I do not fear the rain, Libby."
"I assumed that. We are going to an inn for the night. It is several miles from here, but I am hoping to reach it before the storm arrives."
Humph. "To me it sounds like you're afraid of the rain."
She ground her teeth together. "Not afraid of it, but I don't see any pleasure coming from spending the entire night exposed to a storm. Especially after last night."
He shrugged. "I suppose that makes sense. But it still does not answer why I need to wear," he lifted the material and scowled at it, "whatever this thing is. It smells awful."
Libelle laughed at his expression. "It has been stuffed in my saddlebag for weeks. Of course it doesn't smell good. You need to wear it while in public at the inn, otherwise the innkeeper may turn us away. I'd very much like to be sleeping in a dry bed with the upcoming weather."
He snickered. "So if I don't wear it, we will be turned away?"
"If you don't wear it, you can sleep in the barn with the livestock. I will enjoy a warm, dry bed, a hot meal by the fire, and I can listen to the bards play."
That didn't sound pleasant to him in any way. If he were not bound to her in this situation, he would gladly find a large cave to rest in. Instead, he was stuck in this frail body. He grumbled and lifted the hood over his head, hiding his horns beneath it. The material was low over his face and blocking part of his vision, so he lifted it again and adjusted it so he could see clearly.
Libelle spoke over her shoulder to him. "We should reach the inn shortly. It's down this path and a few miles to the south."
She hoped they would reach it before the storm arrived. Libelle clicked her tongue again, urging her horse forward to a slow trot before her heels tapped its sides and it moved into a canter. He gripped his horse's reins as it lurched forward to keep up with her stallion.