A Storm is Brewing [R/M || ∞Infinity∞]

[Greed]

The heat was scorching. The way it rolled off his back and caused beads of sweat to crawl down her neck; the way the smoke lifted into the sky, making her eyes water to the point she almost couldn’t see at all. The only thing running through Nell’s mind was that she had to get Patriot out of the barn before he died in there. There was no way she was letting the now-full-grown stallion she’d raised from a colt to die in this. There was just no way. Nell wasn’t going to lose her best and only friend like that. The brunette looked behind her at the soot-covered face of her father who was yelling at her and waving his hands, telling her to get out of the barn. The back half of the building had already caught the contagious flames and Nell heard the terrible sound of the terrified horses that were caught up in the back of the barn. Snorts and hooves hitting wooden stalls were enough to break Nell’s heart, but only because she knew she couldn’t save them all. Hell, she could barely even make her way to one horse’s stall, how could she free the other thirty or so horses here?

Nell paused and stumbled towards the wooden edge of a stall, gripping to the wood until she felt splinters on her palm, coughing roughly into the crook of her arm. Wiping the sweat from her eyes, she moved forward until the familiar flicker of black ears was just in her line of sight. Thank God he’s okay, Nell thought as she jogged forward, coughing again and making sure to keep her head down. She untied the handkerchief from her neck as she untied Patriot, placing the piece of cloth over the horse’s nostrils as she tugged on the horse’s halter to direct him. The startled beast fought back until Nell gave an unforgiving tug and swatted the horse’s chest. “Git movin’, ya big lug,” Nell coughed out, shaking her head and keeping the handkerchief pressed firmly on the horse’s muzzle.

“Nell, move!” she heard her father’s stern voice yell. Her father never raised his voice. The man was gentle, caring, and soft-spoken, as it seemed most horsemen and women were. You could never be too loud and controlling with a horse, it just wasn’t right. Nell had, in all honesty, learned that the hard way with Patriot. The dang creature had bit her right in the arse once. Nell nodded and yanked Patriot into a trot, jogging alongside the roan-coated beast until the two of them had cleared the barn doors. Nell turned back after she’d moved Patriot and herself a safe distance away from the burned building. She removed the handkerchief from Patriot’s muzzle, and the horse bobbed his head, seemingly grateful for the lack of the scratchy cloth. Nell could relate. She didn’t like the handkerchief much, herself. The brunette let out a sigh of relief that turned into an ash-caused cough when she saw her father exiting the barn with a pretty chestnut mare heavy with foal. At least he’d managed to save one of the, God forgive her for saying it, more important horses. Her father jogged over with the mare, handing her the horse’s halter.

“I got to get back in there and get the other mare,” her father said, his tongue smoother than Nell’s – her father spent more time around the fancy upperclassmen, and he’d learned to polish up his speak. Nell had never bothered.

“Da, no! It’s gonna fall!” Nell shouted as hers father started back. She looked around for somewhere to tie the horses and go after her father to help him. Where was her mother, anyways? The brunette let out a cry of frustration. The mare snorted and tried to yank away, but her calloused hand kept her steady, “Whoa, girl, it’s gonna be okay,” she murmured, nudging her muzzle with her soot-covered forehead. She tapped her foot impatient as she stared into the barn, now visibly completely ablaze. The smoke clouded the entrance to the barn and she could hardly make out the shapes, and she could only barely hear the screeching neighs of the horses over the roar of the fire. When she saw the black shadows of two figures, her breath caught and a smile spread across her lips. However, the moment she heard the awful creaking of unstable wood the smile faded. Her eyes darted up to the top of the barn, seeing the roof caving in. Nell turned and swung up onto Patriot’s back, kicking the horse into action. The mare struggled to keep up, Nell struggling to keep a grip on her halter, as she forced Patriot to bolt forward, her eyes darting up every now and again to the roof. Just as she reached the entrance of the barn the roof caved, and sparks went flying. Patriot skidded to a halt on his own and reared, nearly sending Nell falling back, the halter yanking unforgivingly on the mare’s head.

“No!” Nell shouted, her voice cracking. Patriot circled, trying to move away from the fire, but Nell kept him in place with a firm hand on his mane and a tight squeeze with her legs on the horse’s barrel. Now the tears in her eyes were caused by heart-wrenching agony, not just the stinging sensation of the smoke. As the fire roared forward, Nell finally allowed Patriot to make a hasty retreat. Her eyes stayed glued to the burning building, hoping with all her heart the beams had fallen in front of them instead of on them…but she’d heard the crunch, and she’d heard her mother’s scream. A sob escaped her lips as she turned Patriot from the burning barn, spurring the horse into a smooth trot so the mare could keep up, not allowing herself to look back.

ˁ˟ˀ

Nell stirred lightly. A gentle breeze was ruffling her already-ruffled hair, sending the bangs in dire need of a trim into her face. It felt nice, even though it did…smell slightly funny. Nell jolted awake, her forehead instantly colliding with something soft and warm…and fuzzy? Nell fell back onto the scratchy hay she’d come to know as her ‘portable bed’ and looked up. A black muzzle hung low, breathing in Nell’s scent and whooshing it back out through flared nostrils. Snorting, Nell pushed the horse’s muzzle out of her face.

“Patriot, that ain’t the way to treat the one who feeds ya,” Nell said, pulling Patriot’s muzzle back down by his nostril and patting the fuzzy muzzle. “Good to see ya, though, buddy. Wish ya could help me muck out yer stalls. That’d be real nice.”

“Nell? Nell, where be yer sorry arse?”

Nell sat up again, rubbing her head, “Right here, Hadrian,” she replied, slowly getting to her feet with a grunt, cracking her back and neck.

“Yer late in gettin’ to work, Nell,” Hadrian scolded. The elderly man was hard to take seriously: blind in one eye, a stick always at the ready to whack Nell if need be, but it was mostly used to help the old man walk. Ever since their liveliest stallion Major had basically trampled over Hadrian’s left leg, the man had been unable to do the things with the horse’s he used to. He was already half-blind when Nell had come to work for him four years ago, but Major had done the old man in for the most part. Nell did ninety eight percent of the work. Hadrian de Grey, the famous horseman of their little town – the only horseman of their little town – worked on buying, selling, stud fees, and things like that. He also kept up connections with shodders, blacksmiths, people who made the horses’ tack, etcetera, etcetera. Good thing, too, because Nell almost couldn’t keep track of anything but horses and hay. Her talent with breaking and dealing with horses in general were pretty much her only truly redeeming qualities. Not necessarily wife material and not the most incredibly attractive woman around (although she’d look a hell of a lot better with a wash every now and again, though she rarely had the time to do so), the fact she was amazing with the God-given creatures was all she had, and that’s all she’d ever really needed.

A life – a quiet life – and good companions. Ones that didn’t talk back, and horses fit that bill perfectly.

“Sorry, Hadrian, I was asleep,” Nell explained, brushing the hay off of her pants. “I’ll git right on it. Promise.”

“Good kid,” Hadrian said, brandishing his walking stick at Nell in a non-threatening way. It was another day, another horse to saddle up and send away. Nell knew she had no control over current events, and the war wasn’t her fault, but she hated letting them go, especially when she knew the majority of the horses would never come back. They’d stay out there as corpses to feed vultures, and the thought enraged her. Perhaps it was because horses were her only companions aside from Hadrian, and she’d spent a good amount of time around these horses. She knew their habits, what they liked, what they didn’t like. She knew them. Like the back of her hand. And she felt guilty, horribly guilty, sending them away for war like this. She’d be no better sending them off for slaughter. Hadrian had the same feelings, she knew, but neither of them spoke on it. It wasn’t their position, and it Hadrian said it wasn’t even their right. ‘The kingdom comes first,’ Hadrian always said. Screw the kingdom, Nell thought. The kingdom wasn’t only slaughtering horses—it was slaughtering men. Nell pushed the thoughts out of her mind as she picked up a well-worn leather saddle from the tack room, holding it with both of her arms underneath it and taking it to Major’s stall. She hated to say it, but she’d be glad to get rid of this horse. Major was a pain, but he had been bred to be a warhorse. Strong and bold, he’d die, Nell knew, for the man who rode him. Assuming he liked the man who rode him—and Nell knew that was a miracle that would never happen.

She narrowly avoided being bitten by the beast as she put the saddle on his back, smacking his shoulder harshly, “I hate ya, y’know?” she grumbled, tightening the girth harder than she needed to just to show him who was boss. The gesture made the horse neigh loudly and stomp his hooves. Nell merely smirked. She finished tacking him up before leading him out of the stall, his being antsy, prancing as he walked. “Hate ya,” she repeated, tying him to a post outside the barn’s door. One of the king’s men would come and take him away sooner or later. She knew no one would steal him, either. In times like these? Stealing horses were the least of everyone’s concerns.

Nell’s day consisted mostly of doing this: tacking up horses and leading them outside. And every time she brought another few out, some horses were already gone. By the time afternoon rolled around, clouds were covering up the sun and Major and a handful of other horses had already been taken away, doubtless to never be seen again. Sighing, Nell decided to take a break, getting for herself a piece of almost-stale bread, going back to where she’d been sleeping earlier that morning and plopping down on the hay. Curious, Patriot stuck his head over the door and leaned down, sniffing at the bread in her hand. Nell smiled. “That’s mine.” Nell said, pulling her hand further away and throwing some straw into his face. Patriot snorted indignantly and went back into his stall, Nell ate her bread in silence, quite happy to wait a while before sending off any more horses to the slaughter. But, soon enough, Hadrian came rolling around again, threatening to whack her with his cane if she didn’t get back to work, and so she pulled herself up from her less-than-comfortable-but-peaceful place of rest and got back on her chores. Dismal and disappointed. Watching her life walk right out the doors of the barn. But what else was she to do?

[∞Infinity∞]

The wind blew in his face as young Patrick galloped his pony along the green meadow. His laughing was wild with excitement, as he rode on. It was his first fox hunt, and his tenth birthday. The day couldn't be better! He kicked at his Welsh's gray sides, hoping he would get a better horse for his birthday. He had outgrown the pony, and hated how round he was. He wanted a sleek horse. One that could carry him day and night across the grassy hills, chasing after hare, fox, and boar. Just then, the hounds went off. The Beagles set out with their tails straight in the air, and their short bellowing cries. The coon hounds though, were a spectacular sight. They ran quickly ahead, their tan coats shining in the noonday sun. Patrick laughed, and drummed on the sides of his pony. His father, the most powerful lord/ brother to the king, slowed to ride with his one and only son. He was very protective over Patrick. Patrick's mother, Geniveve, had died while giving birth to Patrick. The lord was saddened by her death, but had kept it hidden for Patrick's sake. He didn't want his son to miss his Mother anymore than he already did.


As the twenty or so riders raced through the hills, Patrick couldn't help but notice the peasants that came out to watch them. They were dirty, and dressed in rags. Patrick's smile dipped a little as he looked at his own fine clothes, and clean hands. But it soon returned as they slowed, and the hounds gathered in a tight circle around a little carcass. It was one of a young fox. It's bright flaring orange beautiful! Patrick pulled sharply at the panting pony's moth, and stopped along side the body. Patrick's father climbed down from his stout stallion, and picked up the body. He held it by the tale, and turned so the crowd of hunters could see it. "To Patrick!" His father yelled. The crowd cheered," To Patrick!" Then with eyes as bright as the blue sky itself, Patrick excepted his prize.

ஐ

When Patrick finally turned sixteen, he entered into the Calvary. He had grown into a fine young man. He was around 6'4, and muscular. He had sandy blonde hair, and dazzling sky blue eyes. His charming smile made women swoon all over. And finally, his best trait, next in line for the thrown. His sickly Uncle had never had any sons, only two daughters. So as the King's brother's son, Patrick was next. When he entered the army, this helped him greatly. Within the first month, he was moved from lieutenant, to general. A fine promotion, for a young man who had never even seen the battle field. Patrick though, felt unworthy. He tried to deny the promotion, but it was declined. It was said that the promotion came from the King himself. So Patrick stuck it out, giving commands to his once fellow Calvary men, and friends.

Three months after joining the army, The sixteenth Calvary had it's first battle. It was a small one, with only three casualties. The other side though, lost ten. Patrick, being commander, had led the charge, and had had three horses shot out from beneath him. Including his own, Starstruck, the black colt he had gotten after coming back from his first hunt. The stallion had been shot in the flank, and then stabbed through the lung with a spear. Patrick grieved for him, and missed him badly. It was so hard to find a good horse, and half the time you didn't want to, because he was going to die anyway.

Another year and a half later, Patrick turned eighteen. The boy was now a man. A battle hardened man. Patrick had endured twenty two battles. Thirty horses had been shot from beneath him, and he too, had been shot twice. Once in the thigh, and a week ago, in the shoulder. His last wound had just missed a major artery. If the bullet would have struck it, Patrick would either have died, or have last his arm. Both would have been a sad fate for the forth coming king. Now as Patrick rode into battle yet again, his throat burning with the yell coming from his mouth, he prayed that this wouldn't be his last. The shire underneath him quivered as a thunder of guns went off from the trees in front of them. Patrick felt the breeze from a bullet that just missed his ear. His voice cracked as another volley went off, and this time, not without damage. Three horses beside him fell, and so did two riders. He grunted his sadness. Then without warning a lone gun went off, and the shire beneath him fell.

ஐ

Patrick awoke two days later, his shoulder re-bandaged. He grunted in pain, and gazed around him to see where he was. In the hospital tent he realized. Where else would he be? Patrick saw a nurse out of the corner of his eye, and waved for her. "C'mere for a second!" He burgled. The nurse jumped at his voice, and looked around to see who had spoken to her. When she saw that it had been Patrick, she rushed over. "Did we win or lose?" Patrick asked. The nurse looked at him blankly. "The battle!" He snarled.

"Oh!" She said flinching a little from his tone. "You won, sir. After your horse was killed you were knocked unconscious, and suffered a concussion. Your lieutenant, Asher, took control and won. There were eighty casualties, and eleven injuries." Patrick nodded, his heart sinking. Usually it would have been the other way around, but the rebels were excellent marksmen. He grunted, and pushed himself up. "Oh no, sir! You must rest!" The nurse objected, but Patrick pushed past her. He had been stripped down to his under garments, but he quickly found, and donned his clothing. Then he went out and brought out his armour and sword from his tent. Someone had been nice enough to lay them upon his bed.

He put on his chest plate and spurs, then sheathed his sword. Then he went to the Calvary's make shift stable. "I need a General's horse!" He growled at the boy that greeted him. Patrick was not in a good mood.

"Sir, there are no more horses..." The boy replied weakly. "But there is a small stable on the edge of a nearby town, many men have went there to get horses. They say their fine, well-trained beasts."

I clapped him on the back with my thick hand. "Thank you lad!" I mumbled, then I set out to get me a horse.

Patrick wandered down the warn trail, humming as he went. His sword hung at his side, his left hand resting upon it's hilt. In the distance he could see a  barn with corrals, and horses around it. Patrick quickened his pace, and soon arrived. The man saw that a few horses had been tied out front, and he examined them. There was a long legged bay, that was flashy. But the poor beast wouldn't make it a week over the rough terrains and conditions. The next was a black horse. This one was stockier, and better built to be war horse. But as Patrick went to rub his neck, thinking he had found, the one. The black beast laid his ears back, and nipped at Patrick. That was a defiant no!

 Seeing no other horses in the front, Patrick made his way into the barn looking for others. Right away, a roan stallion caught his eye. Seeing no one around, Patrick grabbed a lead rope, and brought the stallion from his stall. He was a fine beast! Gentle and intelligent, yet tall and strong. This was the horse for him! Patrick led the horse to the front, deciding to see how he moved till a person showed up that could tell him more about the stud.

(How was that? I hope it was long enough! Do you like my character, or should I tweak him a little? Any other suggestions???)

[Greed]

Nell wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. She’d taken to mucking out stalls so she could collect the horses on lease and bring them back to the stables. The only horses left were a piebald mare heavy with foal and Patriot. Of course, neither of them were for sale or to be taken off to war. Hadrian knew how important Patriot was to Nell, and even while she suspected he thought she should offer him up for the sake of their kingdom, he never mentioned it. Nell was thankful for that. Patriot wasn’t for sale. He never would be. She’d send herself to the gallows before she sent Patriot off to war.

Finished mucking out the last stall, she rested the pitchfork against the door of a stall and wiped her hands on her originally tan pants, now splattered with dark brown splotches from various sources. Nell pulled her hair back and tied it up with a spare piece of twine before washing her face and hands in the water bucket left specifically for the humans, though a number of the horses drank from the washbasin. Shaking her hands dry she called out to Hadrian to tell him she was going to retrieve the leased horses.

It was a short walk to each of the houses, and while some of the families leasing the horses said they’d have a servant ride them over completed in a set of tack for the kingdom, others simply led her to the stables and held her lead ropes attached to halters and told her to make sure she wasn’t duping them out of their well-paid money and that the horses would actually be used in war. Although somber about it, Nell had no trouble in assuring them that all the horses were being sent to war. By the time she was heading back to the stables, she had an extra fifteen leased horses promised to be back before midday tomorrow. However…for the ones who refused to bring the horses back on their own, there were five, and Nell found herself battling the strength of the five horses as they bit and kicked at each other and pulled her in all different directions.

People…ain’t got no courtesy. Those lily-livered noblemen and their fancy clothes. Ain’t got a damn clue what us commoners do for food. Nell’s sour mood continued as she angrily jerked a cremello gelding’s halter forward, in which he responded to by shoving his hooves into the ground and refusing to move, spraying said ground onto her pants, not that the extra dirt was noticeable. Nell let out an exasperated sigh and stopped the procession, ignoring the young boys’ sniggers and the surrounding people making wide circles around her and the horses to keep out of her way. She ended up moving the cremello stallion, Blazer, onto one hand and keeping the lead rope short, so his bobbing head hit her hand every time his head dipped down, and the other four, slightly more docile horses in the other hand with various lengths given to the lead ropes so they weren’t all walking side-by-side. Finally content with her setup, Nell let out an exasperated sigh and began walking forward again.

It took twice as long to get back home as it did leaving, but when the barn was in sight the silhouettes of horses waiting to be taken were still there. And…a new silhouette. One she didn’t recognize. But she’d recognize the form of Patriot anywhere. Furrowing her brow she picked up her pace and examined the human’s shape more thoroughly from the distance she was at. It obviously wasn’t Hadrian. Who the hell was handling her horse? Who the hell was handling her horse!? Picking up a jog, she forced the horses behind her to trot as she made her way to the barn. She slowed to a walk when she reached the front of the barn, Blazer tossing his head and rearing up halfway when Major bit him. The black horse had his ears pinned back and Blazer danced away from him.

“You!” Nell snapped. “Whaddya think yer doin’, takin’ horses outta their stalls? This ain’t a come’n get one for free, y’know!” Nell stumbled forward as Blazer decided he wanted to reach out and bite at Patriot. Exasperated, Nell dug her heels into the ground and swung her arm, forcing Blazer to cross his legs and trip over himself and barely catch himself from falling. However, indignant, he kept his distance from Patriot and the others after that, ears halfway down and nostrils flared. The four other lead ropes in her other hand were slack, and she was glad for the momentary reprieve. She was tired of jerking around the beasts and her arms were tired. Yes, she was fit, but dragging around five horses wasn’t her usual workout. “He ain’t fer sale.” Nell said flatly, shoving Blazer’s lead rope into his hands and taking Patriot’s for him. She glanced over him once, taking in his uniform before her spite for the man grew. “We ain’t sellin’ to yer kind individually. Ye’ll get yer own horse when these’re taken.” Nell jerked her head in the direction of the horses lined up outside of the barn. She led Patriot and the other four into the barn, opening Patriot’s stall with her foot and skillfully unclipping the rope and swatting his rump, closing the door behind him and latching it again. With one less horse on her hands, getting the other four to their respective stalls she came back and took Blazer from the man’s hands.

She made sure to put him in Major’s stall—it was the only stall not attached to any others, and it was reserved for problem horses. Blazer wasn’t usually all too bad, but he was more energetic than was proper for a horse his age. Proper, or usual. Sighing, she looked at her hands that’d been rubbed raw from the ropes. Ah well. All in a day’s work. She looked up to see the man still there and grimaced, “Why’re ya still here? Ye’ll get yer horse when ya do. So ya can leave now.”

(No, he's perfect! As was your post!)

[∞Infinity∞]

That's when Patrick blew. He stormed up to the girl, his blue eyes like a steely ice. "Who do you think you are, Girl? You're sure not my leading commander!" He growled out, then after taking another breath,"I came for a commander's horse, and those flea bags out front will not pass! That roan in there will though, so he WILL be coming with me, whether you like it or not! And maybe, just maybe, you don't know who I am? Well, I am Commander of the sixteenth Calvary, and next in line to the Throne! My name is Sir. Patrick, and you best be fetching my horse!" After going off, Patrick quickly regained his composure, and looked down at her. His face was flushed and red, and he was breathing hard.

Patrick continued working with the stallion. He was a fine creature. He was well-bred, and very intelligent. He listened to every command Patrick asked of him. Patrick decided this was the horse he wanted, and he would get him! No matter what he had to go through or pay. Patrick finally brought the stallion in, and patted his head. He pulled on the lead lightly, seeing if the stud was ground tied. Whether he was or wasn't, the stallion didn't move an inch. Patrick smiled. Then with expert hands, he ran them over the horse's back and legs. The horse was in good condition, and very strong.

Patrick's smile widened. He murmured gently to the horse, watching his sleek ears twitch to catch his words. Patrick was sure the horse could hold his weight, and his war saddle. The war hadn't yet gotten bad enough to equip the horses with a full set of armour, but Patrick suspected it was close. He thought that this stud could hold the armour too though. Patrick looked over his shoulder, just looking, and saw a person leading horses down a hill. That must be the stable owner, he thought. Patrick smiled again, his white teeth shining. As Patrick watched, the person picked up their pace, and continued toward him at a jog. Then he realized it was a girl. Must be the daughter, he thought absently. As she got closer, he seemed to see a bit of a scowl on her face, and his charming smile faded.

The girl walked right up to Patrick,"You!” ,She snapped. Patrick flinched, his mouth gaping for words. “Whaddya think yer doin’, takin’ horses outta their stalls? This ain’t a come’n get one for free, y’know!”
Patrick was shocked. "I... I was just..." He stuttered trying to get his words out. It had been a long time since anyone had ever talked to him this way. And he didn't take it kindly. Patrick watched as she yanked on the head of a cremello,as he tired to bite the roan. He rimanced, watching as the poor creature's head whipped back, and he almost fell.

“He ain’t fer sale.” The girl said flatly. At once Patrick's little left over smile fell. Now he was getting very angry. No one just walked in here, and started yelling at him, and then told he couldn't have the horse he wanted! His thoughts were interrupted by the lead rope being jerked from his hand, and replaced with the cremello's.
“We ain’t sellin’ to yer kind individually. Ye’ll get yer own horse when these’re taken.”
Patrick was really mad now, but have been taught to control his anger, he let it pass. He was still determined to get his horse, one way or another. He looked over at the horses tied in the front. He was about to say something, but realized she had walked away, and was returning the horses to their stalls. After she was finish, she came back and took the Cremello from him. Patrick waited patiently, his anger building.

“Why’re ya still here? Ye’ll get yer horse when ya do. So ya can leave now.”

That's when Patrick blew. He stormed up to the girl, his blue eyes like a steely ice. "Who do you think you are, Girl? You're sure not my leading commander!" He growled out, then after taking another breath,"I came for a commander's horse, and those flea bags out front will not pass! That roan in there will though, so he WILL be coming with me, whether you like it or not! And maybe, just maybe, you don't know who I am? Well, I am Commander of the sixteenth Calvary, and next in line to the Throne! My name is Sir. Patrick, and you best be fetching my horse!" After going off, Patrick quickly regained his composure, and looked down at her. His face was flushed and red, and he was breathing hard.

(Sorry it's Short! I again had to rewrite it... So i tried getting it done quicker, than making it longer. Hope it was as good as the last!)

[Greed]

Nell was honestly surprised that the fancily dressed man held his composure as well as he had. She supposed, however, that that was just what he’d been raised to do—losing one’s temper at a station like his? It must be a serious disgrace to throw a temper tantrum. She was quite certain that he’d be a public disgrace if he blew up in front of people. Luckily for him, she supposed, and unluckily for her, there weren’t too many people are them right now. This time was always a lull in business, and with the war going on there were ever fewer people than usual. It upset Nell. This was supposed to be her home—she was supposed to wave at people she knew as she hauled tack over her shoulder and took them to the back room. She was supposed to turn out the numerous horses into the pastures and then bring them in at nightfall. She was supposed to be living the life she’d always led…and yet…here she was. She felt as if she was slaughtering her own horses. Her only companions.

Nell eyed him every now and again to make sure he kept his distance from her horse. Lovingly, she patted the roan’s cheek and kissed his fuzzy muzzle before she turned her attention back to the well-dressed man. While it didn’t bother her in the least that she was horribly dressed compared to him…but she suspected she was more genuine than he was, a thousand times over. Nell flinched when the man came storming over to her, eyes widening as she stared at him as he snapped. Perhaps if it had been any other horse, she’d have been more inclined to listen to the man’s furious outrage, but Nell wouldn’t give away the horse she’d raised from the birth. The horse she’d trained herself. The horse she fed, brushed, and cared for all with the meager savings she managed to collect by working at the stables, and the odd side job on top of that. Patriot was her horse. And this man wasn’t taking him.

It took her a moment to regain her own composure, having been caught off-guard by the man. “M’name ain’t ‘girl,’” Nell corrected, “It’s Nell.” She paused for a moment, eyes flickering to the horses standing out at the front of the barn, “’n obviously ya got a problem if ya can’t settle for one of ‘em out there. They’re fine horses. Better’n the roan. Battle-bred.” Nell tried to keep her composure. She didn’t like being ordered around and least of all being told off. After a moment of trying to keep her cool, Nell allowed a little of her temper to flare, but she kept her voice level and her outward appearance calm, although the words she spoke with were dripping with honeyed poison. “I don’t care if yer the commander of the sixteenth cavalry. I don’t care if yer the king ‘imself. I got a right to what’s mine and what I worked for. An’ that horse is mine. I raised ‘im from a colt, I trained ‘im, I been breakin’ my back over keepin’ ‘im in shape while takin’ care of all the other horses, too.”

Nell straightened, standing as tall as she could manage, and yet still she was a few inches shy of being as tall as Patrick. “So, Sir Patrick,” she said venomously. “He ain’t yer horse, he ain’t this kingdom’s horse. He’s mine. There ain’t no price ya can gimme that’ll make me change my mind. Take Blazer, or Major, or one’a the others. But Patriot…” Nell was suddenly oddly sentimental, “Patriot’s my life. And I don’t give away my life to fancy-clothed, spineless noblemen like yerself.” Nell knew she ought to be slapped for being so rude. But the way noblemen acted…like they were just so much better than all the commoners… It grated on Nell’s nerves so much she swore if it was legal or in her power, she’d smite every last one of them until the ‘race’ of nobles was completely wiped off the kingdom. Given, her personal opinions and grudges shouldn’t be inflicted upon the next in line for the throne… If he really wanted, he could have her beheaded for any number of things—and they didn’t have to be true, necessarily, either. She wasn’t making a good impression on him, but he wasn’t making a good impression on her, either. So. Looks like they were at a standstill.

Checkmate.

(It's cool :3)

[∞Infinity∞]

Patrick stared at the girl, seething. He couldn't believe she had just talked to him that way. His eyes were round, but the corners of his mouth perked up in a slight snicker. He had fazed her. He had gotten to her, he was sure of it! A hysterical, bubbly laughter felt as if it was going to rip from his throat. He pushed it back down though. He switched a bit, as the girl straightened up. His shoulder hurt, and so did his knees. Heavy riding put a lot of strain on your knees.

Suddenly very tired, Patrick walked over to the roan's stall, and leaned on it. He patted the gentle horse, and started at the girl. She should be afraid of him. She should be groveling at his feet, yet here she was, standing her ground. A smile lit his face. He through his hands in the air, as if accepting defeat. He walked over to the cremello's stall, and led him out. Patrick tied the horse, and walked back over to the girl. "Well Nell. I must admit, you do have a point. Yet, I also have a fairly big advantage over that point." He slowly slid out his sword, and pointed it at her. It was a Calvary sword, and not very thick or heavy. Yet, it was sharp enough to slice a hair down the middle.

Patrick went on,"You can either be smart about this, and give me the horse. Which I would take excellent care of, and return to you after the war is over. OR, you can be decapitated, and I still take the horse. The first choice has a bonus. You get to come along, on the cremello. I would choose the first choice."

I smiled at her, I had her trapped. She might think I was bluffing, but I was not. I had already killed enough men, and ruined enough women's lives that one more wouldn't add to my already guilty conscience. I stared at her, my blue eyes gleaming. "Now, as you make up your mind, I must know my future mount's name." 

Still keeping the sword at eye level with her, and making eye contact, I walked over and opened the roan's stall. I grabbed his halter, and led him with me back over to the girl. My smirk still in place, I rubbed the horse's forehead with the hilt of my sword, being careful not to cut him. Yet, I still didn't take my eyes from the girl. If she even breathed wrong, I would catch her.

[Greed]

Nell nodded in victory, keeping the smirk off of her face. “His name’s Blazer,” she said, her voice lowered with the sense she’d managed to convince this no-good, egotistical noble. “The tack’s this way,” she said, jerking her head in the direction of the tack room. She nodded at his words, glowing with a sense of pride that she’d bested Sir Patrick. So when he next spoke, she was thoroughly confused. Her eyes moved to where his hands went. Her heart stopped when he drew his sword, eyes shooting to its sharpened point. Nell stumbled back a step and held up her hands in a placating gesture. There was a lump in her throat as she listened to his ultimatum.

“No…” she murmured. “No, wait.” Her eyes flickered back to his sword, making sure she stayed out of reach. She watched as he led Patriot from his stall, the roan flicking is ears and flaring his nostrils to take in the scent of the visitor. Act out, please! Make him not want you! Please, Patriot…you stupid horse! “Patriot,” she murmured. “His name’s Patriot,” she repeated, a bit louder this time. Her heart was breaking. If she let Patriot go, undoubtedly she’d never see him again.

Disregarding her own safety, she stepped forward and put her hand on the lead rope, making sure not to touch Patrick’s hand. “Please,” she pleaded. “He’ll die if ya take ‘im. I’ll never see ‘im again… He’s all I got…” Nell felt her eyes watering. “Please. I’ll do anythin’. Anythin’. Just don’t take ‘im away from me…” Nell looked over his shoulder at Blazer, who was gnawing at the wooden post he was currently attached to. She couldn’t help but let her mind wander to the unpleasant thought of living in a world without Patriot. He had to know it was true, though, that the horse wouldn’t live. She wondered how many horses he’d gotten killed out there on the front lines. It was a bloody war, and not only human blood was being spilled. But then, an idea struck her. If she came with him…she could just take him back. It wouldn’t be stealing. Patriot was her horse. He always would be. As soon as they got somewhere where she could sneak him out, she would. And she’d ride. Into the other kingdoms, if she had to. Until she reached a place where she wouldn’t be found.

Looking defeated, Nell dropped her hand from the rope, glancing nervously at his sword before taking a step back. “Fine.” She said, her voice cracking slightly, unintentionally. “Yer a right bastard for it, but if there ain’t no arguin’ with ya about it… yer stuck with me.” Nell sidestepped awkward to ensure that the point of the man’s sword was always in her sight. “But Patriot’s my horse. Remember it.” Nell moved to pass under Blazer’s neck, heading to find Hadrian. The old man was fumbling around, talking to a young man.

“Hadrian?” she asked.

“Nell? Oh, Nell. Good! This is Finnegan. He’s our new stablehand. He’s gonna help us git the horses ready for the wars.”

“Great… Hadrian, I’m leaving. I’ll be back after the war…or before. I don’t know yet. There’s a man bent on Patriot…” Wisely, Nell decided to leave out the part about Patrick threatening her. “I’ll come back, I promise. I’m taking Blazer.” Nell moved forward and kissed the top of his head. “I love you, old man.” She smiled. It was the first time she’d ever told him that—Hadrian was a father to her, and he was all she had left in terms of one. And unfortunately, she knew in her heart it would probably be the last.

Hadrian grimaced, brows furrowing over blind eyes. “Oh, you. Leaving at the worst time. I’ll see if these old bones survive long enough to be in your presence again.”

“You will.” Nell, saving herself from more painful goodbyes, walked off. She came headed back to the horses and the man taking away her prized and only possession, bending under Blazer’s neck again and patting his shoulder before looking longingly at Patriot. Then, she grabbed tack and began tacking him up, and letting him stay tied to the post once she’d finished before bumping Patrick out of the way. “Patriot’s got special tack.” Nell went into the back room and came back a few minutes later with the tack she always used on Patriot—the only tack he’d ever used since he was broken in. The worn saddle was fit to her shape, now, after years of use, and she hoped in the back of her mind it’d make Patrick uncomfortable when he rode. As she put the familiar saddle onto his back, Patriot snorted and bobbed his head, turning his neck so he could pull on the sleeve on her arm with his teeth. It was times like these when Patriot was the only thing in her world. Laughing, she pushed his muzzle away.

“C’mon. Ya gotta let me tack ya up, lard.” Nell chuckled when he moved his head away, only to come back around and reach his top lip out to lip her boots. “C’mon, Patriot,” she said, pulling the girth. Upset at the sudden tight movement, Patriot’s head shot up and he nickered loudly, causing Blazer to lift his head and nicker right back. Nell shook her head affectionately and removed the later and slipped the bridle over his head. It took a few tries for Patriot to accept the bit, but it was always like that. Once she’d finished with that, she pulled the reins over his head and held them in her hands, resting her forehead against Patriot’s and kissing his muzzle, whispering to him, “We’ll come home soon. I ain’t gonna let anythin’ happen to ya…” Straightening, remembering Patrick’s presence, she reluctantly handed him the reins. “…Here.”

[∞Infinity∞]

Patrick's eyes gleamed in satisfaction as she realized what he was saying. He really was a kind soul, and had a good heart, and hated being driven to these measures. But he would not allow some stable girl to boss him around like he was lower than her. Even a good heart believes in what they have been taught. And this is what he had been taught, the fact drilled into his head by a multitude of teachers and adults. She was of a lower class, and that made him better than her.

Patrick was caught off guard when she moved forward to grab the lead rope, his eyes searching her face for her next move. He didn't see any malicious content, and wasn't surprised when she started up on a sob story. He was used to these as a commander in the Calvary, and as a Lord. Hers though, caught his attention. He was truly surprised by how emotional and truthful she was being. It did pull at his heart a little. It was true, many horses didn't come back from the war, but he was going to take extra precautions with this one. This stallion was strong enough to carry a full suit of armour, so Patrick would not hesitate in dressing him in one before each battle. He was about to tell the girl this before she seemed to make up her mind on coming with him.

Patrick nodded as she agreed, and then called him a bastard. He was used to this. He kept nodding, as she went on, folding his arms so the blade of the sword hung limp and away from the horse. Then he watched as she walked off, no doubt saying some goodbyes. Patrick turned to the roan,"Well, Patriot. Looks like we're partners. You take good care of me, and I'll take good care of you." He rubbed the stallion's head, sheathing his sword.

A few moments later, Nell came back, ducking under Blazer's neck. Patrick nodded to her words, and watched as she tacked up his new mount. He grinned as she whispered stuff to the horse, and the stallion seemed to talk right back. Patrick had to stop himself from chuckling. Then as Nell finished, after a surprising whinny attack from both horses, Patrick watched as she kissed the stud's muzzle. He smiled a little.

Then the young girl straightened and handed Patrick the reins. Patrick took them, and looked at the girl carefully. Then with a shy grin, he offered them back to her. "Actually, Why don't you ride him to camp. It looks like that saddle is more suited to you anyway, and I didn't bring mine along." I turned to Blazer, and untied the horse. I looped his lead around his neck, and tied it to his halter. Then with a mighty heave, Patrick lifted himself  onto the cremello's back. Patrick grinned down at Nell, and winked. "I'd like Patriot to get used to my company and voice before I ride him. I'll just ride Blazer back like this." Then with a quick glance around the barn, I looked at the girl seriously in the eyes,"If you try anything on the way there, or when we're there. I'll have you like that!" Patrick snapped, to make his point. Then sighing, he went back to his happier light hearted mood.

He rode toward the front of the barn, trusting the girl to follow. He rode Blazer loosely, allowing the horse to move at his own pace. Patrick was a fine horseman after all! After a couple of minutes, without looking back, Patrick asked,"So where you from Nell?"

[Greed]

Patriot tossed his head as the stranger talked to him, flaring his nostrils and taking in the foreign scent again, flicking his ears back nervously at the sound of the sheathing sword. New sights and sounds weren’t something Patriot was exposed to every day, and the unusual activity sent him into prancing on his hooves. His ears flicked in acknowledgement of being talked to, but the moment Nell returned he neighed and bobbed his head, happy to see the woman who’d raised him. As she’d watched him grow, he’d watched her grow.


Nell had halfway turned her back on him, ready to get on Blazer and make the miserable trek back to wherever they would be going, knowing she was sending her only friend off to war where he’d never come back from. Would he feel betrayed, after never having been ridden by another soul his entire life? Would he know in his last living seconds that she’d given him up to this awful, bloody fate? She’d made up her mind. If she couldn’t sneak him away in the middle of the night, and if Patriot ended up dying out there…she’d demand to be taken to wherever his body lay, and she wouldn’t move. She’d stay there with him, whether she died of starvation or of the cold...because if he died, she’d never, ever forgive herself.

Nell hadn’t been expecting the reins to be handed back in her direction, and she successfully smothered a smile as she took the reins back. She didn’t hesitate taking them back into her hands, either. With skillful and practiced ease, she tossed the reins over Patriot’s head, looking over in curiosity as Patrick mounted Blazer. It was obvious to her as she watched him that he was no stranger to horses. While she could only gauge a little bit from watching him interact with horses, she didn’t care if she knew he could probably take better care of Patriot considering the wealth he must undoubtedly have. Patriot was hers. She’d take care of him. It didn’t matter if she had hardly any money. What she did have was an undying love for the stallion she’d raised from birth, and that was worth more than all of the coins in the world.

Lithely, Nell vaulted herself into the saddle, landing without a sound and gathering the reins in her hand. She looked over at Patrick as he started talking again as she nudged Patriot to walk forward a couple steps, the horse wisely stopping a few paces away from Blazer. The horses didn’t get along famously, and Patriot was smart enough to know to stay away from his rival’s hooves and gnashing teeth. Nell rolled her eyes at his threat, “Really,” she said, exasperated. “What do you think I’m capable of doing? The best I can do is run off, and even then, Blazer’s stamina is a match for Patriot’s.” While that wasn’t entirely true, Nell would at least try and get him to believe she couldn’t escape on Patriot. But if she had to, she knew both she and Patriot would make it work. The horse was a brilliant creature. Blazer wasn’t dull, and Nell was biased, so she, by default, thought Patriot was better. Perhaps one day that would be her downfall.

She couldn’t—and didn’t try to—stop the smile from spreading across her lips when she settled into the familiar walking motion as Patriot started walking. She directed the horse a little ways away from Blazer, keeping the horses’ heads in line but putting a comfortable amount of space between the two of them. Her hips swayed gently with Patriot’s smooth walk, wanting to send him into a gallop, not just to get away, but to taste the freedom she felt whenever she and Patriot were riding at breakneck speed. Plus, Patriot could use the exercise. She exercised him as much as she could, but with her other duties sometimes she didn’t think what exercise she did get him was enough. Undoubtedly he’d have to be trained if he were to be galloping around a battlefield all day…but she knew it wouldn’t get that far. He’d have to be trained to ride hard overnight so that she and him could get away from the situation they were currently in. As if sensing her intentions, Patriot threw his head up and pranced forward a few steps, flicking his ears back in what seemed to be curious disdain when she reined him back, but didn’t bother to fall back in line with Patrick’s horse. She reached forward and pat his neck. Patience, brute, Nell thought with another small smile. Yes…Patriot was the best horse anyone could ever ask for.

“Out ‘n the country,” she responded, shrugging her shoulders, but her home was long gone now. “Lil no-name town.” The fond memories of the small ‘town’—it was more of a village, really—made her smile lightly. But the moment the memories of the skin-scorching fire flitted at the corners of her mind the smile died down. “Ain’t been in the country for years. Ain’t plannin’ on goin’ back either.” Changing the subject, Nell bantered with a question of her own, “What ‘bout yerself, pretty boy? Born ‘n bred in some fancy mansion ‘r somethin’ of the sort? Ya priv’l’ged people ain’t got a clue what us workin’ folk go through.”

[∞Infinity∞]

Patrick's blue orbs snuck a glance at the girl as they continued, and she answered his question. He nodded where he felt appropriate, and even smiled at her once. Beneath him, Blazer moved with a delightful smoothness. Yet, Patrick could feel that the horse was a little short coupled, which meant he would have a rough lope, and gallop. Not a good thing for a war horse to have.

Patrick looked at her when she asked her own question, and his small, casual smile, instantly disappeared. The little name she had just called him, bothered him. He was quite fond of his actual name, and insisted to be called that. Patrick waited though, till Nell was finished with her little comments, and questions. "Actually is Patrick. I don't care if you call me sir, or whatever. But please, Patrick would be grand." At this moment Blazer decided he was going to bite at Patriot, and Patrick quickly pulled his head back. "Excuse me, I didn't think I would be interrupted. And I in-fact, was raised in a castle. But castle living is not as fun as it seems, and there was also my schooling to be tended to. Which, by your slang and drawl, I can tell you didn't get much of."

Patrick smiled at his own little comment, and hoped it would shut her up a little. He had wanted to talked, but not be ridiculed every other sentence. Yes, Patrick had lived a high life, but it was not so easy. He never had many friends, and was expected to be a perfect child. He could never go rough house with the village boys, or go play in the mud. The closest he ever had to fun, was riding Stardust out along the walls. It was a sad life for the boy, that is till he discovered hunting. It was a wonderful pastime, and he greatly enjoyed it. He planned on going again, when this blasted war was over. Also participating in a jousting tournament, might be a nice, new hobby.

Patrick turned back to Nell,"So you ever been in a castle? Or went on a hunt?" He asked casually. Blazer started trotting a little, but it was smooth and steady, and did not jostle Patrick. The late sun was slowly, falling from the sky, and a magnificent sight was being born. Pinks, and purples were strewn through the sky, like a toddler got loose with their mother's paints. Patrick smiled at the thought. The man loved kids, absolutely loved them! He hoped to someday, settle down and have a couple of his own. He thought he would make a wonderful father. So out of no where, Patrick asked,"Do you like kids?"

(SSS and for the wait. I had to do this in a rush)

[Greed]

Patriot danced to the side when Blazer’s muzzle moved closer to him. Nell didn’t bother trying to move Patriot back closer to Patrick and Blazer, instead keeping a good amount of distance between the two horses. Patriot’s wary trot settled down as soon as Nell gave a gentle tug on the reins. It was obvious from the stiff-muscled walk that Patriot was walking that he was ready to get out there and gallop. She could feel his muscled bunched up from the severe control he had over himself, trying to listen to his rider instead of doing what Nell knew he obviously wanted. And usually, she would’ve let him without hesitation. But with a crazy noble with a sword riding beside her on a horse with a speed almost matching Patriot’s, she had a feeling it wasn’t a great idea. But how she longed to be out there with the wind in her hair, letting Patriot gallop as she spread her arms out wide and let the sense of freedom wash over her and send her into an ecstasy like no other. Nell rolled her eyes at Patrick’s comment. “Fine, Patrick,” she responded, not keeping the venom out of her voice. When he made a crack at her schooling, she reined Patriot to a halt.

“’Xcuse me, that I can’t ‘ave the impeccable education that ya did, Patrick, ‘cuz unlike ya, who sat on yer arse throughout yer ‘ntire childhood learnin’, I was workin’ from the day I could walk. I’ve got more experience with workin’ than ya ever will. So fer me, education comes second.” With that, she nudged Patriot back into a walk, falling into an uncomfortable silence. Her back was rigid as she sat in the saddle, Patriot’s still-tense muscles not doing anything to help her relax. She’d let him gallop a little bit. Not right now, but she would. The two of them remained in an uncompanionable silence for a little while before Patrick spoke again. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw him turn to her, but she didn’t return the gesture and kept her eyes on the road in front of her. “No, and no,” she said. She remained in silence again until Patrick started talking—again. She was beginning to wonder what he wanted from her, asking all these questions. Because she sure as hell wasn’t going to be his pleasure mistress. Unless, however, it would keep him from Using Patriot. Nell knew the lengths she’d go to to keep her horse safe were completely ridiculous, but Patriot was all she’d brought with her from her life beforehand…and while he was a memory of the raging flames that took her parents’—and the other horses’—lives, she couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.

“Never been ‘round kids much,” Nell replied honestly. “Dunno if I’d like ‘em. I ain’t good with much asides horses.” Nell added. She looked up at the sky. Soon it would be dark. Too dark for Patriot to gallop freely without hurting himself. Suddenly, Nell moved Patriot to cut across the path in front of Blazer and off to the side, where there was free room for as far as she could see. “Patriot needs exercise,” she explained. “Keep up if you can.” Over her shoulder, she sent Patrick a devious smile. He could take the smile whichever way he pleased. Patriot could tell as soon as his hooves hit the grass that Nell was going to let him race to the sunset if he so desired, and immediately started prancing, snorting and tossing his head, half-rearing and turning around as Nell reined him into submission once more, patting his neck. She paused him in the middle of the open space and leaned forward, rubbing his neck. “Let’s have some fun while we can, ‘kay, ya lard?” Nell laughed as Patriot tossed his head, his broad neck almost hitting her in the face. She sat back up and Patriot’s muscles bunched up underneath her, and the moment she tapped his sides he sprung forward, skipping a trot and a canter, launching himself into a full-blown gallop across the slightly uneven ground.

Nell whooped, leaning forward as Patriot gained speed. The roan stallion jumped over a fallen tree trunk, but while the movement was slightly unexpected Nell didn’t have a problem staying on. She turned her head over her shoulder to see if Patrick and Blazer were behind them, but the moment she did her hair flew into her face and she couldn’t see. Turning her head back around, she laughed, the melodic tone carrying on the wind. Who cared if Patrick was going to keep up? The freedom she felt right now canceled out the fact that she was terrified for Patriot’s life—and perhaps even her own.

She continued the mad dash until Patriot himself started to slow his gate, the horse blowing out breaths in huge gusts from his nostrils as he slowed down to a weary walk. The sun had set on the horizon and darkness had closed in for the most part. How long had they been running? Nell didn’t know. She did know they’d probably made better time than if they’d walked. Nell sat up, a cramp in her side, but she didn’t care. Her hair was windblown and the twine she’d had in it had fallen out somewhere along the way, but she’d get a new piece of twine from wherever they were going now. Her cheeks were flushed a rosy pink, that she didn’t know if Patrick would be able to see or not in the darkness, from having the wind hit her straight on. As Patriot was, she was catching her breath. She looked over her shoulder at Patrick and despite herself gave him a large grin. “Fun, no?” she asked, laughing her glee as her high slowly came down. Patriot’s head dipped forward as he caught his breath. “We near where we need’a be?” she asked Patrick, settling into the saddle and letting Patriot’s reins fall against his neck.

[∞Infinity∞]

Patrick ignored her rude comebacks, and sat straight on Blazer. The stallion was tense, and from a sidewards glance at Patriot, he was too. Patrick didn't know this stallion well, and was riding bareback, so a gallop would be nice. Patrick kept a tight rein on Blazer though. The young man frowned at Nell's responses, thinking it would be strange to have never been in a castle. But, that's just the difference between the casts. Patrick made a note to change that if he ever became king.

He directed his attention back to Nell, and his frown just creased. "Really? I'm the only child, but I've still been around plenty of kids." And he had! All the Lords and Ladys brought their kids to banquets or ceremonies. Patrick didn't make friends with any of them, but still did well with the younger ones. His thinking was disrupted by Nell moving Patriot in front of Blazer. The stud stopped abruptly, and Patrick slid up his neck. 

Righting himself, Patrick hardly heard Nell's explanation. He was more focused on the little smile she had given him, and Patriot's butt. With a crazy smile, and a loud WHOOP, Patrick dug his heels into Blazer's sides. The stallion squealed and took off after the two, almost unseating Patrick. But the man clung to the white mane, and kicked the stallion harder, bouncing with the rhythm of the Blazer's strides. Patrick laughed, and sat up straighter, clapping his heels against the stallion's sides. Then getting serious, the man leaned forward, and slapped the stud's shoulder. "Ha!!!", Patrick yelled, urging the horse forward. Blazer through his head, and pumped his legs harder. Patrick smiled, and gripped the stallion's mane. 

All to soon, Patriot's form appeared before them, and Blazer came to a jolting stop. Patrick wrapped his arms around the stallion's neck so he wouldn't be thrown off. Breathing hard, he sat up. Blazer gave a weary whinney, and prance a little. The stallion's heavy breaths matched Patricks'. Laughing, Patrick smoothed his sandy hair back, and away from his eyes. He grinned at Nell, his white teeth almost glowing in the dark. To his hidden happiness, the girl smiled back. Patrick nodded to her comment,"Yes... Yes it was!" Patrick listened to her question, and gave a small nod to a hill around 25 yards from them. "Just over that hill." 

Patrick wasn't 100percent sure what he was going to do with Nell yet. They didn't have a woman quadrant, and they were out of tents. Men were having to bunk with eachother, all thanks to the infantry showing up a.few days ago. The next battle was supposed to be really big... Going back to his situation, Patrick turned to Nell. "How do you feel about bunking with nurses? They're all older than you, and will probably ask you to work, but it's better than your next option. Which... is bunking with me, or one of the other men." Patrick cleared his throat, and nudged Blazer, leading the way over to the hill.

(Finally had time to reply! Sorry it took soo long!!! )

[Greed]

Nell had thought she wouldn’t have allowed herself to let loose like she had around him, but she couldn’t help it. She’d chalk it up to Patriot needing the exercise. Despite knowing she’d never give up Patriot without a fight, he would make an excellent warhorse. But at the same time, that was just her boasting under the light of her love for her prized possession. She didn’t want to give Patriot up. She’d rather die than see him sent off to war. Was that what she would end up having to do? Die for her beloved stallion? Hopefully not. Hopefully she’d manage to escape this situation with Patriot and run as far away as possible before there were any real consequences. She’d rather be put to death by the sword than allow her Patriot to be put to death by a bullet. A cannon, even. The thought made her shudder, and she was glad the night’s black cloak hid the gesture; covered her thoughts.

She nudged Patriot forward into an easy walk, the horse still snorting in breaths through his nostrils, and she didn’t blame him. She was still catching her breath as well, as she listened to Patrick explain some things. Bunking with the nurses didn’t sound too bad. She was used to hard work, anyways. Not gruesome work, however, so if the nurses needed her help doing any of that…she might just have to—politely, of course—decline. She would rather work tending for the horses. That was almost her only talent, anyways. What else had she ever done in her life? Nothing, was the answer. Horses had been in her blood since the day she’d been born. Since the day she took her first steps. And she’d seen her fair share of horses born, hurt, put down, trained, made champions. All of her memories consisted of horses, and one in particular. That blue roan stallion that sat underneath her with his easy swaying walk.

Nell made an audible noise at the mention of bunking with one of the men. She’d had her fair share of drunk, touchy men before, and she wasn’t all too keen on sharing a bunk with them. However, she could probably relate with the men more. All the work she’d done left her with a more masculine figure, but while the fact she was female was by far unmistakable, she was probably the farthest thing from a court lady as anyone could possibly get. Maybe even a distance from the women in the brothels. She was no slut, that was for sure. So in retrospect as long as the men gave her her space and agreed with facing the consequences if they didn’t, she would rather bunk with one of the soldiers. However, Nell wasn’t stupid, despite her lack of education, and knew bunking with the nurses would be the wiser of the two options.

“A way I could work with the horses, ‘stead of the nurses?” Nell asked. “I ain’t any good with…nursing,” Nell said, shrugging her shoulders laxly. “All I ever known is horses. I ain’t got skill anywhere else.” At least it was truth. “An’ I’ll stay with the nurses,” she added on, nodding again. “Prolly for the best, that way.”

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