He was putting holes in her reasons to be angry quicker than she could form new ones. The squire might as well have poured cold water on her for how much she was starting to fumble with her frustration. He was shooting arguments at her quickly, and Kat was still pinned down by that arrow aimed squarely at her chest. Her glare shifted back and forth between the two of them, trying to keep an eye on the bowman while watching and listening to the squirrel--who soon revealed himself to be a Pycon. She never would have thought, but why she couldn't comprehend. Of course she'd never seen one, but Kat knew there were such creatures.
Her brothers had seen one in Syliras a few years back. Said it looked every bit like the statue of a beautiful woman, but moved and talked like some kind of magic possessed it. The Pycon did finally try to apologize--sort of. It quickly turned into another tirade once they found out why she was out here. To Katelyn it wasn't very unreasonable. She was just trying to find the damnable thing, not do anything overly stupid. The redhead's eyes narrowed defensively and she felt a fresh wave of fierce anger fighting its way through her brittle self-control. It killed the apology that she herself was trying to muster, setting it aflame and then stomping it in the dirt.
"Don't make assumptions!" she snapped haughtily. "You think I'm an idiot? I'm not going to fight off bandits for a cow, but I'm also not going to go back to that old farmer who hired me and lie to his face. If she can't be found, I'll tell him that. If she can be brought back though, I will bring her back. There's a fine little reward waiting for me if I do, and with winter coming the money will give be a nice cushion until spring. I'm not stupid. I'm not going to kill myself over this job, no matter how much he promised me. The reward is for the cow alive, but if it's going to cost me my own life, then by the Gods let her succumb to the forest. Still, I'm going to at least put in some effort. He hired me for a task and I'm going to finish it."
But it seemed both of the squires wouldn't be having that. When the Pycon dismissed her and ordered her to come along, she set her chin stubbornly and gave both of them a hard stare--especially the boy with the bow. He seemed to have grown very serious during the squirrel's lecture, and she returned his heavy stare with her own. In the cold silence that followed, Kat made her decision. She wasn't sure if this was illegal. Squires held no titles--no roles of real authority. They were trainees. Rude ones at that.
With that final thought, Kat snarled under her breath and kicked her pony into action. She held tight her reins and spun the gelding in a quick circle, urging him forward back toward and up the stream the way they'd been traveling before. His muscles bunched beneath her--she felt him coil like a snake under the saddle and between her thighs. She leaned forward over his neck as he bounded forward, tearing and gouging the earth with his hooves as he reached for purchase. The first few strides were slow as he found ground, but in a few breaths he was galloping full tilt back through the trees along the narrow tract of water, snorting and lunging and burning the anxious energy he'd been building up.
Her brothers had seen one in Syliras a few years back. Said it looked every bit like the statue of a beautiful woman, but moved and talked like some kind of magic possessed it. The Pycon did finally try to apologize--sort of. It quickly turned into another tirade once they found out why she was out here. To Katelyn it wasn't very unreasonable. She was just trying to find the damnable thing, not do anything overly stupid. The redhead's eyes narrowed defensively and she felt a fresh wave of fierce anger fighting its way through her brittle self-control. It killed the apology that she herself was trying to muster, setting it aflame and then stomping it in the dirt.
"Don't make assumptions!" she snapped haughtily. "You think I'm an idiot? I'm not going to fight off bandits for a cow, but I'm also not going to go back to that old farmer who hired me and lie to his face. If she can't be found, I'll tell him that. If she can be brought back though, I will bring her back. There's a fine little reward waiting for me if I do, and with winter coming the money will give be a nice cushion until spring. I'm not stupid. I'm not going to kill myself over this job, no matter how much he promised me. The reward is for the cow alive, but if it's going to cost me my own life, then by the Gods let her succumb to the forest. Still, I'm going to at least put in some effort. He hired me for a task and I'm going to finish it."
But it seemed both of the squires wouldn't be having that. When the Pycon dismissed her and ordered her to come along, she set her chin stubbornly and gave both of them a hard stare--especially the boy with the bow. He seemed to have grown very serious during the squirrel's lecture, and she returned his heavy stare with her own. In the cold silence that followed, Kat made her decision. She wasn't sure if this was illegal. Squires held no titles--no roles of real authority. They were trainees. Rude ones at that.
With that final thought, Kat snarled under her breath and kicked her pony into action. She held tight her reins and spun the gelding in a quick circle, urging him forward back toward and up the stream the way they'd been traveling before. His muscles bunched beneath her--she felt him coil like a snake under the saddle and between her thighs. She leaned forward over his neck as he bounded forward, tearing and gouging the earth with his hooves as he reached for purchase. The first few strides were slow as he found ground, but in a few breaths he was galloping full tilt back through the trees along the narrow tract of water, snorting and lunging and burning the anxious energy he'd been building up.