She was a wealth of knowledge, and it was doubly infectious hearing such details from one who clearly loved the subject. Yeh Bugger was not her steed and never would be, but she cooed over him as if she'd been there when he was born. For his part, the horse snuffled and whinnied and tried to happily eat her hair whenever he got the chance.
Konrad shook his head and patted himself down for his pipe. Cheeky sod.
He looked up sharply when she mentioned having to put him down, because of a bad leg. He wouldn't enjoy that... though couldn't imagine grieving as fiercely as she knew a Drykas would. Horses for them were family, not pets or property or walking, shyking modes of transportation. The Striders were but the most extreme example of that mentality: Konrad had seen Drykas weep over horses they'd had to put down, yet remain stone-faced when it came to their own kin.
Weird bloody people. But they know how to ride.
"Huh. I will remember what you say."
He would, too. Horse shoes, cleaning and filing, checking legs and knees... these were all little details he needed to pay attention to. For if he didn't, then his purchase was all for nothing. He gave up searching for his pipe just as he grasped it, deciding that the light was being wasted, and the breeze he craved could only be found in movement.
"We came out here to ride," he said in his careful, simple Pavi, hoisting himself up back into the saddle and ignoring his old, creaking bones. "So we ride."
He kicked his heels into Bugger's flanks and let out a "yarr!" like he'd heard from the Drykas before. It was enough to shock the gelding into action, perhaps a little more sharply than intended. The horse went from shuffling to trotting to a gallop within ticks, and Konrad was bent over his mane like a man holding on to a runaway cart.
But the breeze was back. The rush. The pounding of hooves so deep and powerful it was like an addiction. Then the sound was joined, and Konrad peered over, one hand jerking up to stop his hat blowing off... and he dared a grin.
Didn't take her long to catch up.
Konrad shook his head and patted himself down for his pipe. Cheeky sod.
He looked up sharply when she mentioned having to put him down, because of a bad leg. He wouldn't enjoy that... though couldn't imagine grieving as fiercely as she knew a Drykas would. Horses for them were family, not pets or property or walking, shyking modes of transportation. The Striders were but the most extreme example of that mentality: Konrad had seen Drykas weep over horses they'd had to put down, yet remain stone-faced when it came to their own kin.
Weird bloody people. But they know how to ride.
"Huh. I will remember what you say."
He would, too. Horse shoes, cleaning and filing, checking legs and knees... these were all little details he needed to pay attention to. For if he didn't, then his purchase was all for nothing. He gave up searching for his pipe just as he grasped it, deciding that the light was being wasted, and the breeze he craved could only be found in movement.
"We came out here to ride," he said in his careful, simple Pavi, hoisting himself up back into the saddle and ignoring his old, creaking bones. "So we ride."
He kicked his heels into Bugger's flanks and let out a "yarr!" like he'd heard from the Drykas before. It was enough to shock the gelding into action, perhaps a little more sharply than intended. The horse went from shuffling to trotting to a gallop within ticks, and Konrad was bent over his mane like a man holding on to a runaway cart.
But the breeze was back. The rush. The pounding of hooves so deep and powerful it was like an addiction. Then the sound was joined, and Konrad peered over, one hand jerking up to stop his hat blowing off... and he dared a grin.
Didn't take her long to catch up.
