These Old Bones

4-1

4

He made a play of adjusting the backpack, rolling his shoulders, lifting his arms and tugging at the straps. Truth be told, it was far more comfortable than he felt willing to show. The weight far better distributed and put far less strain upon his back. The bedroll, strapped at the bottom sat comfortable upon the small of his back and his weapons, now rolled up inside his old bag, and the buckler tied with a slip knot, felt good strapped onto the sides of the backpack. He wasn't willing to let the girl know any of that though.

She walked ahead, her hands holding onto the straps of her own backpack. Her cloak floating and lifting beneath it as she walked. Tiera walked beside him, leading her horse by the bridle, using her spear as a long walking stick, a smug smile upon her face every time he adjusted the pack, knowing full well what he was doing, even though Viriili hadn't so much as glanced back at them for about a mile or so.

"How come you along this way, then? I thought you and the pretty boy were hunting a murderer." He looked down at Tiera, only a few inches taller and a few years older than Viriili. Thick set, muscular and confident in her own body. "Thought, maybe, you'd be drinking away your bounty by now."

"Ah, yes. Well, when we got to the murderer's camp, I cautioned restraint." Without thinking, Tiera reached up to the bandage at her throat. "Tavar had other ideas. He charged into the camp and found our bounty wasn't alone. Had three friends with him. I raced around the other side of the camp and caught the group between us. It was a hard fight and ..."

"And ...?" Tiera's horse whinnied and tossed its head and Tiera shushed it, rubbing its nose. Brorzjav smiled. He liked horses. Didn't like riding, but he liked them.

"And, let's just say Tavar isn't so pretty anymore." Tiera gave a lop-sided grin. "Oh, he's alive, but his face is a mess. I got a nick on the throat for my troubles, but we killed them all. I decided Tavar could take the head back, keep the glory, and I'd gather up the plunder in the camp. Came to a pretty penny. More than the bounty, at any rate."

"And why come all this way?" He kept an eye on Viriili. The fool girl would as easy walk into slow-bog as wend a decent path through the moorland. "It's a bit of a coincidence, you finding her and then me."

"Think I'm some kind of stalker? After a bounty on your head, eh, Grey?" Again the lop-sided grin as she looked up at him. She had started calling him 'Grey' since they set off from the quarry. He didn't like it, but if he tried to stop her, she seemed the kind to call him it all the more. "It's no secret. I'm heading westwards. The bounty was to help pay my way. Then I found a broken cart, dead bodies and tracks leading this way. Thought maybe bandits had scored a pretty bit of coin and that I'd relieve them of the guilt. And their lives, of course."

"And found that little madam on the way." He jerked his chin in the direction of Viriili. "Been better for all our sakes had you just ridden by, you ask me. Bloody child."

"I think it's cute. She's imprinted on you." He could tell his brow had furrowed beneath his mop of hair and Tiera noticed, expanding on her statement. "Back home, we're brought up around horses. After a few years, we're given a foal and we imprint on it. We become bonded. Not in a magical sense, it's all in the mind, but we'd kill and die for that horse."

"You're one of those Pony Riders from Graatfeld, then?" She nodded and then Brorzjav thought back on something she had said. "Are you saying I'm a bloody horse to that child?"

Tiera laughed. Laughed hard and loud causing Viriili to turn at the noise and scowl at them both. Even the horse seemed to become excited. Lifting its hooves and stomping them upon the ground. Catching her breath, Tiera pulled on the bridle, calming the horse down. Brorzjav found himself scowling, too, much like the child.