Blasphemy [Finan the Agile]

CHAPTER xiii. 'Thou Shalt Not Kill'

ﾟ❁ུ۪ °ₒ 𓂂 ˚ 𓂂 ₒ ° ₒ 𓂂 ˚˖⋆

CHAPTER xiii. 'Thou Shalt Not Kill'

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              Freydis let out a shriek, laughing as Ogna threw her off her back and into the mounds of shoveled snow enclosing the path to Crowland, Mercia. "I can't believe it," giggled the Irish Rogue, sitting up in the power-like snow with a wide grin plastered across her rosy cheeks. "Never before have I met a horse so appalled by snow!" They'd been traveling for a day already, and as they camped in the woods overnight it had begun to snow. The entire morning had been a struggle of packing up snow-soaked gear and trudging through untouched layers snow. To top everything off, Ogna the horse appeared to despise the cold substance touching the leg above her unfeeling hoof.

Finan, who had trailed back from the rest of the group to aid his fellow Irishman and her indelible stallion, had jumped off his own horse laughing. "How many times are yu' going to let the beast throw yu' off before givin' up?"

The Irish Lady laid back and threw her arms out as she allowed the powdery substance to shape around her, "I am not abandoning my horse, Finan. I will simply have to clear a better path of snow, do you have a spade I could use?"

The Irishman rolled his eyes, holding out a hand for her to grab so he could pull her up. Hesitantly, she allowed him to do so. "I have an idea," he gruffed, "but yu' gotta trust me."

"I was going to trust you," Freydis started, a curious eyebrow piqued, "but then you told me I must. What are you planning, Finan?"

The man smirked, not releasing her palm as he pulled her back to Ogna who anxiously tranced around his own horse, wanting to run but loyal to her mercurial equestrian. Hestitantly, Freydis allowed the man to place his palms under her boot as he thrusted her up onto her horse. The Irish Rogue quickly straddled her stallion, indifferent to the prospect of the beast running or throwing her off again. Freydis watched as the man then proceeded to unsheathe his sword, "Finan..." she mused, her voice troublesome. "What are you doing, Irishman?"

"Trust me." He repeated, smirking, "Irish-lady."

As Freydis rolled her eyes, the man poked the tip of his sword into the back thigh of her horse causing the mare to whinny and run. She quickly gripped the reins of the horse, tightening her legs around the beast as Ogna uncaringly hastened through the snow. When Freydis straightened her path, quickly approaching the rest of Uhtred's party, she looked back to find Finan closely catching up on his own ashy-grey beast. "You bastard!" She yelled, her wide grin disclosing her true anti-sentiment. As she quickly approached Osferth's horse, she pulled on the reins to slow herself down, by then, the path had been shoveled as the town's walls were just moments away.

Osferth turned back, bearing an amused grin at her and the Irishmans antics. "Ogna finally got used to the snow?"

"Not particularly," Freydis grinned, her nose apple-red from the whipping breeze. "She still loathes it,  but she loathes Finan's sword even more."