The Moorian's Princess

The Moorians

On a hill in the Saren Kingdom, a young Gaelan woman hid in the tall bushes, watching a group of Moorian raiders gallop past. Her bowstaff lay on the ground, clutched in her hand to be used at a moments notice, her ears pricked forward listening for any sign that they noticed her hiding spot.

This was a terrible idea. She thought, cursing herself. Then she sent up a silent prayer. Gaia, if ye let me live through this I'll go right back home an' marry that Northern Prince.

But it seemed like Gaia had other plans. The Gaelan's bright green eyes watched as a set of black hooves stopped in front of her hiding place, the dark brown legs thick as Moorians born in those highland villages were.

The Gaelan stayed perfectly still, horror and fear making her body run cold.

The Moorian hesitated for a moment before moving on.

The Gaelan didn't have time to thank her lucky stars before a sneeze tickled her nose without mercy and she sneezed so loud that no one could have missed it.

Next thing she knew, someone was dragging her out of the bushes by her horns, laughing.

"Well, now. Lookit this wee lass." The Moorian forced her to look him in the pale blue eyes as she struggled and held tight to her aching horns. He grinned showing several yellow teeth. "Pretty youngin' ain't ye? What be yer name?"

Instead of saying her name, Aila of Saren, her hoof flew out to hit the Moorian square in the stomach.

The Moorian laughed, not even out of breath. "Got a bit'o fight there, lass. I like it. c'mon."

The Moorian dragged Aila by her antlers through the group. Her deer legs scrambling to keep purchase on the ground.

She was tossed to the ground in front of a set of hooves, Aila's cloak draped over her body, hair spilling around her face, the black legs of a highland pony shifted in front of her.

A large hand grabbed her arm, and pulled her to her hooves, she met the hard brown eyes of the Leader of this troupe.

He was all a Moorian should be, an all black highland pony from the waist down, strong muscular arms and chest, black hair to his shoulders and tail, both with a few braids in it, brown eyes, clean shaven face, strong jawline, and a slightly crooked nose.

He was wearing a roughspun shirt under a leather vest, a claymore strapped to his back, his green, brown and black plaid thrown over his shoulder and pinned there, the rest wrapped around his front and over his equestrian back.

Those brown eyes roamed over Aila's body. She glared, knowing what he would see. A skinny, soft looking Gaelan, the two hind legs of a deer long and graceful as an adult deer, but her hindquarters were spotted like a fawns. This was obvious because she wore no pants or skirts, only a studded leather vest and arm guards on her arms, most of her stomach lay bare. Her olive toned skinned soft and clear, a shower of gold streaked brown locks flowing freely over her hooded cloak, only two braids hung straight in front of her narrow pointed ears that stuck sideways out of her head. A pair of elegant antlers grew out of the top of her head about two hand lengths tall. Her face was sharp and narrow, high cheekbones, small button nose, and a pointed chin. Bright green eyes flashed from inside this face, and Aila knew that this Moorian would find these eyes gave away nothing she didn't want him to see.

"Found her with these, Callahan." The Moorian who had dragged her threw down her quiver and bowstaff, then he held up her elephant elk satchel and dumped it out, her flute, water skin, and knife tumbled out onto the grass. "She was hidein' in the bushes."

Aila stared furiously at her weapons, cursing these Moorians for finding her.

The Moorian named Callahan, whom had an iron grip on her arm, fingered the silver brooch that held her cloak, it was a circle carved with the tree of Yggdrasil. "Where'd ye get this, lass?" Callahan asked in a low rumble.