It had never occurred to Ezekiel the full use of a horse. He had seen them before, living with the tribe, and he had always admired their strength, but until Alaine thrust Viggo into his hands he had been mostly ignorant of them. Riding had become second nature, as it was so similar to the physical tasks he knew so well. Without tack, he was easier able to control the horse—and this cut down on the amount of work he needed to do outside of taking care of the animal itself.
The stranger spoke with a thick accent and met him with striking eyes. Ezekiel was wary of blue eyes, but the man looked relatively harmless. This was echoed by the way he held the blade, which while sturdy, was far too locked up for the Triarii’s liking. He slid from the back of his mount and sent him off with a gesture. “Some,” he admitted, one hand dropping into his bag to produce a sheathed combat knife. He had stolen it from the same place he had found the bag itself. “I don’t really like fighting with knives,” he admitted, shrugging off the bow, bag, and quiver as he neared the halfbreed. “What are you trying to do, anyway?”
.zekelion b {font-weight:bold; color:#000000; letter-spacing:1px; }
.zekelion .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:11px;}
.zekelion .wc {text-transform: uppercase; font-weight:bold;}
.zekelion p {text-indent:25px; padding:5px 10px; margin:0px;}
.zekelion {margin:0px auto; width:420px; background-color:none; background-image:url(http://bloodandfire.sleepyglow.net/publ ... kelion.png); background-position: bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:none; padding: 0px 0px 150px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#111111; line-height:16px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;}
</style>[/html]