[p] taught i'm a weapon

Ezekiel de le Poer · 04-04-2012, 02:00 AM

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Faster, his body urged, and the massive animal under him responded in kind. Viggo was not a horse made for true distance, but all horses were made to run. He snorted and pulled his head forward, and Ezekiel clung to the thick mess of fiery colored mane that flew against the wind. Riding bareback allowed for the silent communication that the Aquila preferred. Every muscle in his legs responded to those of his mount, and this silent understanding was what made them such a powerful team.

The land of the Waste was favorable for horses, and the well worn trails formed compacted earth lines that made travel easy. It was over one of these they ran, the golden and red-painted coyote hunched against the wind and the horse thundering along. Truthfully Ezekiel was small enough to fit atop nearly any horse; his larger wolfish cousins needed a horse of the chestnut’s size given their own weight. More value came because of Viggo’s temperament and his strength.

Though training had extended the massive horses’ stamina, he still could not maintain such a speed for long. Froth was already forming along his body, and his breathing was labored. Ezekiel leaned back and the horse slowed to a canter—Ezekiel would not force him to walk so quickly. To his surprise (or lack thereof) the sight of two familiar shapes grew on the horizon. He turned towards them, and used the distance to ease Viggo into a trot. The big horse announced himself with a whinny, calling towards one of the many mares he considered his own.

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