Outwitting and outsmarted

Anatole Aston · 10-09-2012, 01:15 PM

[html]

(395)He'll send the horses away unless you want to use them in the hunt; Ayita is too small to ride and running loose.

The fracture in his arm was bad enough to keep him off it. Anatole was irritable about the whole thing and after being informed it would be at least two moons before he was fully recovered, sulked for a full day. It was not so much that he was wounded as it was being trapped within his Optime form, something he rarely used. Of course, it now gave him ample time to become further adjusted to such a thing. With the hurricane gone recovery was what the Tribe now needed. Therefore Anatole adapted as was his nature and fell in line.

He continued to patrol, taking his horse more often, and was entertained by her young filly’s antics. Though still unsure of himself as a rider, he was adjusting to it and now much more comfortable. The trio circled wide along the borderline and avoided areas that Anatole had mentally noted as muddy, fearing that the horses might become stuck in the mess.

A howl rose from close by, and all three animals looked up at the sight of it. The little filly, a beautiful golden thing with a silly-looking pink nose that Anatole adored, let out a high whinny in response. Anatole chuckled and turned Bianca forward. The four-month old filly trotted after them, giddy at finally being able to run free now that the storm was over.

So the parade rolled into town and Anatole, conscious of it, dismounted before they arrived. He led the white mare by the loose hackamore that he had taken to using. It forced him to learn the mare’s patterns quickly in order to keep from harming her, and inadvertently aided his bond with her. By the time Ayita (the filly) was old enough to ride, he would no doubt be far more confident in his skills. Tall as he was his legs nearly touched the ground when he rode the mare and secretly hoped her filly would be larger. As if knowing she was being thought of, the palomino headbutted his leg.

With a grunt, Anatole lifted his hand towards the chocolate colored woman. She had also hurt her arm during the storm and much worse than his own. His was splinted and wrapped, but still somewhat useable. “Osiyo,” he called, pleased by his progress with the language. It would be his third, once he mastered it.

Login




Remember me Lost Password?