*The Verge of War* A Medieval Rp

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Lsky said:
The robe landed close to Alfric on the bed. He held it in his hands, it was as thick and heavy as the fog which shrouded his thoughts. He waited until he had wrapped himself in it, pulled down the hood, and buttoned the front before he thanked Azor for his help.
"You're going too?" He asked quietly, keeping his eyes on the fire. A bead of sweat ran down his forehead and caught in his brow, he wiped it away and stiffled a cough with his sleeve.
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Of course I'm going, you didn't think you were going all the way to the castle without a body guard?
 
Alfric laughed, it was gravely and rattled in his chest.
"Who do you think I am?" He said mockingly. "Some kind of princess?"
 
Herja heard something stomp very near her. She jumped, clearly startled, and with one swift, fluid motion, swung her halberd around to the front of her in a defensive position. Focusing on where the noise came from, she squinted, then used the bladed side of her weapon to lift the overhanging branches as a gorgeous warhorse, nostrils flaring, neck arched, ears back, challenged her. "Oh, full of fire, are ye, I might not eat you after all!"
Herja decided such a beautiful, large, powerful horse deserved not only life, but a chance for the ultimate glory of a warrior's charger. Not afraid, Herja swung her halberd to her side, pointed end up, butt end on the ground. She spread her arms wide, facing the horse, to show dominance. She looked her straight in the eyes, showing no fear. A slow grin spread across her face. She clicked her tounge at the agitated warhorse.
 
India had never been challenged like this before, but now she could see clearly that the beast which ate of her apples, which stood, planted to the ground, arms wide like branches, was not a feral beast, but a feral woman. Strong as an oak. But not as strong as her. India threw herself back onto her hind legs and stamped down on the ground, as close to Herjas feet as she could go without crushing them. Leaning her head down, she locked her eyes with Herja and blew a forceful breath of hot air in her face.

Alfric looked the man over suspiciously. He could feel a fever setting in, and probably belonged in here by the fire more than he did out there in the cold evening air. Still, he knew he couldn't stay here for much longer, someone would surely take note of his absence sooner or later.
"Where did India go, my horse, where did she go?"
Alfric had grown quite accustomed to this mare of his, and now, much to his surprise, he found himself sadly missing her. Perhaps it was how strong she made him feel, or how free; when he tangled his hands in her mane and she galloped down through the trees, the wind whipping at his clothes, burning his eyes. pain never felt so good. His heart raced just thinking about it.
 
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Emilee finally caught up to Daisy. Despite Anna's warnings against riding her, Emilee scooted the baskets back and mounted. She set her lunch bag in the left basket and taking up the lead rope, pressed her legs into Daisy's sides causing her to trot.
 
"Ha! You embody a true warrior's spirit!" Bellowed Herja, chuckling loudly. With the horse so close, she took advantage of the situation by stepping just to her left side, halberd in her right, grabbing a handful of that luxurious mane, and swinging her body up in one smooth motion. She clamped her knees tightly to the angry horse, determined not to let it win. Realizing that the trees might pose a hazard, she bent forward over the horse's neck, and held on tight.
 
India bucked and writhed beneath Herja's weight. Of course, she could take it, but it was not something she was used to. All that metal and muscle. Neighing and snorting fiercely, she kicked at the air and swung her head from side to side. When the warrior did not budge from her back she lifted up a final time and threw herself onto her side, landing on the ground with a heavy thud.

"We need to find her." Alfric muttered, lifting his damp boots from the hearth and pulling them onto his feet.
 

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