*The Verge of War* A Medieval Rp

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As the horse circles round for another go, Herja feinted right, then slipped in on her left again, dancing a well remembered, long rehersed move on the wild eyed, almost demon fast steed. Herja was determined to win, through the scrapes, bruises and minor contusions. Gripping her halberd in her right hand, she lifted herself up using her left and swung up once more in a smooth, quick motion, again gripping tightly and keeping low, but even more aware should the beast attempt to make her insides become outsides once again.
 
Azor sighed. He had to get back to the castle and give his report about his patrol, he didn't have time to help a sick kid find his horse and get to a dance. " well put on another jacket your obviously still cold. I'll go see if some of the villagers can help you find your horse"
 
Again?! India was positively outraged, infuriated. This woman thought she was so fast, so strong, so great. Lets see how she fares through this. India burst through the trees, galloping at unbelievable speed, her huge heart pumping as fast as her hooves. Faster and faster she raced, dodging branches and jumping hedges. In the distance she caught sight of lights, dancing in the nights sky like stars. She lowered her head, focused her gaze, and soon the lights were growing, bigger, brighter.

"Another jacket." Alfric repeated bitterly beneath his breath. What does he think I am, a kid?
He sighed and headed for the door.
"Lets get it over with then." He sniffed.
 
Herja squeezed her knees tightly, unrelenting. She clung with her left hand, keeping her head low, receiving a barrage of thin branches whipping across her head and shoulders, scraping along her back, tearing at the woolen layer held down by the straps of her breastplate.
" You are a proud warrior. You deserve a warrior worthy of your strength. I am she," boasted Herja, whooping with the sheer thrill of the sprint. The battle of wills surely would reach an end soon, she thought. With a monster horse like this, together they would be an unstoppable force!
 
(17)
Alfric sombrely followed Azor outside, the wind pulled at his cloak and sent a shiver down his spine. "Pull me up." He extended a hand to Azor.

India was going at full speed when she burst into the street, the stars now glowing windows and doorways. She skidded to a halt, her body heaving as she breathed, trying to catch her breath. She was not worn, not yet. Not yet.
 
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