(no subject)

[sai_delgado]

It's a warm afternoon in early spring, and Susan is outside leaning on the paddock fence. She's absently chewing on a piece of sweetgrass as she watches the horses.

It's been a month since she first ventured back into the bar after the deep winter's bout with pneumonia, and although she'd taken up as much of her work as she could as soon as she could, this is the first day that it's been nice enough for her to feel comfortable being outside for a while, just relaxing.

Mayhap that's while a smile curves her lips as she watches Melina spread her wings and play a game of hop-tag with Solon.

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[honest-johns.livejournal.com]

The corners of Alain's eyes crinkle in a supressed smile when she makes a face at him.

Then, a small smile at her, sidelong.

"Too young for it anyro', those two."

The thought of flying has never captured his imagination overmuch, but he knows that for Susan that's not so.

[sai_delgado]

A flicker of irritation sparks in the fog-gray eyes as she slants a look at him.

"I kennit. I weren't suggesting that we try training them into it now."

As quickly as it's there, it's gone, and Susan sighs, putting both hands over her eyes for a moment as she rubs her forehead.

"... cry your pardon, Alain. There's no reason for me to be snappish at thee."

[honest-johns.livejournal.com]

He presses her shoulder lightly with a hand, his face softening.

Understanding, and reassurance.

Being sick this long, and unable to do her work beyond rosters and a bit of tack-mending -- it's enough to drive anyone to snappishness, and in her place he'd be worse.

[sai_delgado]

Little things, all of them-- with people ready and insistent on lending a hand whenever she even looked like thinking of much harder work-- it's a wonder she's not fretted herself into a state with sheer nervous energy.

And it's a sign of just how sick she'd been that she hasn't, mayhap.

But she's not sick now, and it's with impulsive determination that Susan says,

"I'm going to take Kiseki out for a ride, I think."

The first such since she were caught in the snowstorm that started this whole mess.

[honest-johns.livejournal.com]

"Aye?"

Alain slants a glance at her. It's not overtly weighing; covertly it is, of course, and she undoubtedly knows it, but he keeps his face and voice mild.

"Caspian gave him a run earlier. He'd like a short pasear around the trails to finish the day, I wot."

[sai_delgado]

"Do'ee say so?" Susan smiles sweetly at him, lifting her chin as she does, and the stubborn set to it is clear. "Then I'd best take another out, one who could use the exercise more. Mayhap Mal's Tequila."

A beat, and knowing his concern, she relents just enough to say,

"Thee could ride out with me, an'ye like. Mithros hasn't been tended so yet, I wot."

She knows perfectly well that Alain tends to prefer the chestnut gelding for his strength and speed, and her smile is bright and winning-- and a touch hopeful, mayhap.

[honest-johns.livejournal.com]

Alain eyes her for a minute, and the stubborn set of her jaw.

Then, a small smile, as he gives in on at least this point. "Nay, I'd meant to take him out later. They could both use the ride."

And this way, he can keep an eye on her for overtiredness. He doesn't say that part.

[sai_delgado]

And oh, but Susan beams at him.

"It'll be the best sort of work, Alain, say true, on such a pretty day. I'll go bring out the tack, if ye'd lead them in--"

Even as she speaks, she's turning to head into the stable.

[honest-johns.livejournal.com]

Alain's gaze sharpens on her back, as she goes.

She was strong and healthy before, and she's recovering well. But she's still recovering, and lung-sickness such as that takes a long time to leave fully.

"I'll fetch my saddle," he calls, as he moves towards the paddock gate. "It's on the high hook." Two lead ropes are slung over his shoulder already; he was in the middle of chores when he came out.

[sai_delgado]

"All right," she agrees, and disappears into the stable.

Shortly afterward, she comes back, bearing the tack that she'll need for riding. Her saddle is braced and balanced on her hip.

She's handling it well enough, and smiles at him as she drapes it over the fence-rail.

[honest-johns.livejournal.com]

Alain smiles back, holding both lead ropes in one hand to close the paddock gate. Mithros and Tequila, who get along well enough to be pastured together, nose at his shoulders in hopes of suddenly appearing sugar cubes.

Gate securely latched, he leads both horses over to where Susan is standing.

[sai_delgado]

"Ye ken well enough how to handle a horse," she tells him mischievously, holding out her hand for Tequila's lead.

"I'll let ye see to Mithros, while I take care of this one here."

[honest-johns.livejournal.com]

"Well enough," he answers cheerfully, but deposits both lead ropes in her hand anyway.

"Just let me go for the saddle."

[sai_delgado]

"Go on with ye then," she says with clear affection, and turns to fasten Mithros's rope to a fencepost. She gives the chestnut a scratch and a fond pat, then leads Tequila a bit away, tying him along the rail where she's hung the rest of the tack.

"Nah, then, thee dear creature," she soothes him, running her hands lightly over his neck and back to reaccustom him to her presence. "Thee remember me, aye? Thee kennit it that it's Susan?"

Gently, she checks the scars on his barrel, watching him for any sign. Tequila shudders all over, and stamps a rear hoof, but stands for it.

"Thee very dear," she murmurs, placing saddle pad and then slowly and carefully setting the saddle on his back and beginning to fasten the girth with care.

[honest-johns.livejournal.com]

Alain, meanwhile, has disappeared into the stable. He returns shortly after, bearing saddle and saddle blanket.

Making his way across the grass, he settles the saddle on Mithros's back. The big gelding doesn't have Tequila's bad memories to give him trouble; it's a quick process to saddle and bridle him, leaving the lead rope looped around a fencepost, and recheck the girth.

[sai_delgado]

Susan works steadily and carefully, with a constant murmur of assurance to the Waler, finishing at almost the same time Alain does.

She unties him from the rail and gathers herself, preparing to mount.

[honest-johns.livejournal.com]

Alain, letting the saddle flap fall back over the girth, glances at her. "Want a leg up?"

[sai_delgado]

She stops, looking at him with a slight smile.

Courtesy or concern or both -- knowing Alain, it's likely both, and she's not inclined to insult either cause.

"It's kind of thee to offer," Susan says. "Aye, then, if ye're willing?"

[honest-johns.livejournal.com]

He returns the smile, and hitches Mithros's reins loosely over the fence. "Of course."

He's strong, and ill or not Susan's been a-horseback since she was tiny; she settles lightly into the saddle, and in short order Alain has followed suit and is pivoting Mithros away from the fence.

[sai_delgado]

She's waiting for him a few steps away, smiling. Tequila's gathered and ready under her hand and balance; Susan tends to ride him with as little heel-guidance as can be used.

"Do'ee want the lake flats, or a forest-trail?"

[honest-johns.livejournal.com]

Alain shrugs. "It's naught to me. Your ride, Sue -- thee can choose."

[sai_delgado]

"Forest," she says decisively, and urges Tequila toward the far side of the pasture. "There's a trail there I've been wanting to ride, to see where it leads, do'ee ken?"

She's never quite certain how it is that sometimes trails keep appearing in and out of the forested area, but Susan's confident that her sense of direction's fair enough to find her way back toward the lake before getting too deep in, if it looks to be dangerous.

[honest-johns.livejournal.com]

"Aye?" He thinks he has an idea which; there are only so many new. After all this time he's almost gotten over his faint unease at the way they appear.

He nudges Mithros to follow Tequila, and settles back into his saddle with a smile. "Lead on, then, do ya."

[sai_delgado]

She beams at him, and then sets her heels firmly down in the stirrups as she urges Tequila forward -- not for him would she ever put a goad to his side, nay never.

He responds beautifully, moving from walk to trot easily, and then to gentle canter over the cleared ground before the trees.

[honest-johns.livejournal.com]

Mithros snorts and tosses his head as they set out, restive with the combination of spring air and a morning in the stalls. "Hush thee," Alain chides in mild exasperation as the gelding jigs sideways, and soothes him with soft hands on the rein.

Mithros is well-trained and well-behaved, though, high spirits or not. Well before they reach the trees' edge he's cantering obediently beside Tequila, restricting himself to the occasional head-toss.

[sai_delgado]

Susan looks over to Alain as they draw near the forest path, which here is surprisingly wide -- enough for two to pass abreast, oh aye.

"For a new path, it's well-kept, say true," she tells him.

Tequila snorts as they pass under the shadow of the trees, but seemingly more out of spirit than aught else.

[honest-johns.livejournal.com]

Alain nods, making a small noise of agreement.

(And doesn't probe too closely at the question of how, or who maintains it, or where it came from that it's a tidy well-traveled path tht was nowhere to be seen a few weeks ago. Alain has been at Milliways long enough -- and in a world that was moving on before that -- to pick his philosophical battles.)

"Someone else has the same notion," he adds a few minutes later, pointing to a faint indentation in the dirt ahead. "A few days back. Caspian, maybe -- he spoke of exploring."