(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]

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."