A Gathering Of Stones

6

Morning. Early. Frost crunching underfoot, whitening every surface.

Ready to start, saddle and packs in place, the ponies are huddled next to the fire, lipping up piles of corn set out for them, tails switching at half dormant blackflies. When the two people speak, they puff out white plumes of frozen breath.

Bulky with her layers of clothing, tendrils of soft brown hair curling from under her knitted hat, the girl stood with her fists on her hips, glaring at Danny Blue. “I don’t give spit for your blasted vanity, man. Either climb in that saddle or get the hell out of here. I don’t care where.”

The Daniel phasma being off somewhere or still asleep, the Ahzurdan phasma seized control of the body; hating his weakness, hating her for her strength, resenting her because she’d saved all their lives and laid that burden of gratitude on them, Danny Blue found himself wanting to smash that imperious young face. He wanted to beat her and by beating her, batter in her all the other women who’d dominated and rejected Ahzurdan, his whining mother and Brann chief among them. Lips pressed together, he swung into the saddle. He felt like a fool; even with the stirrups lowered as far as they’d go, his knees stuck out ridiculously, he thought he looked like a clown in a child’s chair. He pulled the blanket about his shoulders and looked around. The odd little beast that traveled with Korimenei went running past and scrambled onto the packs; Korimenei tossed the lead rein into the small black paws.

She strode past him without looking at him and set off along the Road. He toed his pony into a brisk walk, heard the pack pony snort, then start after him.