Izrênna sat watching Deorlin on the ground. He was not well, she could see that, but she also knew that there was no way to force him to obey her. Although he was kind to her, he still did not have respect for her, at least not enough to speak to her truthfully of his pain. She looked at the bandage on his leg and hoped that the wound had not reopened. It would be pure idiocy based on pride if he did not let her know if it had. She sighed and patted the grey horse.
"What are we to do if we cannot make it?" she muttered into the horse's ear, "And what if Deorlin cannot go on? Should I turn back with him or push on without him?"
The horse merely turned her head and nuzzled Izrênna. Izrênna smiled and patted the horse, waiting for Deorlin to be ready.
When Deorlin was ready, Izrênna hefted him up onto the horse. She could tell that his leg was hurting him. She swung up behind them and the moved along for a bit more time.
When darkness fell, they made camp. Deorlin lay down, obviously in pain, while Izrênna bustled around, starting a fire and making dinner.
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"I think we dream so we don't have to be apart so long. If we're in each others dreams, we can be together all the time." - Hobbes of Calvin and Hobbes
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