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Bregoware
An exhausted expression coating Eostre's face in a vague shadow, hardly even the whinnies and clatters indicating the nearness of horses stirred her from an almost blank existance. She wanted to sleep, and even liberally splashing her face with cold water hadn't removed the mental desire to shirk away. The task didn't scare her. It was simply the fade of adreneline.
In a few hours, I shall be more than awake enough for my own well-being, the woman reminded herself before guiding her dark horse to where all the other riders gathered.
She shivered. It was a cool morning, whispering of mild threats and distaste. Dismounting off of her ride, she steeled herself. Already having received a series of lectures, tearful farewells, and embraces, all she wanted to do by this point was just fit in. Scanning the others—it seemed she was the final arrival—they all looked so much younger in the morning light.
Fire always made expressions seem that much more intense, but now it was too strong of an awareness. They were all barely adults in some ways, yet fully grown in others. This would test that to the limits, she feared. Or perhaps more she didn't fear.
That could have been more dangerous than terror. Quickly tying her mount to a nearby pole, she raised her right hand in salute before moving towards the other riders. "Hail. Am I the final arrival, then?"
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