-Story set about two years ago-
The daylight dwindled over the dry earth as the sound of hooves pattering away on what was left of a road. Sweat dripped down the side of her face as the last remains of daylight faded away. Cool air began to blow taking up puffs of dust and forcing what was left of trees, which at this point were merely branches with a handful of dull leaves clinging to them, shiver in the dim light. Reaching one hand out, she let her fingers rest on the shaggy pelt of the steed wishing for her own. It was dust covered and dirty, it's fur dulled into a brown hue even though beneath all the dust was a pretty black and white coat.
Allowing her eyes to follow the rope tied to the saddle of the steed, Cisel looked back to see the haggard older man walking behind them, his head dipping downwards. He looked just as tired as she felt. She could still smell the dried blood sticking to the man's forehead where a club had bashed him and almost felt the sting in his ribs where a knee had landed. If she wasn't careful, she could find herself succumbing to the tired man's suffering as he was forced to walk hands bound in front of him across these dried out lands. Instead, she forced a wall up between her and the man who stumbled behind them. Those thoughts did not belong in her head so she built four little walls and shoved them in, sealing them off with a lid.
"What ye lookin at, Rowan?" A man from the other side of the horse Cisel walked along asked. Shifting her gaze to him, she watched him as he unrolled a few pages. He met her gaze as she blatantly stared at him. A grin formed across his face dabbing dots of dimples the side of his bearded face that she could see beneath the dusty hood, "What you want lad?"
Cisel stared at him blankly. All amusement drained from her hallow face. The man looked back to his papers before snapping his gaze back at her, "Ye still lookin!" He leaned across the back of the horse and held out one of the papers overtop the packs the horse carried, "Try starin at this, not me."
Lowering her eyes to the paper, she could see the pretty font the notice had been written in; however, the font made it very hard for her to make out the words. Not that she was ever good at making out the words in any font. She eyed the drawn image and moved her eyes back to the man, "Oh right, ye ain't smart enough to be reading. I forgot." The man barked out laughing and pulled the page away, turning his head to look towards the broader shouldered man in front of them, "He's so dumb, he ain't even smart enough ta talk."
The broad shouldered man hesitated and glanced behind him at the scrawnier counterpart. "Shut up, Oliver. Not all folks screech like pigs like you do."
"And there's Oscar's charming personality," Oliver muttered under his breath.
Finally pulling her gaze away from Oliver, she quickened her pace to walk beside the horse. Her hand reached out to rest on his thick neck as she peered around him to Oscar. Out of the corner of his eye, Oscar saw the young woman and turned his head to meet her gaze. He did not smile or even nod to her in acknowledgement. Simply, the two stared at one another eye to eye before he said in a broader tone, "We're here."
The men stopped and Cisel turned her gaze down to the ruins of what once was a great city now half buried in dust and dulled by grime. Large stairs ascended up the hillside to a broad gate of a half fallen down wall. Once they stepped through the threshold of the gate, Cisel looked into the even more depressing facade of a village. In her mind she could envision it being a great city with large towers stretching up into the sky and lush gardens. She even dotted the paths with pretty flowers in her imagination, but now it was anything but as everything seemed to have been drained of color and coated in dirt.
Oscar drew her attention back as he nodded to the two other men of their group, "Oliver, Brooker, ye know where ta take the captive. Make sure ye get the full pay. Don' let them talk ye down." He then turned his gaze back to Cisel and nods to her, "Rowan, come with me."
Watching Oliver and Brooker walk off, Cisel turned to follow Oscar as he ducked into one of the makeshift rooms of the town. Bedrolls lined the ground and sat on top benches making makeshift beds as a small fire built in the midst of the room illuminated most of the corners. A younger lad sat on one of the bedrolls, seeming to recognize Oscar the moment he stepped in. Popping up, he moved out to clasp forearms with the broad shouldered man, beaming at him, "Oscar, i's nice ta see you made it."
"Aye, you too Woods," Oscar responded as he kneeled down beside the bedroll. Throwing a hand over his shoulder, he gestured into Cisel's direction, "I don' think ye've met this addition. The lad's name is Rowan. Young thing. Ain't much o' a talker but got a good fightin hand."
Woods lifted his gaze to meet Cisel's before offering her a nod and looking back to Oscar, "Aye, I bet he is. Now, about them horses ye wanted. Was it three, aye?"
Oscar nodded, "Aye, although we got a new group member since then. You don' happen ta have a fourth?"
Woods shook his head, "Was hard obtainin these three as it was. The farmer that owned them only had the three."
Turning his head, Oscar looked back to Cisel for a moment before he said, "The lad's scrawny enough ta ride ol' Connor." He then looked back to Woods and shifted to a standing position, "Ye fine with us keepin our current horse instead o' tradin him in like we originally agreed."
"Going to have ta charge ye more in that case," Woods responded as he stood with Oscar. "Otherwise, nay. Sounds fine with me."
With a curt nod, Oscar turned to look to Cisel, "That's comin out of yer pay, Rowan." He said gruffly as he shouldered past Cisel.
Following behind him, Woods made the way to the door leading Oscar out towards whatever direction of the town the horses must have been held. Letting out a sigh, Cisel rubbed her forehead, frizzing up the shortly chopped hair she had. She turned to see a young girl who was sitting in the small housing area staring at her and raised a brow in confusion. The girl looked away and giggled causing a slight flush to cross her face. Cisel hadn't grown accustomed to the way people were seeing her now. Turning away from the girl, Cisel covered her face with a hand and rushed out the door.
The new horses were much larger than the old one the group had. Their fur were slicker, silkier, and darker in hue. Oscar's was the largest of the steeds with broad shoulders that matched its riders while Oliver's was fittingly the most irritable of the collective. Climbing atop his steed, Brooker grinned and shifted his weight back. His long brown hair curled around his face as the bangs were loosely tied up. His face stubbly with the young growing hairs. Cisel reached up to rest a hand on the side of the Connor's face in front of her as Brooker laughed. Although Connor was noticably smaller than the other three steeds and much less polished in pelt, Cisel felt a kinship to him.
"Oh, it's goin ta be great having to not have to walk all over the place," Brooker said gleefully, leaning forward on the neck of the horse.
Cisel nodded, rubbing her knuckles into Connor's pelt, "Aye."
"I'm sure Connor'll be able ta keep up with these ones," Brooker spoke up, catching Cisel's attention.
Directing her gaze up to him, she offered him a half smile, "Connor don' got ta carry as much weight." She commented in a somewhat low, muffled tone.
Brooker raised a brow and cocked his head to the side, "Now that's the longest sentence I think I've ever heard ye speak. What gives?"
Shrugging a bit, Cisel turned her gaze away and moved her hand to pet the nose of Connor. The horse pushed his nose back into her hand reminding Cisel of the old speckled horse she use to wide when she was a kid. From behind Cisel heard the approach of Oscar and Oliver. She didn't need to look back to know the two were already prepared to head off. They never seemed to like to spend a few days relaxing after a job. You don't make as much coin relaxing.
"Get on your horses," Oscar grunted out as Cisel could hear a snort escape him from the strain of climbing on top of his new steed.
It felt like forever since Cisel had pulled herself onto a horse's back and the moment she did, it felt perfectly right.
