The horse wasfast; Simus urged it to go faster.
She’d be at the edge of the herds, more than like, well beyond the thea tents. If he circled the thea camp, he was sure to see her. The idea that he might not had his heart beating faster in his chest.
The morning sun inched up, the air cool and still. The herds were quiet, the horses concentrating on grazing, occasionally lifting their heads to watch him ride past. Another rise and he spotted the first of the gurtle herds, grazing steadily toward him.
He pulled his horse to a stop, patting its neck as it huffed at him, restive and ready to go. He scanned the area looking for any signs of humans.
“Muwapp.”
Simus turned his head to see a gurtle coming closer. Mounted on its back was a young girl, her hair pulled back and high on her head. He recognized her at once.
“Greetings, Warlord.” The young one pulled the gurtle to a halt a respectful distance away, and bowed her head to him. She was wearing leathers, and had a new wooden dagger and sword at her belt. She also had a small horn on a cord, which meant she was in charge of her herding group.
“Pive.” Simus gave her a nod. “I see you have won back your weapons.”
Pive straightened, clearly pleased. But her face remained serious. “Yes, Warlord. May I be of service to you?”
Her gurtle started to graze, looking for the best grass.
“Have you seen a warrior collecting fuel?” Simus asked. “She has tattoos on her shoulders—”
“Yes,” Pive said, nodding. “We are keeping close watch on her. She is a warrior-priestess and not to be trusted.”
Simus drew a breath, looking into the child’s eyes. A child only repeating what she had been told.
“This one can be trusted,” Simus said. “Take me to her.”
“As you wish, Warlord,” Pive said, tugging on the reins of her gurtle, and turning it back toward the herd. “Hup, hup” she told her mount.
“MUWAAAAP,” the gurtle protested, but did as it was bid.
Pive plunged into the herd, and the other gurtles moved aside, protesting as they shifted to one side or another. Simus nudged his horse to follow.
Pive angled off, toward another rise. There were other children scattered about, watching over the herds. Not that gurtles took much tending, but it was a common task given to younger children who had not earned their first metal weapons. Simus could remember his days of gurtle tending, not to mention the gathering of fuel for the fires.
They topped the rise, and Simus spotted her, surrounded by a ‘guard’ of children. Her horse grazed nearby, with just a plain saddle, and straps for carrying baskets.
The tightness in Simus’s chest eased. “My thanks,” he said to Pive and urged his horse forward at a faster pace, causing the gurtles to raise a storm of protest.
Simus saw Snowfall raise her head at the sound. She watched as he approached, her face blank and expressionless.
She watched asSimus urged his horse down the rise and headed toward her.
Her heart sped up, and she lowered her gaze to the basket in her hands.
She’d doubted he’d come. After all, she’d lost the challenge. Her duties were now no more than an ordinary warrior’s. His was the role of the Warlord. He should be gathering his warriors and aiding to raise the Council tent this morning, as Essa had commanded.
But her heart had dared hope.
And now that he was here, she found herself torn between joy and a terrible trembling in her bones. It felt as if she had always known that Simus of the Hawk’s loyalty, once given, was absolute. But she didn’t understand where that knowledge came from. That trust. It thrilled and frightened at the same time.
But her heart ached for the one truth she knew well. She’d failed him. She could still serve, but not at his side, as she’d come to wish.
How to face him? How to admit—
But there was no delay, no escape. His horse pounded up, and she lifted her eyes to meet his.
Simus galloped close,and then slid from his saddle. “Snowfall,” he said, and didn’t try to hide his relief.