The princess’s ears pricked at the gruff voice of the man who’d helped her up–back ridge? Waiting for a moment more, the princess kicked out her legs from beneath the table, bumping her head and jostling the surface as she attempted her less-than-graceful escape, crawling on all fours. It was in this slight tumult that some of the jewelry on the table fell to the ground before her, glittering silver against the dark and muddy ground.
It was as she crawled over it that she spotted a pendant necklace. Set in a silver caste, a dark blue gem cut in the shape of a teardrop sat in the middle, the silver hugging it eternally. Pausing, the mage got lost in the gem’s depths, jagged cuts and shining light reflected from within–though there was something else. The mage could’ve sworn she heard a whisper in her mind, something in Elder she couldn’t quite make out when she sat, transfixed, on the thing.
Only at a yell nearby that yanked the princess’s attention away, a knight throwing a cart up into the air, searching for her beneath it. With not a moment to spare, she took up the necklace from the ground and stuffed it in her bag, throwing her hood over her face and getting to her feet she walked quickly pushing past the vendor and running when she was behind the cover of a wooden building, until the barn came into sight where she’d boarded Thumbelina.
Tossing the saddle back on, Thumbelina gave an unappreciative huff, but Ysmay didn’t have time to address it. Securing the saddle, and her bag to the horse, she nearly threw herself onto it, the reins gripped tight in her hands, the two left the barn–at a trot. Ysmay knew if she were to run out at a full gallop she would’ve attracted the attention of the battalion who–she hoped–couldn’t recognize her horse.
She weaved Thumby along back-alleys and roads that were quieter, slightly picking up her pace when she was free of the village, anxious to get to the back ridge. Thumby huffed again, this time Ysmay had the wherewithal to respond. “Oh hush, you.” Gently patting the side of the horse’s neck. “We’ll find somewhere else you can rest, I promise.” Finished she, eyes scanning the road about her for the man from before.
She couldn’t quite place why she trusted the man from the market though, the more she pondered, the more thoughts surfaced–the first possibly being that he didn’t turn her in–he couldn’t truly be her enemy, then, could he?
Yells caught her ears even though the princess was now some distance away, she turned one last time to see vendors and common people alike calling in protest of these knights, who had utterly destroyed the market on the search for her. A pang of guilt twisted in her chest and left her tongue tasting sour.
All of those lives were hurt because of her.
With the groan, the princess turned back towards the road, pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes for a moment. “Fuck me,” she growled, pausing for a moment before opening her eyes and allowing her hand to fall back to the reins–though now, there was something decidedly different on the road before her.
In the distance, she swore she could’ve seen two riders side-by-side, one struck her as familiar. Slightly puzzled, and far enough away from the village, the princess placed to fingers in her mouth and blew out a high-pitched whistle, magically aiming it only at the riders before her.
Ryker wasn’t playing very nice with all the commotion happening around him. What had been a quick start was turning into a spot of trouble, for when he couldn’t see what was happening, his ears flattened to his head and he stopped and deadset refused to move in any way.
A few moments of cajoling and swearing and patting his hindquarters to get him going produced nothing, at least until the reins bopped against his neck. It sent the stallion over the edge with a frightened whinny and he bolted with his still cursing rider up around the bend of the road they were supposed to take and into the ditch next to it out of sight of the mess in the market and on the other side of the girl they were supposed to be meeting. As soon as he blooped into the stagnant runoff, he stopped again, his ears pinning closer to his head as if in complete rigid disgust.
“Really? Really.” Garret scolded the animal, turning to look over his shoulder first at Argent as he and Fel came up the road and then turning around in the saddle to face the one who had whistled toward them.
“Y’know, making loud noises in a time of paranoia, that ain’t the smartest thing to do.” he told her, scoffing at the fact the ordeal had caused his pipe to go out. He asked Argent as the boy came closer, “Know another way to get around all this?”
Argent shrugged, though in reality, the question wasn’t directed at him. While the older man worked to repack and relight his pipe, the black steed beneath him moved a bit one way down the road, swung around with the graceful gait of a dancing horse, and paced the other way. While the navigator was working on a new path, Garret returned his attention to the girl, puffing a few times before addressing her.
“So. Given the pomp and circumstance we seem to find ourselves in here, I’m going to say you’re our hunted princess.”
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