Everything was chaos, and Katelyn found herself fearing for her life as arrows flew, men shouted, and animals screamed in fright. Her father's gelding spooked beneath her as a Knight galloped by with his shield and sword at the ready, and she fought for control as he reared and bucked beneath her. She clutched at his mane and tugged at the reins, trying to pull him around and calm him. He lurched beneath her and she looked around wildly, trying to find a familiar face.
Before the gelding whipped around in another wild circle she saw an arrow arc from the trees and smash into Marrick. The scream that bubbled up from her clenched stomach died in her throat as the horse beneath her gave one final heave and threw her over his head and onto the ground.
Hooves thundered past her and Katelyn flinched in fright, curling into a ball and covering her head as the world spun and blurred. The sound of bleating animals filled her ears and took over her senses, their fear overwhelming her and choking her. Tears filled her ears and she clenched them shut as she lay there protecting herself from the cattle being driven by. She wasn't sure how long she was prone on the ground before a set of firm hands grabbed her and yanked her to her feet.
Kat felt unsteady, and her legs buckled when they were beneath her again.
"On your feet, girl!" a gruff voice barked, and the hands shook her.
She opened her eyes in fright and looked around, dazed and sore. An old face looked down at her, weathered and worried. It was the old man from the wagon. He helped her get her feet beneath her one more time and this time they stood firm. He held her out at arm's length and gave her a once over.
"Alright?" he asked, and she nodded slowly.
He'd pulled her to the side of the road away from the herd, and she looked around. Her horse stood tied to his wagon that was currently abandoned. She glared at the animal, but the old man shook his head.
"Can't expect a stock horse to perform in battle, lass."
The words cut her anger like a hot knife through butter, and she felt herself deflate. He was right. The old man helped her back to the wagon and to her father's horse, and held the reins after untying the beast while she made the effort to climb back into the saddle. Her hip protested and her head was pounding, but she couldn't just stand around. Kat definitely couldn't just ride in that wagon either. They other drovers needed help.
He handed her the reins and they exchanged quick smiles before he stepped back into his driver's seat and she rode back to the others at a quick trot. She was quickly put back to work rounding up a few more strays while the Squires and Knights handled the bandits, and it didn't give her any time to search for Marrick. Fresh tears burned her throat and stung her eyes, and as she chased a young bull down they tumbled down her cheeks and blurred her vision. The horse could handle most of it on his own without needing more than a general direction, so she let him and just hung on.
By the time the animals were back under control the battle seemed to be pretty much over--the Order victorious. Katelyn wiped away her tears and sat light dead weight in the saddle, letting her gelding following the back of the herd at a placid trot. The last of them were now crossing the bridge and fording the river, so Kat reined her horse to a stop so she could try to compose herself. It wouldn't do to have anyone see her this way. But that plan went out the window when she saw Garland riding up.
As arrow stuck out of his arm and he looked pale. Her eyes grew round with fright at the sight of him, and she reached out to him.
"Gods, come here. Of course, let me help you," she blurted quickly, and urged her horse a little closer to his stallion.
Her stomach churned at the sight of the red blood dripping from the wound, and hesitated when her fingers moved to grasp the arrow. A shudder ran through her and she closed her eyes when she felt the smooth wood and the bristly fletching. Katelyn gripped it tightly and gave a rough yank. It was sure to be painful--even more so because she'd never done such a thing. She felt it wiggle against his flesh and heard the wet sucking sound of blood. Bile rose in her throat as the projectile came free, and she instantly dropped it in disgust.
Her face was twisted in distaste when she finally opened her eyes again, and she made it a point not to look at her work.
"I'm sorry," she apologized miserably, knowing she'd caused him more pain.
She looked beyond him then, back to the bridge. They were rounding up a few criminals on the other side of the river, and someone else was riding across the bridge. Her brows furrowed and she twisted her horse around to get a better look. Kat's eyes swelled and fresh tears welled up. Marrick was riding hunched in the saddle, even paler than usual. The dark haired Squire had been injured during the fight--she'd seen him shot before she was thrown from the saddle. As he approached the glint of red blood shone on his face in the sunlight, and her stomach clenched.
Katelyn kicked her horse into a gallop without warning, steering him toward her friend and his massive mare.
"Marrick!" she yelled above the thunder of hooves, drawing his attention to her.
Her painted gelding clattered up the road to him and she drew him in hard. He skidded and stumbled out of his fast approach and stopped so suddenly that his rear nearly drug the ground. Both of them were breathing heavily--him from exertion and her from frightened worry.
"Are you alright?" she half-growled with the embarrassing effort with which she fought the tears in her eyes.
Katelyn knew it was a stupid question, but it was an instinctive one.
Before the gelding whipped around in another wild circle she saw an arrow arc from the trees and smash into Marrick. The scream that bubbled up from her clenched stomach died in her throat as the horse beneath her gave one final heave and threw her over his head and onto the ground.
Hooves thundered past her and Katelyn flinched in fright, curling into a ball and covering her head as the world spun and blurred. The sound of bleating animals filled her ears and took over her senses, their fear overwhelming her and choking her. Tears filled her ears and she clenched them shut as she lay there protecting herself from the cattle being driven by. She wasn't sure how long she was prone on the ground before a set of firm hands grabbed her and yanked her to her feet.
Kat felt unsteady, and her legs buckled when they were beneath her again.
"On your feet, girl!" a gruff voice barked, and the hands shook her.
She opened her eyes in fright and looked around, dazed and sore. An old face looked down at her, weathered and worried. It was the old man from the wagon. He helped her get her feet beneath her one more time and this time they stood firm. He held her out at arm's length and gave her a once over.
"Alright?" he asked, and she nodded slowly.
He'd pulled her to the side of the road away from the herd, and she looked around. Her horse stood tied to his wagon that was currently abandoned. She glared at the animal, but the old man shook his head.
"Can't expect a stock horse to perform in battle, lass."
The words cut her anger like a hot knife through butter, and she felt herself deflate. He was right. The old man helped her back to the wagon and to her father's horse, and held the reins after untying the beast while she made the effort to climb back into the saddle. Her hip protested and her head was pounding, but she couldn't just stand around. Kat definitely couldn't just ride in that wagon either. They other drovers needed help.
He handed her the reins and they exchanged quick smiles before he stepped back into his driver's seat and she rode back to the others at a quick trot. She was quickly put back to work rounding up a few more strays while the Squires and Knights handled the bandits, and it didn't give her any time to search for Marrick. Fresh tears burned her throat and stung her eyes, and as she chased a young bull down they tumbled down her cheeks and blurred her vision. The horse could handle most of it on his own without needing more than a general direction, so she let him and just hung on.
By the time the animals were back under control the battle seemed to be pretty much over--the Order victorious. Katelyn wiped away her tears and sat light dead weight in the saddle, letting her gelding following the back of the herd at a placid trot. The last of them were now crossing the bridge and fording the river, so Kat reined her horse to a stop so she could try to compose herself. It wouldn't do to have anyone see her this way. But that plan went out the window when she saw Garland riding up.
As arrow stuck out of his arm and he looked pale. Her eyes grew round with fright at the sight of him, and she reached out to him.
"Gods, come here. Of course, let me help you," she blurted quickly, and urged her horse a little closer to his stallion.
Her stomach churned at the sight of the red blood dripping from the wound, and hesitated when her fingers moved to grasp the arrow. A shudder ran through her and she closed her eyes when she felt the smooth wood and the bristly fletching. Katelyn gripped it tightly and gave a rough yank. It was sure to be painful--even more so because she'd never done such a thing. She felt it wiggle against his flesh and heard the wet sucking sound of blood. Bile rose in her throat as the projectile came free, and she instantly dropped it in disgust.
Her face was twisted in distaste when she finally opened her eyes again, and she made it a point not to look at her work.
"I'm sorry," she apologized miserably, knowing she'd caused him more pain.
She looked beyond him then, back to the bridge. They were rounding up a few criminals on the other side of the river, and someone else was riding across the bridge. Her brows furrowed and she twisted her horse around to get a better look. Kat's eyes swelled and fresh tears welled up. Marrick was riding hunched in the saddle, even paler than usual. The dark haired Squire had been injured during the fight--she'd seen him shot before she was thrown from the saddle. As he approached the glint of red blood shone on his face in the sunlight, and her stomach clenched.
Katelyn kicked her horse into a gallop without warning, steering him toward her friend and his massive mare.
"Marrick!" she yelled above the thunder of hooves, drawing his attention to her.
Her painted gelding clattered up the road to him and she drew him in hard. He skidded and stumbled out of his fast approach and stopped so suddenly that his rear nearly drug the ground. Both of them were breathing heavily--him from exertion and her from frightened worry.
"Are you alright?" she half-growled with the embarrassing effort with which she fought the tears in her eyes.
Katelyn knew it was a stupid question, but it was an instinctive one.
