10th of fall, 516 a.v.early morning
“The weather’s nicer today than I would have thought. I’ve been told that Lhavit falls and winters are harsher than those down south, but I’ve never had the chance to judge for myself. Lhavitian my whole life, y’know?”
Colt looked carefully over the okomo’s saddle, trying to remember if it was different from a horse’s saddle or not. It was certainly not an yvas, but an yvas wasn’t exactly a saddle, either; what was before him certainly had the basic shape of a saddle, although it was a bit narrower than he was used to.
“You’re from down south, aren’t you? You’ve that look about you. Darker skin, sort of, but more like you’ve spent a lot of time under the sun. I’ve noticed that people from warmer places are like that. Except the Vantha have darker skin of a sort, and they spend their lives in ice.”
The okomo Colt was examining looked at him curiously. The giant antelopes of Lhavit seemed to have some sort of intelligence that surpassed mere animals; the look in their eyes was not unlike that of striders, although their behavior was not at all like striders. Okomos didn’t seem to have the same bonds that––
––Colt clenched his teeth and took a breath. Thoughts of thundering hooves and black horsehair were forcibly silenced; he couldn’t afford to deal with those. Not while he was in company.
As if sensing his distress, the okomo nuzzled his hand gently. Friendship. Short, simple, calming, and Colt suddenly realized that worrying over the saddle was pointless. He knew how to ride, but more importantly, the okomo knew how to be ridden. He would be alright.
“There are a few Vanthas in the city, and they’re usually a bit tan. Not like the Inarta; those birds are as pale as they come. And they don’t always tan in the sun; they’ll freckle. You know, little spots? We get a lot of different sorts here in Lhavit. All over Mizahar, people come to see us. I mean, you made your way here, didn’t you?”
Colt hoisted himself into the saddle with practiced smoothness, ignoring the stirrup entirely and settling into the seat. The okomo shifted under him, tossing its head with a soft whuff, but didn’t fuss. The Witch picked up the reins, doing his best to remember how they worked. He had used them once a very long time ago, but they were something he was not at all used to.
Snow, spurred by the sight of her partner in a saddle––any saddle––perked up from where she had been lying patiently against a rock. She knew that they would be moving any moment.
Experimentally, Colt tugged on one rein. Sensing that he was merely testing and not quite ready to actually go anywhere, the okomo allowed its head to be turned. He tested the other rein, and the okomo turned the other way. He hesitantly squeezed his legs around the creature’s sides, and the okomo took three slow steps before going still.
“Come on then, where are you from? There’s some talk at the Jugged Hare, but it’s all just talk. They say you came here with Svefra sailing north, but the only things down south are Dhani and Myrians. You don’t look like either. Sure, you’re big enough to be Myrian, but you don’t have that look about you, like you want to kill everything that moves. Where are you actually from?”
Confident in his ability to ride, Colt turned to his companion––already on his own okomo––and pointed down to mountain.
“We go,” Colt said. “Time now. No stay here.”
Larry Vertessa gawked for a moment, as if stunned that Colt was actually capable of speaking, then grinned and nodded.
“Good to know you actually can talk Common. Thought I’d have to teach you the whole language myself, with how much you use it. Ready to move, then?”
Colt merely nodded, signalled for Snow to follow and then the lot of them set off down the mountain.
