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A large warhorse made his way carefully through the streets, placing his large hooves daintily before him, trying to avoid the crowds. The pale woman atop his broad back glanced through the lacing of bodies with an uninterested eye. She had recently arrived in this town and was still getting used to its rhythm and pace. There were times when the hustle and bustle excited her, others when it got on her nerves; today was a latter day. She had woken up with a headache and almost refused to leave her bed, a loud market square was the last place she wanted to be. But the angelic being’s food cupboard was growing bare and the stallion’s trough running low.
Groaning, she slouched forward on the soft saddle padding, pouting as she attempted in vain to block as much of the random noise out of her pounding head as possible. The slender young woman asked the steed to slow to a halt in front of a community hitching post. Throwing a leg over his neck, she slid off of his back to the cobblestone. She patted his sleek mahogany coat out of habit, untying his reins as she did so. With a quick gesture, she had the large animal hitched to the post. She paused at the saddlebags draped over his back to retrieve her coin purse. She turned on her heel and set off toward the farmer’s market, the spurs resting on the backs of her boots jingling merrily.
The stallion gave a dejected look as he watched the woman walk from him. Determined to regain her attention, he began scraping the cobblestone with an ironclad hoof, the feathers hanging from his tree-trunk legs swishing with the movement. Hearing her mount protest, the albino whipped around quickly and shot him a death glare, pointing at him accusingly.
“I am not in the mood right now, Ye’Dar,� she growled. The stud immediately halted his misbehavior and gave her a guilty look. Sighing, Gabriella continued to the stands of fresh fruits and grains. She jostled elbows with other people in the busy street, but soon made it to the cart of her picking. Pulling her knapsack off her back, she began filling it with apples, tomatoes, and potatoes; shooting the salesman a polite, if forced, smile. Exchanging currency for the items, she moved to yet another stand. She slid between two rather portly gentlemen to get to the grain vendor. Flashing another courteous grin, she requested ten pounds of barely and oat-grain. More money was handed out, Gabriella’s purse feeling lighter already. With a sigh, she hefted the heavy bag over her shoulder to join her knapsack.
She had to fight equally as hard to return to her horse, as she had to get away from him. At the sight of her, the muscular warhorse gave a shrill whinny. While this action didn’t do anything to help her headache, she always appreciated it. Making kissy noises at the masculine equine, she loaded up her saddlebags. She quickly untied him and led him to a less crowded area so she could mount up.
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