Daerian gracefully sled off the saddle before the corpse of her horse collapsed onto the ground, and dusted her tunic off. The heavy chainmail underneath the white wool clinked as she moved and crossed her arms on her chest.
"I should be asking you that in the first place, my lord. I live here." she replied, smiling seductively. Her eyes shimmered in the reflected light of sun. She felt great power in him, much similar to hers, but ancient, older than she was. A bloodthirsty soul like her own, one which feeds on blood and war.
"Why have you decided to slay my mount all at once?" asked she, bending towards her black horse's corpse, and pressed her hands onto the hole in his chest. She could feel his strength quickly passing into her own body, she drained the last remnants of warmth, and felt the life and power growing inside her. Every spilled blood was a blessing for her, she fed on it, and every wasted life was like a flame, adding to her spirit. The horse's blood covered the tips of her fingers, hudden underneath her gauntlets of heavy iron, and disappeared into thin air.
"I have not yet heard of a horse committing a crime." she laughed lightly, her voice like a fresh river, flowing on the stones in deep valleys between the mountains. Her hand arose to his shoulder and grabbed him softly. "Have you?"
She could feel his hunger, burning, stronger than hers, and thirsting for a slightly different food than hers, but in their essences, they were the same. She glanced at the couple of scimitars, crossed at her back.
"I... Am waiting, my lord."