Hysaeda eyed her hands as they peeled off her gloves, something that looked awfully painful to do though no sounds of pain came. Perhaps taking off her gloves was a testament for the beginning of the rest of her life. He'd forgotten that she was still quite young in her years, only twenty-one, minuscule in comparison to his two hundred and fifty-six years. Now he really felt old. He had more experience than her in this kind of thing, and though he didn't exactly feel that he belonged anywhere more than the earth, he had his place among a clan. His father would die and he would take his place when the time came. But in that time he would suffer the company of the pale woman and her chestnut horse.
If he had a choice he wouldn't exactly be with her. If he had a say, he'd be alone. But then he realized he did have a say. He could have left her to die and suffer at the hands of her country that now hounded the both of them. He could almost feel the hands of Rale at this throat though he'd never seen the man. He could feel their presence approaching and that made him pressed ever harder on Atras to keep going. Steering the horse, he made sure his footing was stolid and infallible and easy to venture over. That made the ride a lot less bumpy and he found himself sitting much easier in the saddle.
"I've never heard of that before. But then I don't know much about the Fae anyway. At least today," he smiled at her, "I learned something new. So you can't lie, huh? That makes things simpler for me, but harder for us both. It is gong to be difficult then for us to manipulate the wiliness of slave traders. I fear I'm going to have to gain a pair of slave bracers for you. That will convince them better...but—" He didn't want to finish what he had to say due to the true nature of Umbraeon slave bracers. They were like most bracers in appearance, but they were enchanted articles of metal and did not need to be bound by chains. The bracers tapped into the fatigue resources of their wearer and prevented them from escape by draining all their bodily energy if they tried to run, or gain any distance away from their key. The further the wearer ran, the quicker they were drained and forced to collapse to the ground in exhaustion.
Listening to her explanation again of how she couldn't let him die made him roll his eyes. "So you've said. But I still believe it was an unnecessary promise. I suppose though," he started after some difficulty, clearing his throat from growing stress. "That I should, ahem, thank you for saving me. I don't...want to die, but I'm not afraid to." His voice was solemn once again and he refused to look at her. That was until she brought up something else.
He looked at her with clouded eyes and was unsure exactly how to answer that question. He couldn't say that he did hate her now, because the truth was, he was afraid he was starting to become accustomed to her presence, becoming somewhat fond of a person he should have killed the first night she captured him. But the answer slipped from his tongue before he could modify it. "No." Clearing his throat he was quick to add, "Not right now at least. Why do you care anyway if I hate your or not? Promises or not, I don't recall you liking me much either."
The sky was growing dark now as they had been riding for some time and Atras was sleek with horse sweat, his nostrils red and flaring from breathing hard. Hysaeda pulled Atras to a stop, gently just as a few fat drops of rain fell on his head. "Damn the gods," he muttered, looking up at the sky. "We should stop here. The rain will make bad footing for this Rale of yours and any people he has with him. That alcove right there should shield us some." He got off the horse and led him to the large jutting cliff-face that hung over a gentle slope. It looked very much like an opening to a cave but he could see nothing through the darkness except a stone wall. "We'll be okay here for some rest and respite."
