A Leisurely Stroll (Arthur)

[Caitylin Roe]

"Get that horse out of here!" Amus shouted, pointing at Morock. His face a deep shade between purple and red.

It was the third time this week that the white stallion Morock had broken loose from his paddock and gone after the Freisian stallion, Kodan. There was just something about Kodan getting to breed with most of the mares that set Morock off. It couldn't possibly have anything to do with the bulky, black stallion muscling in on Morock's mares. Certainly that wasn't the case. After all, Amus had decided that Kodan would sire most of the young this year and who could possibly argue with him?

With the help of the stable's blacksmith Cat dragged Morock over to the hitching post and quickly gathered the tack she would need. Morock's tack was actually pretty fancy, but not nearly as elaborate as that of the knights or the royal family. It was simply marginally more beautiful than that of the other horses at the stable. Amus liked to show Morock off as often as possible, even when he was mad at him.

It took her a little more time than usual to get the horse saddled. He tossed his head at every turn and blew out his stomach to keep her from tightening the girth. She was about ready to kill him herself by the time she was done. She walked him toward the mounting block, casually pulling the girth tighter on the way when the walking caused him to breath. He squealed and rolled his eyes at the insult of it all, but she ignored him.

Homin, the blacksmith, held the reins for her while she snaked into the saddle before Morock could shy away from the block. A slight nudge of her heel and he kicked his feet behind him. The second Homin let go, the horse shot straight for Kodan's pasture.

Cat yanked the reins, forcing him into a turn. He spun in a few circles before his ears went back, telling her he was finally listening to her. She let him out of the loop and urged him away from the barn. He snorted, trotting just a little too hotly out into the city. People jumped aside as the horse and his rider surged through, heading for the gate and the open air that lay beyond it.

Once they were outside, Cat loosened up and let Morock go. The earth flew by beneath him as he opened up into a full gallop. In no time, they had left the city far behind. It's was what Cat lived for. This was the only release she got, just like it was the only release for Morock. This was one of the reasons she was the only one Morock hadn't thrown (yet at least). They had a connection, a mutual need to bolt down the trail as fast as the wind and gravity would let them. She'd heard once that foxes were creatures of air and surely that was true of horses as well.

If she'd had the money, she might've bought Morock from Amus. It wasn't like he wouldn't still stay there while she worked and he'd get the chance to charge her for boarding as well as her rent while still using the stallion as a sire. Too bad he didn't pay her nearly enough to save up for the horse.

The two of them had cleared miles of forests before Morock chose to slow, his breath coming ragged through flared nostrils. Cat leaned back in the saddle as he eased into a trot and, finally, a walk. The woods were unseasonably warm today, but Cat didn't mind and neither did Morock.

Blowing out a breath, Cat patted the horse's neck. He was wet with sweat, though clearly not entirely winded. She guided him towards a stream ahead of them and let him bend to take a drink. The day was peaceful. Quiet. Actually, it was too quiet. Cat stiffened in the saddle, her insufficient human ears straining to hear any sound. There is no creepier feeling than a silent forest, like the wood is holding its breath, hoping no one will find it.

Morock lifted his head, water dripping from his chin. His ears swiveled back and forth and his eyes were wide. His nostrils flared, but this time it wasn't from exhaustion. Clicking her tongue, Cat got the horse moving at a quick trot and turned him back towards the safety of Camelot.

They didn't get far before another horse and rider steped out in front of their path. Morock snorted and hopped a bit in frustration from the sudden stop. Cait's eyes grew wide as another man and horse slid onto the path behind them. Another popped out on their right and a man on the ground emerged to their left. Morock rolled his head, chewing nervously on the bit while he shifted his feet.

"That's an awfully nice horse you've got there," the man in front of her csaid. The darkness in his eyes as he smiled at her made her feel very uncomfortable. "I wonder how exactly you came by him."

"I didn't steal him," Cat said nervously.

This situation screamed bad news. Her eyes flickered between the men, settling just beyond the man on foot. If she could get past him without being grabbed, she and Morock would have a chance at escape. She knew the white stallion was fast and sure footed. With hope, their horses wouldn't be.

"What's the matter? We ain't gonna hurt ya." But his eyes said differently.

Cat kicked Morock and the horse jumped towards the man on foot. He yelped and dodged to one side. Yes! They were free! Morock opened up full tilt, launching over fallen logs as they crashed through the uncut forest.

"Get them!" the leader yelled and Cat pushed Morock a little harder.

She could hear hoofbeats of several horses pounding behind her. They were sticking to the trail while she was cutting straight through around the bend. They just might make it. They had to make it.

Stumbling back on tot the trail, Morock put on a burst of speed and headed for home without her needing to tell him. She spared a glance backwards and was greeted with the sights of the three horsemen hot on their tails, two of them with swords drawn. The third held a crossbow. He lifted it and aimed straight at them.

Cat watched her life flash before her eyes and it was altogether unsatisfactory. There was so much she hadn't done. She had so many regrets.

He loosed an arrow and it sank into a tree just to the left of them on the path ahead.

Timeline: Season Two
Time: Mid-morning
Tag: Arthur

[Arthur Pendragon]

This was one of those extremely rare moments that the prince was out on his own. No presence of guards, fellow knights, or even a manservant. As rare as these moments were, they were needed every now and then. Being in the city could be . . . suffocating. He knew what his father would say to this: that a prince should not waste his time doing such foolish things. But if this meant he was a fool, then so be it. So much was expected of him, that he needed time away from that feeling of being constantly watched. A relaxing hunting trip would do just the trick. With his horse safely secured, he was currently on the trail of what the tracks indicated was a deer. A rather large one as well. He could hear the gentle snapping of twigs and rustling of leaves.

With the thick woods ahead, Arthur knew that there was no way he could go through without alerting the deer that was most likely in the nearest clearing. He needed to move to higher ground, or at least a higher line of sight. Glancing around, he saw a tree. Well, obviously there was a tree -- many in fact -- since he was in the woods. But this particular tree had enough branches placed strategically enough for him to climb. After all, Arthur had climbed enough castle walls and trees were far easier. So, with great ease -- a bit like a monkey -- and strapping his crossbow around his back, he quickly climbed up the tree. Straight ahead the deer. Positioning his crossbow, he aimed it at the neck of the deer, a position that would give it a quick and painless death. However, the deer's head jerked up and its ears twitched. And it wasn't Arthur's fault.

But nor did it take long for the hunter to also hear the sounds that disrupted the silence. And even see it. Below on the path, was a woman on a horse, racing forward. Right behind her revealed why she was going at the speed she was. She was being chased. Thoughts of hunting the deer immediately fled his mind. Whatever was happening down there, he needed to stop it. Whether the woman was in the right or wrong, she was a woman. And Arthur could have sworn he saw at least one of the men readily armed. He ran toward the direction of the path the riders were currently on. His extensive knowledge of the woods allowed him to know exactly where he needed to go to be in the most advantageous position.

Staying on higher ground, he ran and ran, until he could see in the distance the men approaching. Hiding behind a tree, he had to quickly determined what the best course of action was. He didn't want to shoot them, despite the threat they posed to the young woman. But he did need to disarm them, at least the one who was already shooting arrows from it. Arthur prepared himself, waiting and waiting . . . until the moment the armed ride was about to pass him. Arthur jumped from his elevated position right onto the saddle -- a rather uncomfortable landing -- but he was at least seated properly. The unexpected company caught the man off guard and Arthur shoved him off the horse. He had a bit of a rough fall considering the speed at which they were going at, but at least it was better than shooting him. And now, the man didn't have his cross bow.

Arthur took hold of the reins and hurried forward, passing the other men and soon catching up to the girl. He then quickly pulled one side of the reins and positioned his horse -- or his currently borrowed horse -- directly in front of her. Hopefully her reflexes would urge her to stop in time before there was a collision. What he did need to do was stop the chase and determine the cause of it. "What is going on here?" He asked, blocking the path for the girl and the men chasing her. As he was not too far from her, his eyes quickly searched over her to ensure she was unharmed, for his concern was for her and the threat the men posed. Then again, she could have broken the law, being chased for justice to be served. Something inside of him did not feel that was the case though. He was clad in his hunting attire, consisting of darkly colored pants, boots, a blue shirt, a dark brown leather vest on top, and gloves to cover his hands. For those who had never seen him in his royal position, he would be unrecognized as the prince of Camelot.

[ OMG!!! Sorry about how long this post is!! *hides*]]