Angharad: A Fine Day in Spring

Angharad found her hands winding slightly tighter around the reins as her pony pitched into a spirited canter, taking a moment to heed her heels digging into its side. It wasn't that Kip was a bad horse to have; on the contrary, it was one of the best in her father's lot, as far as ponies were conserned. No, Kip was just irritated with having to follow Master Dylan's ambling pace through New Avalon's woods.

Master Dylan, hearing the pony's impatient whinny, looked back and down from his high seat and forwned not at the horse, but at Angharad.

"If you prefer, Princess, we can move our lessons of nature back to the clutter of the castle construction. Perhaps you enjoy reading about stamen and corollas in your texts than seeing them in nature."

"No, no," said Harri hastily, knowing the Master was fully capable of carrying out his threat. "It's just that Kip's a little fresh this morning, Master Dylan. I haven't been able to ride for three days, and he's just really pleased to see me."

She leaned forward in her seat and patted Kip's neck.

"I 'spect that if he had a nice canter - say along the ride to the withered oak and back, he'd be as good as gold," she added coaxingly. "And then I could listen and learn lots and lots about stamen and corollas and heaps of other things."

Master Dylan frowned, pushing the smoked glass of his spectackes up his nose. "This is not even ground for riding, highness. You may think yourself the mistress of the equine because of your father, but you still have much to learn...

"And how to set a broken wrist in the field is not your lesson for the day."

"But if I promise promise promise to be careful," said Harri. "And if I stay on the bridle path? It really isn't so very rough. And it would be a very very slow canter. Just to shake the fidgets out of Kip?"

She look up the Master on his lean-backed horse hopefully.

Master Dylan gave a mighty sigh, worthy of the most beset upon of martyrs.

"Very well. To the oak, highness. Not a hoof further."

"I promise!" said Harri delightedly.

She wheeled Kip so that he was facing the long narrow grass lane that led to the oak, and then kicked him into a trot. He was fresh, she realised, and so eager to respond to her command to canter that she began to wonder if she would be able to persuade him to stop.

The pony lunged forward, and Harri was glad for her already tight grip on the rein. Kip's hooves cut into the soft earth, and she found her footing perfectly among the gnarled roots and upturned rocks of the forest floor. The oak approached as the horse exceeded her usual gallop.

Harri pulled on the reins.

"Kip!" she shouted. "Kip - slow down now!"

She was bending forward in the saddle, riding low as Father had taught her so that she wouldn't fall foul of any low branches ...

Well, if she couldn't make Kip stop, perhaps at least she could make him turn ...

(OOC - what's Kip's gender?)

(OOC: Erm, male.... Sorry if I was inconsistant)

She yanked on the reins as hard as her little hands could, and this was enough to make the pony think about what it was doing... Not enough, though, to stop. He turned, careening down a riverbed and over a pile of leaves. Another yank, and the creature stopped, pawing the ground with anxious huffs, just waiting for another kick to send him off running again.

Harri laughed, patting Kip's neck.

"You're too frisky, today, boy. Now we've come further than I've promised and we'll both be in trouble with Master Dylan."

She looked around the area thoughtfully - the riverbed and the leaves.

"Hmmm," she said. "P'rhaps, Kip, if we find something =really= good, some specimens for our nature table, Master Dylan will forgive us."

She considered the possibilities for dismounting. There was a low log there - she could use that as a mounting block - and Kip was usually very good about standing still while she mounted.

But where there any specimens worth collecting?

Hopping from one solid patch of ground to another, she was able to do a small survey of the area. A few hyacinths were clustered about an elm's base, and some particularly strange vine... Well, the vine wasn't anything particular, really, just the land's average creeper. But the thorns on it were red, three inches long, and looked terribly sharp. She touched one, and found it wasn't a thorn at all, but a small stick that had been jammed into the elm's bark. It fell with her touch, and she saw about a half dozen others on the earth with it.

Not far away, and growing less far with every moment, she could hear her tutor's irritated call for her.... Using her full name.

Harri winced. But perhaps if she could show him some of these strange sticks, it might take the edge off his scold. He was, after all, always advising her to look out for strange things ...

Carefully, she stooped down to begin to gather some of the strange little sticks ...

In gathering them, she noted something strange... a bit of green at the ends. Peering closer, she could see the discoloration wasn't the wood, but something painted on the ends... Something that looked almost tacky.

"Angharad of Barimen and Avalon! Where are you?"

"I'm here!" called Harri. "Oh, do come here, Master Dylan! I was looking for samples to show you - and I've found something strange!"

Suddenly Harri was feeling a bit sick-and-shivery, like she always did when she thought something was Not Quite Right. And suddenly too, she was was glad she was wearing her calfskin riding gloves.

She heard the thrashing of her tutor climbing through the bramble and overgrowth, using the watered down curses that were all to familiar to him. He caught sight of Harri, kneeling on the ground. "This is not the oak, young--" His voice was choked from his throat as he caught sight of the sticks in Harri's hands. "Mistress! Put those down at once!"

Harri had been trained to obey a certain urgent note of danger from her earliest years. Now she instantly dropped the sticks and stared up at her tutor, wide eyed.

"What is it, Master Dylan? What are they? They felt ... " She sought for a word that seemed to express the strange revulsion she had felt ... "nasty."

"They're poisoned," he replied shorty, pulling her up and away from the tree. Now, she could see it was covered in the little sticks, from the ground up to as high as Master Dylan's head. He noticed as well, pressing his smoked glass glasses up his nose with a frown.

"They Wyrr... all the way up here? We're scarcely a league from the fort." He looked up at the shifting canopy of the forest, and his eyes were no longer the critical eyes of Harri's tutor, but wide and darting nervously from shadow to shadow.

"The ... Wyrr?" faltered Harri, her voice sinking to a whisper. "What are they, Master Dylan?"

She looked around nervously, as though expecting to see eyes in the undergrowth.

"They're... men." He didn't sound all that certain on such a simple statement, however. He bustled her back to where his horse was tethered next to Kip. He began to pull her up, placing her on her his own saddle.

"Hold tight, mistress. We have to return to the castle."

"Please!" said Harri, struggling a little. "Let me ride Kip! You know he always carries me safely!"

~And faster than your old slowcoach of a mare,~ was the silent thought that accompanied this.

"No." He pushed her onto his saddle, making certain she was stable. There was a rush of sound to the left of them... The sound of leaves rustling, then the sound of a bird, giving up its mating call to the woods. Then there was another bird call... to their right. Then another, to their rear.

Harri gave a little gasp, waiting for Master Dylan to swing into his saddle behind her. They were being hunted, that was clear. And these ... Wyrr ... had little poisoned arrows, or darts.

"Hurry, Master Dylan, please!" she said urgently. "Father ... Father will send out a party against them ... "

Master Dylan had one foot in the stirrup, ready to heft himself up, his breath coming in short, panicked huffs.

There was a burst of sound to their rear, and Harri saw a flurry of leaves fall about them. Dylan dropped off the horse, slapping the steed's flank. "Harri! Go!"

"Take Kip!" shouted Harri desperately, as she kicked the mare forward. "Kip will carry you, Master Dylan!"

And then she was spurring forward, her heart in her mouth. Father had said she must obey such commands - always, always, always.

But Kip and Master Dylan ...

She shot a panicked look over her shoulder ...

She could see Master Dylan falling back from the sudden burst of leaves, his sword at the ready. He wasn't bringing up the point though... He was holding his throat, staggering. Kip reared and pawed at the ground, trying to tear loose her rein from the fallen log. There was something emerging from the leaves... Something green... and brown... and snarling...

"No!" yelled Harri.

Kip and Master Dylan were her =people=! She couldn't leave them to fight and die alone.

She only had a small sword - not much bigger than a dagger - and really only useful for cutting stubborn vines ...

But if she rode fast enough and used it hard enough ...

She tugged on the reins, trying to wheel the mare ...