Mordred grunts, his eyes fluttering open after a few seconds and he smiles. “Good morning” he mutters, moving into a sitting position “you didn’t have to.”
Another long pause, before she answers, “It’s Edward. And he’s … there’s something wrong.” Summer closes her eyes, then kicks her horse into a gallop and tears down the road, braid and cloak streaming behind her.
Mordred follows after her, catching up to her in a matter of moments. “Edward? Your brother?”
“Yes!” she shouts back, bent over the saddlehorn. One curve, another, a thin branch she barely ducks — and there he is, tall and straight in the saddle, black hair glinting in the sunlight. He’s pulled up, obviously hearing her pounding approach, and she just barely manages to keep the two horses from crashing into one another.
“Summer?!”
“Edward!” He seizes her in a crushing hug, all but lifting her off the back of her horse.
Mordred grunts, his eyes fluttering open after a few seconds and he smiles. “Good morning” he mutters, moving into a sitting position “you didn’t have to.”
“Not far,” she murmurs, head cocked. “Someone’s coming.” She nudges the horse forward a step, then two, and listens again. Whomever it is, they’re moving fairly fast. “Someone I know.”
Mordred falls silent, listening intently for a moment but he could hear and feel nothing. “Who?”
Another long pause, before she answers, “It’s Edward. And he’s … there’s something wrong.” Summer closes her eyes, then kicks her horse into a gallop and tears down the road, braid and cloak streaming behind her.
Mordred grunts, his eyes fluttering open after a few seconds and he smiles. “Good morning” he mutters, moving into a sitting position “you didn’t have to.”
The sense of immediate urgency is a little less today, but the memory of that spike of pain last night keeps her heels to the horse. It helps that they approach lands familiar to her from earliest childhood very quickly. Summer lifts her head from the half-doze she’s fallen into at the sound of hoofbeats ahead, and she lifts a hand to Mordred, slowing their pace.
The knight pulls himself from his thoughts, the sun rising higher into the sky, warming the earth. It must be at least midday by now but it’s still not warm enough for either his or the horses’ liking. “How far now?” Mordred calls, riding up to join her.
“Not far,” she murmurs, head cocked. “Someone’s coming.” She nudges the horse forward a step, then two, and listens again. Whomever it is, they’re moving fairly fast. “Someone I know.”
Mordred grunts, his eyes fluttering open after a few seconds and he smiles. “Good morning” he mutters, moving into a sitting position “you didn’t have to.”
While he’s doing that, she saddles the horses and repacks the blankets. Her mouth quirks when she looks at him; there’s an errant curl sticking up over one eye that gives him the look of a particularly demented and dashing fae. She brings his horse over to him and holds it while he mounts, then swings up herself.
Mordred smiles down at her. “Thank you,” he says gently, throwing his cloak behind him, draping the back of the horse. The horse huffs, moving under him irritably and Mordred grips the reins, steering him in the direction he needed to go in. “This way mate.”
The sense of immediate urgency is a little less today, but the memory of that spike of pain last night keeps her heels to the horse. It helps that they approach lands familiar to her from earliest childhood very quickly. Summer lifts her head from the half-doze she’s fallen into at the sound of hoofbeats ahead, and she lifts a hand to Mordred, slowing their pace.
Mordred grunts, his eyes fluttering open after a few seconds and he smiles. “Good morning” he mutters, moving into a sitting position “you didn’t have to.”
“Yes,” Summer sighs. She takes the time to give him a quick kiss before untangling herself, tucking stray strands back into her braid and smoothing it flat again.
Mordred pulls himself to his feet, shaking dry leaves from his curls before he begins dismantling the fire. When he is done he blends the ashes into the earth with the sole of his shoes, throwing the rocks and what is left of the wood around to make it look like there has been no one there. “Let’s go.”
While he’s doing that, she saddles the horses and repacks the blankets. Her mouth quirks when she looks at him; there’s an errant curl sticking up over one eye that gives him the look of a particularly demented and dashing fae. She brings his horse over to him and holds it while he mounts, then swings up herself.
Mordred grunts, his eyes fluttering open after a few seconds and he smiles. “Good morning” he mutters, moving into a sitting position “you didn’t have to.”
She can’t actually move, she finds, when her thoughts swim to the surface of consciousness again. Mordred’s arm is tight about her waist, clutching her close. A soft smile curves her mouth, and she puts her hand over his and snuggles back, before slowly twisting herself in his arms so she can see his face.
He looks infinitely younger sleeping, the constant worry smoothed away from his brow. She cups his face in her hands, then breathes, “Mordred. Wake.”
He hums, half tempted to bat her hands away from his face but instead opened his eyes. For a moment he blinks before rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?” he asks, rolling over slightly to look at the sky, answering his own question. ”We better get going.”
“Yes,” Summer sighs. She takes the time to give him a quick kiss before untangling herself, tucking stray strands back into her braid and smoothing it flat again.
Mordred grunts, his eyes fluttering open after a few seconds and he smiles. “Good morning” he mutters, moving into a sitting position “you didn’t have to.”
Summer wraps herself up in a couple of blankets and curls over, drowsing. Dawn seems to come, somehow, too soon and too late, and it’s achingly hard to unwind herself from the warmth of Mordred’s body. It’s a small comfort that all she has to do is lift a finger for the fire to blaze back up.
When he wakes he opens his eyes for a few moments, in a daze but soon curls back up into the warmth of the blankets, closing his eyes again. Sometimes, he just wished he could stay curled up like this but he knew they had places to be, so for that extra hour he decided to stay and catch up on some sleep.
She can’t actually move, she finds, when her thoughts swim to the surface of consciousness again. Mordred’s arm is tight about her waist, clutching her close. A soft smile curves her mouth, and she puts her hand over his and snuggles back, before slowly twisting herself in his arms so she can see his face.
He looks infinitely younger sleeping, the constant worry smoothed away from his brow. She cups his face in her hands, then breathes, “Mordred. Wake.”
Mordred grunts, his eyes fluttering open after a few seconds and he smiles. “Good morning” he mutters, moving into a sitting position “you didn’t have to.”
It’s a silly use of fabric, but again she doesn’t bother to argue with him, just cuts off a chunk with her dagger and passes it over. She eats in silence, neatly, and drops the bones in the fire when she’s done. Then she untangles one of the blankets from her shoulders and drapes it over Mordred, cuddling into his side. “I don’t know what we’ll find tomorrow,” she says softly.
“Neither do I,” he tells her, kissing the side of her head before he chews into the meat. “But we shall find out when it comes.”
Summer wraps herself up in a couple of blankets and curls over, drowsing. Dawn seems to come, somehow, too soon and too late, and it’s achingly hard to unwind herself from the warmth of Mordred’s body. It’s a small comfort that all she has to do is lift a finger for the fire to blaze back up.
Mordred grunts, his eyes fluttering open after a few seconds and he smiles. “Good morning” he mutters, moving into a sitting position “you didn’t have to.”
“The other way takes too long, and I’m tired. Can you get me something to put this on?” The bird is sizzling and the juices are dripping to the forest floor, andd she lets the fire fade away. It makes the night seem a lot colder, suddenly.
He nods, tearing a piece of material from his clothing, handing it to her. “Place it on that,” he tells her, sitting down beside her.
It’s a silly use of fabric, but again she doesn’t bother to argue with him, just cuts off a chunk with her dagger and passes it over. She eats in silence, neatly, and drops the bones in the fire when she’s done. Then she untangles one of the blankets from her shoulders and drapes it over Mordred, cuddling into his side. “I don’t know what we’ll find tomorrow,” she says softly.
Mordred grunts, his eyes fluttering open after a few seconds and he smiles. “Good morning” he mutters, moving into a sitting position “you didn’t have to.”
Summer has to hide a smile behind the blanket. “You did indeed. I am rightly rebuked. I will never again question your prowess, brave sir knight.” She takes the bird from him and efficiently plucks it, burying the offal. With a considering glance at him, then, she holds it up by the legs and creates a ring of fire around it, reckoning that to be a quicker method than spitting it.
A smirk tugged at his lips as he swung the quiver off his shoulder, placing it by the tree with a bow. “That’s one way to do it.”
“The other way takes too long, and I’m tired. Can you get me something to put this on?” The bird is sizzling and the juices are dripping to the forest floor, andd she lets the fire fade away. It makes the night seem a lot colder, suddenly.