A harsh breath cut the air like a knife, the mist of it clouding the young man's vision. He stamped his feet in his hiding place behind a copse of bushes. How long would the groom linger? He sidled closer to the bushes, peering through the branches while crouching. He could see the groom's lantern gleaming in the night as he checked the stalls. Come on. You want to be inside on this bitter night. Get moving. The young man blew into his hands. Ridiculous this cold in the north. Stupid to make the trip to Windhelm. Why had he even ventured this way in the first place? He chastised himself. If you hadn't acted like an idiot, Samuel Grey-Heart, you wouldn't be here, now would you?
The light moved over and up, heading up the stairs that would lead to the groom's lodging. It disappeared. Samuel counted down from one hundred. ...5...4...3...2...1. He slid around the bushes, still crouched, eyes and ears alert. No noise. No movement. He continued forward. His heart thumped in his chest and he tried to ignore it. He'd stolen things a hundred times over, but he'd never been this nervous. He'd never stolen a horse before. For all he knew, it would neigh and cause a ruckus. But he had no choice. It would be easier to embark on a long journey with a horse as a traveling companion.
He paused at the back of the stable, flush up against it, controlling his breathing. He conjured the front of the stable in his mind. He'd already scoped it out earlier. All he had to do was run up the side, turn the corner, dash into the stall and mount the animal. It had big muscles. He had guessed that meant it was strong and hardy. He'd never ridden a horse, but he figured a large horse had to mean something good.
Brynjolf would be ashamed of me. Samuel snorted. Who was he kidding? If Brynjolf saw him he'd skip over shame and just run him through with his jagged dagger. The Guildmaster would have no room for forgiveness, not after what he'd done. Do it, coward, Samuel urged himself. He slid along the side wall, confirmed silence and made his move, whirling around to the front and approaching swiftly, but cautiously. His target nickered and backed up as he entered the stall. "Shhhh," he breathed out. "I'm just borrowing you." Something like that, anyway. Fortunately for him, the horse was saddled and ready to ride. He'd known it would be so. He'd observed the wealthy patron that had paid for it this morning and ordered it prepped late into the night.
Samuel approached the horse's side and took a deep breath. He'd seen this done. It couldn't be that hard, could it? He gripped the pommel of the saddle and put his foot in the stirrup. His first try was a disaster. The horse shimmied away and he lost his balance, pitching backwards to the ground. The horse turned its head to him and blew out of its nostrils. Samuel growled at the gelding. "Shut up." He stood, gripped the pommel again, but then froze. Footsteps nearby. He let go the pommel and pressed himself into the back of the stall, crouched down, cloak around him, as still as possible.
A guard came into view, pacing towards the stable. Curse the divines! Samuel shouted inside. He should have already been away from here. The guard came closer. Samuel's heart hammered his ribs. If he got caught it would be five years in prison at best, execution for horse thieving at worst. The guard stopped a few yards distant, then turned and walked towards the city wall beside the stable. Samuel heard a stream of liquid hitting the wall. He rolled his eyes. He would steal a horse at the same time the guard had to take a piss! He waited. The guard ambled back by and toward the Windhelm bridge.
Samuel breathed easier. He stood and walked to the side of the horse, who looked back at him again. He eyed it. "Work with me this time, huh?" He sucked in a breath, put his foot in the stirrup and this time pulled harder and thrust himself higher. There. He was up. The animal swayed underneath him and he held onto the pommel. He hated his fear of the beast underneath him. Don't show it. They know how you feel. At least, that's what he'd heard. He picked up the reins. He'd been around enough to see riders. He could do this. He just had to get it moving. He dug his heels into the horse. To his dismay, the horse bolted out of the stall. He failed to stifle a surprised cry.
"Who is that? Who's there?" he heard the guard shout as he zoomed past.
He hung onto the saddle for dear life, laying against the horse's neck, the zip of arrows passing over his head and ruffling his unruly hair. He closed his eyes when they hit forest. Branches slapped at his body and face and he felt a sting on his cheek. Finally the horse lost its gallop and stilled. Samuel opened his eyes and listened intently. He heard no sound of pursuit. He sighed and put a hand to his cheek, feeling a slick stickiness. He brought his hand close to his eyes and noted the blackness on his hand—blood. It wasn't a deep cut, but it stung nonetheless. He looked around. Where were they? Windhelm wasn't anywhere in sight. The horse neighed and stamped its hooves, then shook its head. Then it slowly turned around. Apparently without direction it would head home to its warm stables.
"Oh no you don't!" Samuel reprimanded. He gripped the reins, pulling them to the left and turning the horse back. Thank Talos it was well tamed. "You aren't getting away until you've done your job." He tapped the horse's sides with less gusto this time and it moved forward. There. He'd manage to ride just fine.
Samuel glanced up at the sky. Unfortunately, a cloudy night. He had no idea where he was, but he'd find out. Come hell or high water, he'd get to Helgen...and to her.