"Saber! Saber!"

            The sound of his mother's voice halted the young scion of House Rider in his tracks. Heaving a sigh of utmost resignation, Saber turned his pony's head around and began trotting back to the castle.

            The sound of the pony's hooves on the cobblestones of the castle courtyard brought Ceri Rider's head up from where she was consulting a small handheld GPS console. Unconsciously, her shoulders eased a fraction, a tension leaving her like a taut wire suddenly let slack as she saw her son.

            "Saber!" The tone this time was less urgent, more a need to put a name to the source of the sudden relief that flooded her than any real call.

            There wasn't any visible cause for worry. The eight-year-old boy who slid down from his pony's back certainly did not look sickly. Long since recovered from the illness that had nearly taken his life three years ago and had kept him bedridden for nearly two months afterwards, he did retain some slenderness from that time of IV drips and wasting fever that made him look somewhat slight and delicate – but he was shooting up like a weed, bidding fair to equal his father and uncle's heights of six-feet-plus; and he was fit and tanned, with eyes as bright as the mind behind them, and an easy, high-headed way of moving. This was not to say that there were no effects of that time that still gave Ceri nightmares – but those were more mental than physical.

            Saber had become much quieter since his illness, less prone to his previous capers and pranks. He delighted in riding all over the moorland and forests near Caer Rheidyr. Sometimes he'd bring his practice sword with him and practice his forms there on the moor, leaping and dancing with flashing blade underneath wind and sky. More often, though, he liked to wander aimlessly, with naught but his quiet faithful pony and his own thoughts for company.

            Unfortunately, this tendency to go off alone distressed his mother. For one, she had never quite gotten over Saber's kidnapping and every moment he was not with her, a quiet, subtle but unceasing voice in her mind insisted that he would be taken from her again. For another, she felt that Saber was much too young to be so introspective and solitary.

            It was never a question of whether or not Saber would be safe on his own. As any child of Antiran heritage, especially those away from the cities, would, he had grown up steeped in the lore and learning of woodcraft – what the Highlanders tended to call the caillin brath, the land-sense. Indeed his father and his uncle Adian had themselves thoroughly explored the land as boys themselves – but at least then they'd had each other for company.

            But remembering how it had chafed, being a girl, to not be allowed to accompany her brother and Stephen on their rambles, Ceri endeavored mightily to curb her protective instincts and allow Saber the freedom he desired. Still…

            She caught sight of the portable shelter and saddle-bags of supplies on Aderyn's back. "Going to stay overnight, Saber?"

            Saber nodded silently. For his eight birthday, he had received, among other things, his father's permission to camp overnight on the moor. He could only do that once or twice a month and clear it with his father first, of course. As quiet and unexuberant as Saber had become, it was easy to see that he was pleased with this new liberty. This would be his third such trip.

            If his mother wouldn't stop him…

            Luck was with him, it seemed. Ceri looked very hard at him for a moment, and Saber braced himself for the denial of permission he was half-sure would follow. Instead, Ceri glanced once at her handheld, sighed much as Saber had earlier, and told him, "Fine. But you be back here before lunchtime tomorrow, do you hear me? And if I find that you've been slacking off from Adian or Gil – " Gilbert Keyes was Saber's governor, tutoring the boy in Grammar, Maths, History and Classicals, " – then you'll have this privilege revoked."

            Saber, aware that both his uncle and his tutor had been pleased with his progress in lessons lately, knew that his mother did not really mean to ground him. Happy with this unexpected leniency, he quirked his lips in a half-smile – about as effusive an expression of delight as you could get from Saber anymore, except for rare occasions – and kissed his mother on the cheek before swinging himself easily onto Aderyn's back.

            Ceri watched her son ride off, smiling despite the ever-present worry. Saber hardly ever indulged her in such spontaneous displays of affection anymore – but whenever he did, she was reassured of the presence of the Saber she'd once had, the son who would laugh with such bright glee and run up to her and insist on a hug and cuddle, still there beneath the silent, sharp-eyed boy who carried himself as a soldier and never cried anymore.

***

AN:

Hello to Daiji! (waves) Newest member of the SratSS fics list, and another Saber-fan! Yay!

Oh, about the chapter? This chapter is just meant to show the after-effects of the previous two. Also the wandering thing is going to be important.