Jule stood slightly below a ridge, impatiently waiting for a large farm wagon to clear the road. Lyre figeted, sneezing wetly and bobbing her head to scratch an itchy forehead on her leg.
Jule let her for a minute, then gently pulled the head up as the wagon finally cleared the ridge. Jule nudged Lyre forward, only to stop her as they reached the ridge. There, far below them Haven sprawled in a large bewildering mass of homes, businesses and people, all crowned by a massive green space that surely, surely housed the Palace and Collegia. Her uncle, riding next to her, gently shook her out of her daze.
He smiled understandingly at her. "Impressive, isn't it?"
Jule nodded mutely, drinking in the vanishing sight of the city as they and the caravan descended the hill. Lyre tugged on the slack rein, wanting to go faster, unimpressed by the vista.
Once the sight of Haven vanished completely, Jule promptly turned back to business.
"How did Nightwind travel? Will his fore be alright for the race?"
While still on the country section of the road, the main reason for the trip had spooked at a rising jackrabbit early one morning, tripping over a branch on the very edge of his picket line.
Jule had been the one to find him, leg caught in the tree branch. She'd woken panicked, with a feeling of fear, pain and entrapment. Fearing the worst, she had run from her tent on the opposite side of camp to the horse's meadow. She had freed his leg, then hauled him up onto his feet, walking him slowly to the horse leech, who had diagnosed a bone bruise, unsure if he should run in his race.
"He's fine. Favoring his fore a bit, but the leech says if it keeps improving, he should be able to run."
Jule breathed a sigh of relief, and turned her attention back to the road, trying not to dwell the odd way she'd saved Nightwind.
The track stretched before them, open and endless. Nightwind's bridle was held by a man in worn riding breeches and jacket on an old dun lead pony. The black colt pranced as he was lead to the post, behind the other powerful, older stallions. One by one they were lead to the line. Her colt figeted restlessly, hemmed in between the older, more experienced stallions.
Then they broke!
Nightwind stumbled on his brusied fore and almost went down, saving himself only by supreme effort. Catching sight of the older stallions already so far ahead, he ignored Jule's commands to slowly gain ground, snatching the bit and taking off, strides long and fast, covering more ground then she thought possible, and yet still going faster.
Soon he past the other horses, but he wouldn't stop or even slow. The reins were snatched out of her hands as she tried to slow him, and all she could do was to cling to his back and pray to Astera she wouldn't fall. If she did, even with the leather practice armor and helm, she'd break her neck or the other horses would for her.
Too late she recalled the supplanted jockey's words- 'Don't let him run in that frenzy of his. If he gets into it, there's no stopping him until the race is won. He'll not listen to you, even at the cost of your life. A race is not worth your life.'
They approached the line as she recovered her reins, pulling with all her strength, fighting to control him. Then, suddenly, violently, he shied, and she felt herself slip and fall down, down, down under the pummeling hooves of the running horses-
Jule woke with a start in her bed in the stables, covered in sweat and out of breath, gasping air into her lungs like she was drowning. Her uncle's calm breathing told her she had not awakened him, and the horses above them slumbered on, blissfully unaware of the girl's panic.
Except one. Lyre. The chestnut mare snuffled at the door to her box, nickering softly, in a worrisome sort of way.
Are you alright? She seemed to say.
"I think so," Jule replied, still half asleep and not wondering at the oddity of talking sensibly to ones' horse.
The mare used her left foreleg to shift through some straw of her bedding.
Sleep then. No hunters, good food, good water, good bed. What does a dream mean? Lyre said.
Jule nodded, sleep overcoming her once more, along with visions of white horses and blue eyes.
After all, what harm could a dream do her?