21
Smooth Riding
OCTAVIA
After months of living in the forest, riding onto the plains is almost like stepping into a whole new world, as strange as opening the dropship door and stepping onto the ground for the first time. The plains stretch on for miles and miles in every direction, barren brown and white hills rolling off into the horizon. The trees here are so different from the thick firs I have grown to love. There is only a smattering of them, standing solitary or in clumps of two or three. They are still bare from the passing winter and unlike the green pines that reach upwards like fingers grazing the sky, these trees' naked branches arch out in all directions, twisting and weaving to form a wide canopy of gnarled and tangled limbs.
I imagine during the summer the plains must be beautiful, a green and tan sea of grasses rippling beneath an endless blue sheet of sky. But right now the dead grasses are an ugly brown drooping under a dusting of dirty snow. And the sky above is a mottled mix of a thousand shades of gray. It must only be early afternoon but the gray sky already seems to be darkening and off to the West the clouds are an ominous charcoal gray so dark it's almost black. Even as I watch, the clouds collect, joining ranks like an army coming together. I see distant lightning flash across them and I know we are riding directly into a storm.
The rain starts as a few gentle drops trickling down my cheeks like tears, as if the heavens are softly weeping. But within seconds there is a deafening boom overhead and Helios lets out a frightened whinny as the skies open. The rain falls in relentless sheets and there is no place to seek refuge. The cold seeps right through my clothing and right through my skin and into my very bones. My teeth start to chatter and I lean forward to weave my fingers into Helios's sopping mane, seeking his warmth.
And then between the deafening bouts of thunder ringing in the sky I hear another kind of thunder... A soft and steady rumble that grows louder with each passing beat of my racing heart. It is the thunder of hooves drawing nearer.
I shoot Indra a concerned look and draw my sword as the group of riders appears over the crest of the nearest hill, cascading down the hillside like a crushing wave. There are at least thirty of them and I cannot understand how Indra seems so calm as they form a wide sweeping circle around us. And now the thundering of their hooves is so overpowering that it drowns out the thunder of the sky above.
Helios backs nervously towards Cedar as the circle encloses us. And then suddenly the roaring stops and there is only the steady drumming of the rain beating on the thirsty earth. I eye the riders nervously, clutching my sword. But I know my blade will be useless against the thirty spears surrounding us. We are hopelessly outnumbered. And we are trapped. And still Indra does not seem worried.
"Ai Laik Indra kom Trikru." She calls out, shouting to be heard over the driving rain. "And I seek smooth riding beneath the open sky."
A single rider breaks rank from the circle, moving towards us in its center. He circles us slowly, appraising, threatening. Like the others, he holds a spear in one hand and I expect to see him clutching reins in the other but suddenly I realize he is riding barebacked. His horse has no reins, no bit, no bridle. Still, it seems he has absolute control over the glossy black beast as he brings him to a stop directly before Indra, close enough that I see Cedar's nostrils flare in discomfort.
"Why do you cross the great plains, Indra kom Trikru?" The man asks. Water collects along the rim of his wide-brimmed hat and trickles in a small steady stream down the back of his long leather duster. A red-checked bandanna covers the lower half of his face, concealing his lips as he speaks.
"I come..." Indra answers confidently. "To call upon the longstanding friendship between Trikru and Ingranrona. Azgeda marches upon the forests of Trikru with Boudelan and Sangedakru at their sides. Sand, Stone, and Ice descend upon us. Will the honorable Riders of the Plains ride beside us as we make our stand? I come as a trusted ally and an old friend to speak with Chief Rider Rashanna kon Ingranrona."
"Very well." The man says with a nod that sends a curtain of water cascading from his hat. "Your request for smooth riding has been granted. I shall escort you to Chief Rider Rashanna, if your ponies can keep stride with our steeds." He finishes with a friendly laugh. "Ha!" The man hollers and the circle unravels around us as the riders move out in unison and I follow Indra in their wake.
The thick raindrops pelt my face as we gallop, but the storm at last seems to be passing and by the time the group slows to an easy trot the rain has petered into a soft drizzle. The black clouds above have given way to gray once more. A weak sun tries valiantly to peek through small patches of blue in the mass of rolling clouds.
As we ride, the Ingrarona warriors break off in groups of four or five at a time and I realize they must be scouting parties returning to their positions on the borders of the plains. Our number continues to shrink as we ride along the edges of rusty barbed wire fences held together by crooked, molding fence posts. Long-horned cattle roam lazily within the fenceline along with some massive, shaggy, ferocious looking beasts that Indra calls the "gentle buffalo." Now and again we pass a lonely homestead, large houses standing beside larger barns and stables. The buildings seem to be built from a combination of wood and bricks made of packed mud and straw and the weak afternoon sun glints off of tin roofs as we pass them.
There are only eight left in our number by the time we slow to a walk and enter what can only be described as a town. We ride down a broken, potholed street lined with shops and businesses. The street is alive with meandering Grounders going about their business, some riding horses, others walking on foot, everyone clad in long layers of dark leathers. The man who still has not properly introduced himself to us stops outside a rustic building with an old wooden sign dangling half off its hinges that reads "Old Red's Saloon: Nebraska's Strongest Whiskey and Finest Ladies South of Lincoln."
My stomach flips at the name and I wonder where the fuck I could possibly go to escape the memories, when even here they find me.
"Wait here." The man instructs us. He leaps gracefully off of his horse and enters the building, not bothering to tether his horse. The beast waits patiently beside us. As we wait, I turn my eyes to the busy street around us. I watch a blacksmith pounding a red-hot horseshoe with a massive hammer. The walls of his shop are lined with other horseshoes, strange farming equipment that looks more like weapons than tools, cattle brands, and spear heads.
The door of the shop beside his swings open with the delicate chiming of a bell and my mouth waters as the yeasty scent of warm bread drifts through the air. A woman emerges clinging to a boy with one hand and a long loaf of crusty bread in the other. Her wandering gaze falls on me and as she stares curiously, the boy seizes the opportunity to rip a large hunk from the end of the loaf. He laughs and dodges her angry swat, grinning as he tears into his prize.
"You may enter now." I startle at the sound of the man's voice beside me. "Chief Rider Rashanna has agreed to speak with you."
I carefully dismount, landing gingerly on my good leg and help Indra secure the horses before following her inside.
The inside is nothing at all what I expected. As dilapidated as the building's front was, the inside is pristine, elegant, yet homely. The walls are lined with velvety sofas and cushy leather armchairs. Rustic lanterns dangle from the high, lofty ceiling, casting a soft glow that dissipates into the corners. The creaky wooden floor is lined here and there with speckled white, brown, and black cowhides and various horned skulls protrude from the walls.
But the most impressive part of the room is its center. What used to be a bar has been painted with a gorgeous mural of wild mustangs running through green grasses beneath a swirling blue-gray sky. The shelves I imagine were once lined with bottles of whiskey and bourbon now house rows of books elegantly bound in leather. And hanging above it all is a gigantic chandelier fashioned from antlers, with dozens of candles flickering at its tips.
I'm so busy taking in the stunning room that I barely notice the middle-aged woman who moves forward to greet us.
"Indra kom Trikru!" She exclaims with a grin. She has skin a hare darker than Indra's and her brown eyes are so dark they are nearly black. But the light glints warmly in them.
"Rashanna kom Ingranrona." Indra extends her arm for the customary greeting.
Rashanna bypasses the arm and instead envelopes Indra in a tight hug. I'm not sure I've ever witnessed anyone try to give Indra a hug before and I almost laugh at how awkwardly she stands, her back rigid, her arms tentatively patting Rashanna's back as if unsure of what else to do.
"It has been too many rides since our last meeting, my friend." The woman speaks as she finally releases a relieved Indra. "I only wish the circumstances of our meeting were happier. But alas, I have seen the dark clouds gathering on the horizon. A storm is brewing. And the Riders of the Plains are no strangers to the thunder. Come... Let us sit like old women and speak of the weather."
She hands us each a glass of brown liquor and gestures towards a small table in the corner of the room surrounded by cushy chairs. Whatever potent liquor she has given us, its fumes alone are strong enough to sting the back of my throat and bring tears to my eyes. I take a brave sip and cough at the fire in my throat. This liquor could even have Jasper under the table in no time. I set the glass down politely on the table and sit as straight as I can, feeling very much like the third wheel in this reunion of old friends.
"Ice Nation gathers their forces as we speak." Indra begins. "Like us, they seek allies, and they have already found them in Boudalan and Sangedakru. Whether other clans have added to their numbers I cannot say."
I find my mind drifting as the women speak. My cushy chair wants to swallow me in its overstuffed arms, and I can barely resist the urge to close my eyes and curl up into comfy oblivion. I struggle to keep my eyes open and focused, but they wander through the wide window beside me to the outside world beyond the glass. The saloon backs up to open plains stretching on for miles with bluish-gray mountains looming in the distance. But before the fields give way to wild open space, there is a large, fenced paddock. I spot the man who escorted us standing in its center, struggling to restrain a young colt. The colt lets out a piercing whinny and bucks wildly and the man loses his footing in the mud and falls dejectedly on his ass. I cannot stop the laugh that escapes me as I watch the man rise and wipe angrily at the mud and manure dripping down his leather chaps.
I hear a deep throat clear and turn to see Indra fixing me with a stern glare. "Perhaps you should wait outside, Octavia." Indra suggests even as I am wracking my brains for a polite way to excuse myself. I look to Rashanna and nod my head in the direction of the paddock. "May I?"
"Of course." She answers. "I daresay Roddek could use a hand out there."
I step out the back door and lean against the rickety fence encircling the paddock, watching as Roddek chases the colt through the mud. He catches me laughing and plods towards me with a frustrated frown, mumbling curses under his breath. He leans on the fence beside me and turns to gaze at the colt with a sigh. The horse is now standing perfectly calm looking innocent and bored.
"Damn colt is a pain in my ass." Roddek tells me. "I've been wrangling horses since I was old enough to climb into a saddle on my own. Folks round here call me the 'Gapachicha' because they say I can speak horse-tongue. Broken a hundred mustangs if I've ever broken one. And never once have I come across a horse this stubborn."
"What's his name?" I ask.
"The Chief Rider calls him 'Lil' Chief.'" He answers. "But I usually just call him 'Lil' Shit.' Doesn't matter none 'cause he don't answer to neither."
I let out a snort of laughter. "'Little Shit' is my horse's name too!" I say. "Well... Technically it's Helios, but more often than not... How old is he?"
"Going on three years." Roddek answers. "His mother died birthing him and we nearly lost him along with her. But luckily Shulley's mare had just given birth days before and he provided us with milk. Lil' Shit's mother was a fine specimen of a mustang. I roped her myself. Black as midnight. Powerful. Agile. And, once I broke her in a bit, even-tempered to boot. She quickly became the Chief Rider's preferred horse and I think it's only for her sake that she's kept Lil' Shit around this long. He's stubborn, mean, and downright ornery. There is anger deep within him."
I gaze at the beautiful young horse. His black hide is splotched here and there with blobs of gray and white. A line cuts almost directly down the midline of his face so that the left side is black as night and the right is the soft white-gray of ash. I look into the giant brown orbs of his eyes. And I think to myself that Roddek has this horse all wrong. It is not anger that I see in those glassy eyes. It is loneliness.
"He looks more lonely than angry." I say.
Roddek turns his eyes on me and silently studies me for a moment. His gaze is piercing, as if he can see deeper than my skin or bones and it makes me extremely uncomfortable.
"Loneliness..." He says finally. "Anger... They're usually a package deal kid."
I furrow my brows in confusion and I get the feeling that he's speaking about more than just the horse. I have no reply.
"Still, it's the anger that usually rears its ugly head more often than anything else. I've been working on saddling him for weeks now." Roddek continues. "He bites and kicks and bucks like a sonofabitch. The Chief Rider finally agreed to let me sell him as soon as I can find a buyer stupid enough to make an offer."
"What are you asking for him?" I ask, because I cannot pull my gaze from those lonely eyes. And now I am thinking of another pair of lonely eyes. And I imagine those hazel eyes widening with excitement and wonder at the sight of this young horse.
"Are you making an offer?" Roddek asks with a laugh, turning towards me with his eyebrows cocked.
"I have nothing to offer." I sigh sadly. "If I did, I'd be stupid enough to take him. I know a sad, lonely little girl who might just be the friend he needs."
Roddek stares at me again, wiggling his jaw in thought, wiping his muddy hands against his trousers. He lifts an arm and drops one massive hand onto my shoulder. The weight of it reminds me of Lincoln, but the grip still feels all wrong.
"Tell you what, kid." He says. "You get a saddle on the little shit and I'll let you take him off my hands."
...
I'm a hot mess of mud and frustration by the time I finally secure the bit in the colt's mouth. My finger is smarting where he bit into it. Blood leaks from its tip and mingles with the muck in my palm, so that I can't even suck properly at my wound without getting a tongueful of dirt and manure. I yank his head down with the reins and clamp my teeth around the tip of his ear, hard.
"That's right, Lil' Shit." I mumble into it. "Ai laik Octavia kom Trikru and I'm in charge now."
In reply, he throws his head back and snorts imperiously, splattering my face with globs of mucus. Cursing the little shit, I wipe at my face with the cleanest section I can find on my muddy hand and rub the mess across my equally muddy ass. Then I tug on his reins, meaning to lead him victoriously over to Roddek. The man has been watching me struggle for the last twenty minutes, laughing obnoxiously each time I slipped clumsily on my good-for-nothing casted leg and shouting out useless tips and bits of advice. I put on my smuggest smirk and turn towards him only to see Indra and Rashanna standing there instead. I blush as I wonder how long these powerful women have been watching me flail in the mud.
The way Indra eyes me up and down as I approach makes me wonder just how pitiful I look with my bum leg and muddy everything. She doesn't say anything, but I can tell she is holding back the laughter. She turns her raised brows on the colt.
"He's coming with us." I say, and with my lingering frustration, it comes out a whole lot more like telling than asking. "OK?" I add, trying to tone down my sass.
Indra just shrugs. "Don't let him slow us down."
I nod and feel the tiniest of smiles tugging at the corners of my lips.
"Take good care of Lil' Chief for me, Octavia kom Trikru." Rashanna smiles at me. She confidently strolls up to the colt and reaches out to stroke his neck, but he whinnies and rears up and suddenly Rashanna's ass is just as muddy as mine. Rashanna just laughs as she sits in the muck, accepting Indra's extended hand. But before Indra can pull her to her feet, Rashanna gives Indra's forearm a sharp tug and Indra sprawls, face-first into the mud beside her.
Eyes wide with disbelief, I watch Indra push herself onto her hands and knees, holding my breath, wondering what will happen next. Indra scoops one palm through the muck and slaps the mess across the front of Rashanna's coat, then bursts into a fit of laughter. Her laughs are deep, guttural, full and alive, the kind that erupt from the belly and wrack your entire body until your side aches and your lungs burn and the tears spill from your eyes. The laughter that brings breathlessness and the best kind of pain.
I have never heard Indra laugh so freely. I have never seen her grin the way she does when Rashanna lets out a gasp and peers down at her mud-strewn chest in mock appall and gives Indra a hard shove to the shoulder. And I watch the woman I respect more than anyone else in this world playing in the mud like a child and suddenly I feel the laughter building deep in my own tummy. It bubbles and churns within me, begging for release, and I can't hold it back. The laughter rushes out of me. And I welcome it.
"What are YOU laughing at?" Indra scolds me as I dodge the clump of mud she launches at my chest.
"Missed!" I tease, but even as the word crosses my lips, a cold, wet clump splatters across my cheek. I turn my glare to Rashanna as I claw the mess from my face. She shrugs at me with a mischievous smirk, wagging her thumb back and forth between herself and Indra. "Forever allies." She says simply and raises her eyebrows as if challenging me to retaliate.
"Forever friends." Indra says. And the giggles have stopped, but the soft smile on her face looks like it belongs there and is meant to stay forever. She heaves herself out of the muck and again extends an arm to Rashanna. Rashanna eyes the hand warily, apparently still expecting Indra's retribution, but when she accepts it Indra pulls her gently to her feet. They lock muddy forearms.
"I will see you soon, old friend." Rashanna smiles. "Smooth riding... Until we reach the Great Horizon."
"Until we reach the Great Horizon." Indra echoes her. Rashanna pulls Indra into another tight embrace and this time, when Indra hugs her back, it almost looks natural. Almost.
Rashanna releases Indra and turns her kind smile to me. "Smooth riding, Octavia kom Trikru."
"Smooth Riding, Chief Rashanna kom Ingrarona." I smile back at her.
"Octavia kom Trikru!" I hear a voice call as I follow Indra around the side of the building, practically dragging the stubborn colt by his reins. I glance back to see Roddek emerge from the back of the saloon wearing dry clothes and a smirk. "If you ever come back to the Plains, I'll make a mustang wrangler out of you." He laughs.
I roll my eyes at him, but I cannot fight my smile. "Smooth riding, Roddek kom Ingrarona."
"Smooth riding, kid." I hear him call after me.
Helios eyes the colt dubiously as we approach. "Congratulations!" I tell him with a pat that leaves a brown hand print on his rump "You just officially graduated to 'Big Shit!' Big Shit... Meet Lil' Shit."
Helios snorts and paws at the ground in disapproval as I secure the end of Lil' Chief's reins to his saddle horn so we can lead the colt as we ride.
"Don't worry, Big Shit." I whisper. "I'll always love you best."
"Chief Rashanna has pledged Trikru the service of her steed and her spear." Indra informs me as we slowly guide our horses down the busy street. "She will ride for our forest the day after tomorrow, leading one hundred eighty riders."
"One hundred twenty Trishana." I mumble, doing the math. "One hundred eighty Ingrarona... That makes three hundred, Indra... Three hundred."
Indra hears the uncertainty in my voice. "Three hundred fierce and loyal warriors." She assures me. But she misunderstood my worry.
"Three hundred, Indra." I repeat. "Three hundred Trikru warriors died in the attack on the dropship. Three hundred in Pike's massacre... I'm starting to think three hundred is not Trikru's lucky number."
Indra glances at me thoughtfully, but she doesn't seem concerned. "I thought Skaikru didn't put much stock in superstition."
"I'm not Skaikru." I fire at her.
"Aye." She smiles, giving Cedar a kick as we break free of the town and into open plain. "You're not."