Chapter 11
-The Lesson-
"Can I come?" Carl had entered the stable as Archer finished readying Tank for Michael.
"Not sure that's a good idea, kid." Michael put his arm over Tank's shoulder and took her reins from Archer.
"C'mon. I've ridden lots of times." He looked at Archer pleadingly.
Archer raised an eyebrow at Michael before disappearing into Churchill's stall. She could hear them talking.
"How many lessons have you had?"
"I didn't need lessons." Carl was annoyed now. "My Dad taught me at the prison."
"Look, there's riding and then there's riding."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Archer sighed, emerging from Churchill's stall. "If your Dad says it's okay, I'll give you a few lessons. Not today though. We're supposed to do a run on the perimeter before sundown."
"I don't need lessons. I've never fallen off!"
Michael rolled his eyes. "Exactly." He turned to Archer. "Ready?"
She nodded "Can you and Tank walk out together or do you need a hand?"
"This is bullshit." Carl cursed earning him a dirty look from Michael.
"We're good." Michael said as he clucked to Tank. The big mare flicked an ear back to him and walked forward slowly so Michael could walk beside her. Archer and Churchill followed, leaving a brooding Carl in the barn.
She dropped her reins and ordered Churchill to stand as Michael led Tank beside a ramp. He hobbled up the ramp with Tank keeping pace beside. At the top he leaned over her and settled himself into the saddle. Archer came around and fastened the straps that held his legs tightly to Tank's side.
Next she applied the make-shift armor they'd cobbled together out of pieces of sports equipment and harness. They didn't always use it, but given the increase in activity in the area it was a must. The gear protected the rider's legs and the horses' flanks from the dead. They'd painted all the armor in shades of brown and green to provide camouflage. The horses also wore protective boots for their lower legs.
Unlike Tank's armor, which had been made specifically to protect Michael, Churchill's set was not integrated into his rider's gear. He was already wearing his, she only needed to add a pair of chaps that provided protection to the outside of her legs.
For weapons, they carried long staffs in their hands. Michael, who was a relatively good shot, carried a gun while she has a long knife.
"Set?" Michael asked, adjusting the strap on his helmet.
She snapped hers on and nodded. They walked the horses through the parade square and passed the group who had been working on preserving food from their fall harvest. She saw many from Rick's group hard at work. Including Daryl, who was stoking a fire under a large cauldron.
A loud whistle sounded across the square causing Churchill to jump. The gelding grabbed at his bit and started prancing as the fort erupted into activity. People were dashing to their emergency posts as word spread that the dead approached. Sheila, like a true drill sergeant, ordered Rick, Daryl, Glenn and Maggie to find Costas on the walls. She sent the others to various gates and rally points in the fort. She held back Carl and her eldest to manage the fires and stop what they were working on from burning.
"Michael! Archer!" Sheila's youngest came barreling from the opening to the lower fort. "Costas wants the cavalry out front!"
She and Michael exchanged a grim look before letting their mounts surge forward towards the lower fort.
"MOVE" She yelled as she came through the portcullis, Daryl and Rick dodged out of her way. As the horses careened around the corners of the fort, she looked up to see Costas on the wall, waving her out. Churchill headed towards the gates, spurred on by the cranking sound of them being raised.
Once outside, the riders slowed their horses looking for the source of the alarm.
"There!" Michael saw it first. Guy and Jean were racing across the field, hockey sticks in hand, with a swarm of walkers behind them. They wouldn't make it to the fort in time.
Churchill and Tank thundered down the grassy slope towards the chaos. The two men had passed the pike lines, but some walkers made it through and were catching up. The riders headed to place themselves between the walkers and their people. Tank was farther ahead, "DOWN!" Michael yelled to the first man. Michael's staff swung over their friend's head as he dove, taking off the head of the walker behind him.
That was the start of a deadly dance the riders had developed in their days on the run.
As the riders swung their staffs, crushing heads and stabbing skulls, the horses unleashed their own brand of violence on the walkers. Tank preferred to mow down the walkers, shoving them to the side with her weight and trampling them into the ground with her large hooves. Churchill reared, bucked and kicked at any unfortunate enough to get close. Sharp teeth grabbed rotting limbs and tore them off with ease.
The skirmish didn't last long, less than a dozen walkers had made it past the traps on the outskirts of the fields and they had been spread out nicely. Churchill snorted and pawed at the ground, letting her know he wanted to go after the walkers stuck on the pike fences. "Easy." She told him, backing him away from the traps. Others would come to clear. Her mount could easily fall lame from a misplaced kick near the pikes.
Behind her she could hear the sickening sounds of Tank's hooves dancing over the dead. She scanned the tree line and saw no movement. "Clear here, you?" She called back to Michael.
"Clear. Let's give the signal."
Both riders lifted their staffs into the air letting the people at the fort know it was safe to send out a crew to finish up.
Churchill snorted and tossed his head. Michael rode up to stand beside her, keeping Tank a respectable distance away. "Just like old times." He said grimly.
"Just like old times." She agreed.
Churchill's ears flicked back at the sound of runners coming up from behind. Looking back over her shoulder she saw the clearing crew come out, Michonne and Tyreese were with them.
"Costas says to skip patrol." Tyreese advised.
She nodded and walked her horse out while the team worked. She kept an eye on the woods but knew that the horses would sense the walkers before they would. When the crew was done, the riders followed them back into the fort. Churchill, satisfied by the day's action, walked calmly cropping grass as they went.
"Good work." Costas congratulated them when they walked through the gate. "The boys are ok, sent 'em off to rest. Sal's back at the barn, he'll give you a hand with the beasts."
Emma dismounted to give Churchill a break while Michael headed off towards the barn.
"Damn." Daryl came over, "That was somethin'."
"Sorry?" She patted the gelding's neck, trying to hide the fact that her hands were shaking.
"I watched ya from the wall."
"Oh." She shrugged, loosening her mount's girth. "It's mostly Churchill."
"Saw you swing that stick. That ain't Churchill."
It was high praise, coming from Daryl. She bit her lip and avoided eye contact. She didn't want him to see how pleased she was at the compliment. "I guess I've had practice."