Snippet #2498364

"How long have you lived here," she says softly, "for this to be where you trained?"

Caelan considered the question. It would be coming up eleven years since he began his training with Master Darain. Caelan exhaled steadily, crushing the memories that were threatening to resurface. His training years had not been the happiest. "Long enough," was the only answer he gave to her question, his voice tense. When he heard Sarai leave, he looked down at his hands, realising his hands were gripping the window ledge to the point his knuckles were beginning to turn white.

Snapping away from the ledge, Caelan cast his gaze out the window to make sure Sarai was running up and down the hill. Satisfied that she was, Caelan left to tend to the horses. One of the horses, Raiden, was in his constant possession. A sturdy Criollo horse, Raiden had served Caelan well, particularly in the heat of battle. The second horse, a Percheron, was a more recent acquisition of his. Shorter and stockier than his own horse, the currently nameless horse had been bought for Sarai, having been reassured that the breed was highly reliable and difficult to spook. Throwing down some fresh hay for the stablemates to eat, Caelan began saddling the horses.

After he was certain both saddles were secure, Caelan threaded a set of reigns onto the Percheron, knowing most riders preferred to have them to control their horses. Gently holding the underside of Raiden's face and leading the Percheron by the reigns, Caelan guided the horses round to the hill, "I trust you can ride a horse?" He asked Sarai, holding up the reigns of the Percheron for Sarai to see, "If not, I suggest you learn quickly."