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“GOOD GIRL!” I scream the praise, my voice more hysterical than I would like.
We are gone in a flash, no doubt followed by the same warriors who caught me the first time. It doesn’t matter. I have to at least try to escape.
This is a well-grazed world. Horses must have lived here for many thousands of years. Every plain is smooth and picked over. There are few forests and hardly any mountains. There are plains that go on and on for what seems like an eternity.
The warriors following me are going to be able to see me for fucking miles. I look over my shoulder and see the camp disappearing behind me. I don’t see any riders yet, though it somewhat doesn’t matter. They’ll be able to see me for the better part of a day. Maybe more.
That’s not going to stop me running, though my horse can’t go forever. She’s powerful and she’s determined. I’d say she was as keen to escape the pens as I was. She knows where she’s going, too. I’m not steering her. I’m along for the ride, giving her her head, letting her stretch out into a gallop.
There is always a thrill when I am atop a new mount. It’s like getting to know a new person, but at a thousand miles an hour, and with the possibility of being dumped on the ground at high speed.
I am not risk-averse. That’s why I used the last of my savings to come to this world, to try to find the most incredible stallion and bring that horse back to Earth. These animals rose from our world originally. They were left here by roaming settlers, and here they bred.
Horses are humanity’s birthright. That king, he doesn’t own them any more than I do. I have more right to them than he does. I tell myself these things because I am scared. More scared than I ever knew I could be.
My mount feels the same way. If I were riding her on Earth, I’d call this a bolt. Here on Epona Prime, it feels like a good and steady pace. A reasonable rush for what we both crave: freedom.
“Easy girl, easy,” I soothe as she starts to snort and pant. We slow a little, her sides heaving as she reluctantly drops into a walk. We’re both tired, and we both want to be as far away from here as possible. I’m guessing she’s trying to get back to her herd. Horses have incredible memories for geography. Where humans get lost and turned around, horses always know how to get home. More than one cowboy has used that knowledge to his advantage. I guess I’m using it to my advantage now too, though I have no way of knowing where I’ll end up.
“You didn’t want to belong to Equs either, huh.” I reach down and pat the mare’s neck.
The horse snorts as if she understands me. It’s rare, actually, beyond rare that a wild horse would let you just grab on and ride it. She must have been started under saddle. She doesn’t mind me, at least. If she did, I’d know about it.
I have no saddle and no bridle. I have no means of keeping her close to me. That means if I get off, I have to do it near water or I’m going to straight-up die of thirst. I’m not even going to think about what I’m going to eat.
“Okay good girl,” I soothe her as I slide off her back, knowing if she decides to continue her journey on her own now, I’m capital F, fucked. "Come on. Let’s get something to drink.”
To my surprise, and my extreme relief, she follows me. Trust is earned when it comes to horses, and the herd is supreme. I got her out of the situation she didn’t want to be in, and I think she trusts me because of it.
She swirls her muzzle back and forth in the water a couple of times before starting to slurp at it. I cup my hands upstream and drink from the bowl they make.
“I am in real trouble,” I tell her.
She snorts and starts nibbling on the rough foliage growing at the river’s edge.
“They’re going to come for both of us, aren’t they.”
She lifts her head suddenly and turns, her legs headed in a new direction away from me.
“Wait for me!”
I swear she actually slows a pace or two and allows me time to swing myself back up onto her back. Then she’s back on her mission, moving with purpose and direction.
“I’m sure glad you know where you’re going,” I say as she fords a shallow part of the river, then picks up speed, heading into a small set of rolling hills that might hide us from the inevitable chase.
This entire time I have not looked back. Not even once. I know better than to waste time glancing over my shoulder and freaking the hell out. Horses don’t look back. They pick a direction and they go in it, and that's what I’m going to do. If I just became prey on this world, I will survive as they do.
