Engraved - The Hunted Warrior

Chapter 7.1 Names

"It is just you and me girl," Alam said patting the neck of the tall grey mare. "What you need is a name. I can't just call you 'girl'."

Alam slid off her back and approached her head. She waved it angrily as if trying to head-but him and stamped the ground in protest. Alam yanked the bridle down.

"Stop it!" he scolded her. "I know you want your old master but you can't have him. He's dead. You're going to have to get used to me now."

She whinnied and shook her head.

"You're a grumpy one... but magnificent," he said as he stroked her shoulders. The horse shook her smokey grey mane, but allowed him to pat her. "What is a good name for a light grey girl like you? Tempest?"

The horse refused to answer.

"Storm? What do you think of Storm?"

Silence.

"My mother told me to be careful with names, because people can become the name and not the other way around. It's asking for trouble to call you Tempest or Storm. What about Cloud? Do you like Cloud?"

The horse snorted and bent down to pull a mouthful of the long grass they were standing on.

"Is that a no? Not Cloud? As you wish... What about Mist?"

The horse raised its head and looked at Alam while chewing a mouthful of grass.

"You like it? Me too. 'Mist'. It feels feminine, and you are a beautiful girl."

Alam put his foot in the stirrup and lightly swung himself into the saddle.

"Alright Mist. We may not know each other yet but we do have some things in common - you are missing your old master, I am missing my friends, and we are both alone in the world. But there is nothing we can do about that now so let's head upstream and see what the day brings us."

***

The first day of banishment passed by miserably and slowly. The sun made its imperceivable, yet unstopping, arch across the sky. The river gurgled impatiently as it raced southward past him; the wind whistled as it blew waves through the long grass; birds playfully danced over head; otherwise, the only sound in the world was the steady one-two three-four rhythm of Mist's hooves.

The sun was setting and turning the sky orange when Alam saw smoke. A thin line rose ahead. It was still too far away to see its source.

Looks like a campfire.

He pulled his axe out and laid it across his lap. His eyes scanned left and right. He saw no sign of people.

We're still in Empa land but the Clan has moved east. Dargu?

"I don't like the look of this, Mist," he said. "Do we go around or take a closer look?"

Mist chose not to respond

"I guess we take a closer look. If it is someone friendly they will not harm us and if it is an enemy we can warn the Clan... Providing they don't kill me first."

Alam considered tethering Mist to a riverside tree and sneaking up to the fire but in the end decided that if things went badly it would be better to be in the saddle. Nevertheless his heart was drumming in his chest as he slowly approached the fire.

There was no-one there. A horse was tethered nearby, a pack was discarded on the ground and a rabbit was cooking over the fire, but the camp was otherwise empty.

"It's about time!" shouted a voice to the right. Alam startled and swung his torso around, axe ready. Tajar hopped up from behind a tussock of long grass. As he did so he relaxed the bow in his hands and removed the arrow from its string.