She could feel the tension in him, the frustration at not being able to do as instinct told him, but he held them aloft.
And still, it became obvious, when keen eyes were allowed to settle, when the horde was directly below.
For that is what they were.
Marching as one, land-dwellers making their way north. Penryn could not make out if they had weapons amongst them, if it was an army or if this was simply their way, a transient people never settling for long.
A horn blast, long and loud reached them, and the people halted as one.
The following rang in her ears, giving her a sense of foreboding that urged her to put her lips to Grim’s ear, to entreat him to move, to leave this place before...
Another blast rapidly followed by another three, short staccato bursts that sent a rumbling through the crowd far below.
Grimult was already moving by the time a volley of arrows sliced through the mist, whizzing below them with menacing speed. Should he have allowed them to be any closer, some doubtlessly would have hit, but he drew them higher still, the cold and winds biting at them both, but the land-dweller’s weapons were unable to reach such a height so they were offered that safety at least.
Penryn gripped tightly to Grim’s collar, willing them forward, away from the danger, from the swarm of people down below marching onward.
She tried to tell herself that they could simply be relocating. Making use of the wild lands and protecting their secrecy by attacking any that witnessed their movement.
But even then, they would surely send out riders when they saw that their foe did not fall to their arrows, to hunt them down before they reached the comparative safety of the keep.
She swallowed thickly.
She should not have complained about yesterday. It was miserable flying in the rain and the wind, but there was a safety in it too, as none else surely would venture from their dwellings.
Others clearly thought to make use of the dry skies as well.
Another volley of arrows before there was another horn blast, dim though it was as they moved away from the horde.
Penryn’s eyes were not keen enough to notice if they had indeed sent riders after them, but she was certain they would not land for a long while in order to find out.
There would be no trail for a beast to follow in any case, or so she comforted herself, so unless they managed to keep sight of them for the entirety of their journey, perhaps they would be safe.
Her heart beat rapidly in her chest, and although she wanted to speak to Grim, a lump in her throat made it nearly impossible. His face appeared almost cast in stone, his eyes filled with determination as he navigated the air. He did not keep to a single line, but made gradual crosses, this time not due to the wind but by design.
To make it more difficult to track his position, perhaps? She did not dare distract him with enquiries.
They flew longer than Penryn thought possible, and doubtlessly Grim would have preferred to go even longer, but his wings simply would not allow it. Already they were skimming closer to the surface, Penryn suppressing the urge to pull her legs up higher, so close were the tops of the trees.
“We have to stop,” she entreated at last, needing him to rest. Perhaps he could claim it was early yet to stop for the whole of the day, but there was no denying the need for water and food if he wished to continue at such a punishing pace.
Grimult gave a low grunt in her ear, but found an opening in the forest and allowed them to descend. The drop was hardly a graceful one, and when they landed, Grimult went to his knees, Penryn’s own muscles frozen in place against him, and it took a great deal of urging on her part to release them from his person.
She was stiff, the pain shooting through her elbows when she stretched her arms first out straight and then bending inward, and she did not quite manage to suppress a whimper at the discomfort. She looked at her wrapped wrist begrudgingly, wondering if it was safe yet to remove the bindings entirely. There were other pains that dwarfed any lingering discomfort in the limb, but Grimult had urged her to keep it bound whenever she had enquired, and she was not about to bring it up again now.
She worked her fingers quickly, bringing blood back to them and urging them to cooperate with her as she shuffled painfully around to Grimult’s back. Their supplies were released with a tug of the buckle, and she heard his sigh of relief.
He moved to stand, but she was quicker, allowing her hands to work at the tight and overwrought muscles of his shoulders and back, pushing and kneading, trying to soothe as best she could with unpractised hands. “Well,” she said at last, her voice firm and calm even if it did not mimic what she had initially felt hours before. “I did not expect that.”
“No,” Grimult agreed, rolling his shoulders and giving a particularly satisfied groan while she worked on a difficult knot of tissue that trembled and then released under her ministrations.
“Do you...” she began, wondering if it was wise to speak of it at all, but knowing that once she had begun, he would press to know her thoughts. She swallowed, finishing her attention to his back and bent down to rifle through the pack to see to other needs. She carried a water skin wrapped about her waist, able to
