“Starving.” I was grateful for the break in whatever had just passed between us.
We dismounted in a small clearing protected from the snow by a dense canopy of pine boughs. Becken helped me down, his hands firm on my waist, and I was surprised to find my legs steady beneath me when I landed on the ground. The forest floor was carpeted with fallen pine needles that released their scent with each step, and patches of snow sparkled like diamonds.
He spread a blanket on a fallen log for us to sit and unpacked the food—thick sandwiches wrapped in waxed paper, shiny red apples, and thermoses of hot tea.
“Holly’s special recipe.” He handed me a sandwich. “Ashenbird, which tastes a bit like turkey, with cheese and spices from the orc kingdom.”
The flavors were rich and unfamiliar, but delicious. Smoky and slightly sweet, with a hint of heat that warmed me from the inside. We ate; the sorhoxes grazing nearby on winter grass.
“Where did you learn about rodeo management?” Becken asked as we finished our lunch.
“I got a college internship at a ranch in Wyoming, where I discovered I had a knack for logistics and program development.” I helped fold the blanket. “When you understand what works and what doesn’t, you can adapt them to any situation.”
“Even sorhoxes?”
“Even sorhoxes.” I smiled, meeting his gaze. “The principles are universal. Safety, engagement, authentic experience. The specifics change, but the foundations don’t.”
He nodded, satisfied with my answer. “Ready to continue?”
We remounted and followed the trail deeper into the forest. The path narrowed, forcing us to ride single file, with Dester leading.
The comfortable silence stretched between us, broken only by the sounds of the forest. A woodpecker drummed on a tree in the distance, and the wind whispered through pine boughs. Becken pointed out landmarks with orc names I couldn’t pronounce, the harsh consonants and flowing vowels of his native language contrasting with the soft sounds of the forest.
The temperature dropped as we ventured deeper into the woods, and I pulled up my hood, tying it beneath my chin. Dester’s body heat provided some warmth, but not enough to keep me toasty warm.
I was contemplating how to incorporate some orc traditions into the rodeo program when a flash of pink movement on my right caught my eye.
Dester tensed, spotting it before I registered what was happening. A pink scaled creature with a body resembling an oversized ostrich burst from the bushes lining the right side of the trail. Its large, yellow gaze pinned on me. Before I could process the bizarre sight, the creature let out a piercing shriek that echoed through the trees.
Dester spooked beneath me, his body jerking. I grabbed for the reins, but it was too late. He bolted down the trail, running at full speed past the strange creature. The world blurred around me as I clung to the saddle horn.
“Pull back on the reins.” Becken’s voice sounded distant behind me. “Dester. Stop!”
I tried to follow his instructions, but the sorhox was beyond listening, his powerful legs carrying me deeper into the forest at a terrifying pace. The bitter air stung my eyes, making them water, and trees whipped past in a dizzying blur.
Thundering hoofbeats followed, Peeka in pursuit, but Dester showed no signs of slowing. Each jarring step threatened to send me flying off his back. A fall at this speed would be disastrous.
Dester careened around a bend in the trail, and I prayed I’d survive my first sorhox ride.
Chapter 6
Becken
Iwatched in horror as Dester bolted with Carla clinging to his back. Her yelp of surprise was followed by a cry of fear as the sorhox charged down the forest trail, his powerful legs churning through the snow-covered leaves and brush. The damn chumble’s screeching had spooked him, sending him running with a woman on his back who’d never ridden before today. My stomach dropped as if I’d swallowed a boulder.
“Carla!” My voice cut through the air, sounding foreign to my own ears, too high, too frantic for the stoic orc I’d always thought I was.
Images from my years of training back in the orc kingdom flashed through my mind. Sorhoxes spooked by predators. Inexperienced riders thrown. The sickening sound of bones breaking when they impacted with the ground.
Not Carla. Not when I was responsible for her first ride.
Peeka responded instantly to my knee pressure, surging forward in pursuit. We thundered after them, but Dester had a lead and was moving with the frantic energy of a frightened animal. Snow fell heavier now, reducing visibility and mufflingall sound. The forest closed in around us, branches reaching like skeletal fingers through the white curtain of snow.
I pushed Peeka faster, leaning forward across her neck. “Go, go, go.”
She responded, her powerful muscles bunching beneath me as she accelerated. The wind stung my face, and my breath formed clouds that whipped away. The trees blurred as we raced along the trail, following the fresh tracks. I’d challenged beasts with only my bare hands or a sword as a weapon, rescued family from minor mishaps, but never with this stark dread gripping my heart.
The snow caught in my eyelashes, forcing me to blink fast to maintain sight of Dester’s tracks. Each heartbeat felt like a countdown. Each second that passed meant another opportunity for disaster. My fingers tightened on Peeka’s spike, gripping tight enough to cause pain.
