“That hurts.” Abrath pulled her lip up, showing fangs to the nervous stable girl. The servant shied backwards, leaving the straps of the saddle dangling unhooked at the mounts furry sides. Facing down the teeth of a full grown Dacian hellhound the girl looked around quickly for guidance.
“Abrath won’t bite.” Tremare assured the stable hand. He adjusted the cuffs of his riding gloves and favored the young servant with a smile. “She is just being fussy.”
Applying the word fussy to a two hundred stone mass of black fur and horns didn’t sit well with either the girl or Abrath. A swish of Abrath’s feline tail sent a flurry of stableyard dust into the air, covering Tremare’s new brocade coat in a brown dirt. He sniffed and glared up at Abrath.
The stable girl, eyes watering from the sudden dust storm, took a hesitant step back towards the mount she was supposed to be getting ready for the ride. Abrath lowered her head menacingly, displaying the impressively sharply jagged horns rising from her brow.
Tremare waived the stable girl away. There was no arguing with Abrath when she took a dislike to someone. With a move that would have gotten anyone else mauled, Tremare took a hold of one shining horn and moved Abrath’s massive muzzle so they were staring at each other. “You’re being obnoxious.”
He received a snort of hot breath into his face in response. “The child was incompetent. I got pinched.” Abrath said. Unwilling to rip Tremare’s arm from its socket to move her head, the dacian rolled her round russet eyes towards her back where the saddle remained perched and unbuckled.
“The injustice. That is a poor reason to scare the girl.” Tremare sighed, moving his hand to run his fingers through the thick pitch colored fur that fanned from Abrath’s jaw.”We are trying to make friends here, remember?”
“You should make friends who know how to fit a saddle.” Abrath replied.
Tremare gave up with a slight shake of his head. He patted her on the neck and moved to finish the stable girl’s work. Their evening ride was an old ritual Tremare wasn’t willing to give up, even if the sight of Abrath would cement his status as a curiosity. He got the feeling they both needed the break.
I am a thief…. I think? I really don’t know anymore. Supposedly I nicked the first line from Kate Kearney at More Than 1/2 Mad as part of the Legal Theft Project, or maybe I didn’t. Either way, enjoy.