Red Fang Chapter 8

They rode out a few days later at the head of a column of mounted soldiers, following a path that wend its way to the west and towards Fishholme. Waterfowl leapt from the wetlands in the north and formed intricate formations as they flew across the cloudless sky, while to the south woodland and pasture sprouted from the sides of a low ridge that started in Arshen and ran deep into the land of The Thousand Lakes.

“What a wondrous day,” King Aeld exclaimed from atop his horse. He rode with the confidence of a man trained from birth to lead, but with a casualness that to Toli seemed almost reckless, considering the meeting was a perfect opportunity for an ambush. “Truly, it is good to be alive.” “It is, sire,” Toli said, slowing his horse so that the king was always leading the column, one of Captain Barrow’s many commands. Boris was technically in the lead, along with the handful of men riding with him, but they were a hundred yards in front and could only be seen when the path straightened up. Boris rode the largest horse they had been able to find, a grey carthorse that was as out of place as the giant was. “It is good to be away from the stench of that town and out here in the wilds where the air is clear. When the men are inactive for too long, they soon fall to the degeneracy that exists inside all of us.” King Aeld sat easily in the saddle and let the horse find its own speed. Toli would have preferred a faster pace, but he was in no position to give the king an order.

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