Green Rider by Kristen Britain Page B

they pick up on her trail again. Every so often, she felt as if she were being watched, and was seized by an unnerving urge to glance repeatedly over her shoulder. But she never saw any evidence of pursuit, and The Horse didn't seem concerned at all. Could it be that the spirit of F'ryan Coblebay still followed?
    At midday, she sat on a rock while chewing on a piece of dried meat. The Horse wandered nearby, cropping at grass that grew in the road and swishing his tail at flies. Karigan slapped at her own neck. The biters had emerged in abundance after all the wet weather.
    After only a few days on the road since her stay at Seven Chimneys, she missed all the little comforts provided by the Berry sisters—the soft bed, hot tea, fragrant baths, and especially the conversation. It had been all very civilized. She kept the gifts bestowed upon her by the sisters close to her. The moonstone remained in her trouser pocket, and the bayberry sprig and bunchberry flower were tucked in an inner pocket of the greatcoat. Whenever she removed them, they were uncrushed and unwilted, and yet, she wasn't surprised.
    The Horse nickered and looked toward the sky, blades of grass sticking out of the corners of his mouth. Karigan followed his gaze, shielding her eyes against the glare of the sun. Far above an enormous eagle circled. His size and dull coloring indicated he was one of the rare gray eagles who lived in the Wingsong Mountains. They were seldom seen so far from their mountain realm, and never at close range. Her natural history instructor, Master lone, would give up his master's knot to see what she now watched.
    The eagle rode the currents, rising higher and seeming to float on the air, then swooped lower as though watching something. Karigan could imagine the feathers on his wings rippling, and the wind roaring in his ears. What breathtaking sights he must see from so high up! Could he see beyond the expanse of the Green Cloak to the sea? Could he see the spires of his own mountain peak home?
    The eagle's circle widened—he was definitely searching for something—prey most likely. He hovered for a moment, as if frozen in time, before veering southward and out of sight. The Horse snorted and resumed his grazing.
    At dusk they followed a deer trail to find a campsite for the night. Karigan winced at the thought of sleeping on the ground again, certain that her back would never be the same after so many nights of rocks and roots. Her precious, albeit bedraggled, blanket from Selium helped, but it was certainly no feather bed.
    Biters buzzed in her ears. It was feeding time, and they chewed on any bit of flesh she left uncovered. The Horse shook his whole body to relieve himself, and almost dislodged Karigan from the saddle in the process.
    She scratched at a new row of welts on the back of her neck, wishing for a jar of priddle cream, obtained from the horrible smelling priddle plant, more often called stinky weed. Despite the pungent odor, or because of it, it was by far the best repellent against biters. Wishes were as solid as air, however, and she was no more likely to come across a pot of priddle cream as she was to sleep in a feather bed.
    Without warning, The Horse stopped dead in his tracks and laid back his ears. Karigan paused her scratching.
    "What's wrong?" she whispered. "I don't see anything."
    There were any number of things in the deepening shadows of the woods that could spook a horse, though this horse was not easily spooked. Karigan waited for a moment, and when she didn't hear or see anything, she urged him forward. He resisted and stepped backward instead.
    "I still don't see— " Off to their right, the underbrush rustled. "—Anything." The last word crept out in a whisper.
    Karigan's eyes darted from shadow to shadow, searching for the source of the noise, but silence hung thick in the woods as if all the creatures within waited with bated breath for something to happen. The reins became slimy in her sweaty