The Raven

He felt a pain pierce through his back and deep into his chest, nearly knocking him from the blue roan horse he rode. He grunted as he fell forward, one arm grabbing at his aching body and the other at the horse's muscular neck.

'Mm... that should have been me, shouldn't it?' He steadied himself, centering back on the borrowed saddle. 'Well, Marcus, I would have liked to have more appropriately thanked you, but I will do my best to satisfy your request.'

On he rode through the scattered trees of the eastern wood until he reached the sight of a familiar face.

'Dorcus.'

He let out a relieved sigh.

She stood beside a tree with her horse, a dapple gray, looking on at him as he approached. He slowed the horse and called it to a halt.

She watched him through soulful eyes. "You're late," she said as he dismounted, her hands on her hips.