Chapter 8: The Stables

I creak open the front door in the early hours of the morning, just as the sun begins to breach the horizon. I sigh, stepping out into the cool air and closing the door softly behind me. I have barely gotten any sleep; a few hours is all I managed. But I wasn’t going to let it stop me from my plans. I was going to join this hunt—uninvited—and I was going to return home with some sort of gain.

Pulling the sheepskin cloak close around me, I set off down the path and through the village. My father was still asleep when I left, and would remain so for a few hours. My mum wasn’t home: she would be at the stables, saddling horses; I’ll have to be careful to avoid her.

My breath comes out as fog as I walk quickly through the village. A few distant lights alert me of the Guard. I huff. They’re actually doing their jobs now?! Convenient.

As the lights get closer, quiet voices echo through the night. I sigh, ducking into an ally and forcing myself to be still. I hug my small bag closer to be, trying to remain unseen. It’s not late enough in the morning for me to be outside and not be questioned about it.

I press my back up against the wood as a glow approaches and the murmuring voices grow louder. I grip the leather of my bag tighter just as they reach the entrance to the ally.

Quick, quiet breaths escape my lips and puff out as mist in front of my eyes, reminding me of how cold it is. I close my eyes, completely flattering myself against the wood as I hope they don’t see me.

The footsteps grow louder before they stop.

“Through there?” A gruff voice asks.

“No. We covered that distract two minutes ago! Don’t you know anything?! We don’t double back until it’s been an hour. Besides, I see a fire down by the storehouse. Let’s check it out.” A female replies sternly, annoyance clear in her voice.

A few voices murmur their agreements and the footsteps carry on, fading out of hearing sight. Only then do I open my eyes and let out the breath I was holding. “Whew,” I mutter, relieved.

Pushing myself off the wall, I hurry down the ally. Knowing the village and all it’s routes well, I quickly work my way down towards the stables, sticking to shadows as much as possible.

This works pretty well for me until I’m nearly at the stables. “Damn it!” I complain. There is a clearing I have to cross to get to the stables. Three guards are standing, well, on guard, so I can’t just walk across.

The number of times I’ve done this! I honestly should be used to it! I think to myself as I crouch behind a house. I have snuck outside at night so many times over the years…I’d actually say it’s on average of about twice a week since I was…maybe eight? It’s no wonder I know the forest so well!

Glancing around the area, I note everything that could be important. The ground is only dirt, with the occasional stone slab popping up. Grass never grows here: if it does it’s set on fire, flattened, or ripped from its routes within days of sprouting. I am standing amongst three houses. The stable hands and their families live here; they should already be at the stables and getting the horses ready. The stables sit at the edge of the village: some trees have even been cleared so paddocks have been able to be formed at the back end of the stables. A see a few small orange lights: a patrol group is scouting the forest border.

Ok, so I could make a run for it. Just sprint into the open and hope I’m fast enough to dodge the guards at the front of the stables. Maybe I could duck into a stall or a tack room? I huff, frustrated. No, I’ll not be able to do any of it with my side! I’ll never make it halfway before they tackle me!

What would I say to my dad? “Oh, hi father. So I was sneaking out after curfew, I know. But it’s not the first time! I even planned to join a hunting expedition uninvited! But, I was really hoping you would let me join the Army? Because I’m so responsible and mature?” He’d probably exile me.

“The forest?” I mutter hopefully but dismiss the idea quickly. Even if I could make my way to a forest border unseen by the patrol, working my way up to the stables would take forever, and I would most likely be discovered by a patrol group anyway, or worse: a dragon.

To be honest, I don't really have any other options. Well, I could stay here and wait until morning: where walking around is accepted. But the hunt begins in an hour; I would definitely miss it. Besides I am not so sure I could sit still that long.

Sighing, I scan the environment again: hoping some kind of answer will be provided. A speck of green flickers among the trees, and I furrow my eyebrows, scanning back over the area. This time, I spot the green light again but also see a flash of yellow. My eyes widen in surprise when Mora springs out of the bushes, a dead hare clamped in the leopard’s jaw. She trots out in front of the stables, catching the attention of the guards. They start walking towards her cautiously, but she snarls at them, backing up protectively. She doesn’t like being disturbed when she’s with her food.

She turns sharply and walks off. They follow after her, ignoring her agitated body language. I blink in surprise. I was not expecting them to follow her.

Wait! I realise. This is my chance!

Without a second thought, I push myself out of the shadows and limp across the dirt toward the stables, doing my best to be quick and quiet, but my side is pulled with every stride and it has me clenching my teeth. My head is pounding in my ears, matching my quick breaths. What do I say when they see me? What will I say to Father? What if they put me in jail?!

I know it’s only been a few seconds since I ran out of the shadows, but it feels like minutes, maybe even hours, and I don’t let out a single breath until I’m opening the side door and slipping in. I close it gently behind me, turning around to see if anyone is nearby. Down the hall, in the distance, is a stable hand, busy brushing down a horse with her back to me.

To the right are the main doors, the tack and feed room, and the only other entrance to the stables. Warily, I push off from the door. My best bet would be the tack and feed room; there is a lot of stuff in there to hide behind or in.

Glancing at the stable hand, who is still brushing down the horse, I turn and jog down the aisle, trying to tread lightly. A few horses stick their heads out of the stalls and nicker at me as I pass, but I ignore them.

Getting to the tack and feed room, I push the door open, darting into the room and pulling it closed behind me. Letting out a breath, I look around the empty room. On the far wall, there are woven bags, bales of hay, and several metal bins filled to the brim with feed. Everywhere else in the room has tack; like saddles or blankets.

A sudden uproar of voices and footsteps approaching gains my attention, so I move to the back of the room and hide between a few hay bales and a saddle. I stay still and silent, on edge as I listen to the main doors to the stables being opened.

“Anyone want to bet with me?” A cocky voice calls out.

“Sure, I’ll bet that the rest of us will get something, but you won’t!” Another male’s voice responds.

“Oh, really? That’s how much faith you have in me?!”

“Yep! I’ll bet you ten coins that you’ll be back empty-handed!”

“Fine. But I’ll show you!”

I let out a quiet breath of relief; they’re only the soldiers getting ready for the hunt.

Oh no, the hunt! I need to hurry up and get a horse saddled! Or I’ll be late!

I rush out of my hiding place and for the bridles, calculating in my mind which horse I should take. Feeling my hands close around a red bridle, I have decided which horse to take. But I freeze when a voice comes from behind me.

“What are you doing?”