His Wounded Heart Beats For One (Levi x Reader Fanfiction)

8: A New Companion for the Road Ahead

The glossy black eyes stare at you, and you stare right back. Thick eyelashes adorn the eyelid that blinks, as dark in color as the fur surrounding it. Massive nostrils flare as the creature huffs, its neck craning forward to reach its interesting new guest. You don't back away as it touches its muzzle to your shoulder, its wet nose dampening your shirt.

"He's polite, as you can tell," the stableman says, though it's hard to hear him on the other side of the horse's neck. The animal raises his head as he inspects your aura, sniffing here and there before snorting. "Didja like the way he rides?"

"Absolutely." You open your palm far below the horse's chin, and he hesitantly dips down into your hand before retracting. He returns after a few moments, continuing the slow welcome until he's comfortable enough to let you touch his cheek without recoiling. You pet tenderly, moving to his forehead to establish your passivity. "Thanks for giving me the chance to ride him. He might be exactly what I need."

"Yup. He's a beaut, alright." The stableman sags against one of the posts holding up the barn, scratching his unkempt beard. "We found 'im in the woods several months ago, but he's as passive as our home-bred foals. A kind fella."

"And strong, too." You watch the horse's ears twitch as they flick away pestering flies. "Does he have good stamina?"

"Mmhmm. My boss says he could be as strong as the military horses. That's jest what he says, though. Them Scout ponies are a whole 'nother level."

"They are," you agree, remembering the few instances of your father returning home on his personal, mighty steed. His horse was a muscular beast, its chestnut coat shimmering in the sunlight brilliantly. The dark animal before you doesn't look quite as fantastical, but the thick roof of the barn prevents the proper lighting to illuminate this performer. "That's a big claim," you note. "Those horses are raised specifically for the military."

"Just what he said." The man shrugs.

"Well, I don't need a warhorse or anything. Just one with good stamina, and able to carry a saddle pouch." You drag your palm to the horse's broad neck, grateful for the privilege to touch the vulnerable area. Scratching the horse's stiff fur, you examine his back in the dim light.

You're fairly certain you want the horse in front of you, thinking he's the most capable of his stablemates. The trip to Keiski is incredibly inconvenient, and after dithering over what method would be best, you settled on buying a horse. Maybe overkill, but there's this lingering sense of necessary preparation, like this next venture with the Scouts isn't the last time you'll need to travel. Having a horse of your own will be nice, and will give you more freedom for future explorations.

"He can do it," your seller guarantees. "He can take carts, too. A stagecoach if he has a partner."

"No need for a wagon or stagecoach or anything." You run your hand over the coarse mane. "He'll suit me just fine, I think. Any reason he hasn't been purchased already?"

"Price," the stableman answers. "He don't come cheap. Plus, the fat cats don't want a horse that hasn't been domesticated since birth. They're picky prudes."

You're pleased with the perfect animal that has yet to be secured by any curious buyer, and hope the horse can live up to your requirements. He's well-fed, and his frame nearly matches the muscular physique of your father's steed. He can compare to the mares of the Scout Regiment, you want to believe. "I see. Well, it's his lucky day, then. I'd like to purchase him."

The price the stableman lists will certainly take a decent chunk out of your first stipend from the Scouts, but you think it's worth it. You probably won't find a horse as nice as this one ever again.