My little Dragon {Natasha x Daenerys}

Chapter 7

Sorry for any misspellings words or errors :)
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In the middle of the field where the queen had been abducted, Natasha positioned herself. Dismounting from Thunder's back, she knelt onto the ground to inspect the imprints left by the horse's hooves in the grass. "Hmm... Hoof marks. They can't have ventured too distant. It appears they might have been moving for an hour or two, give or take," Natasha murmured softly. Observing the trail that lay before her, she remounted Thunder and lightly urged him onward, guiding him along the path indicated by the hoof prints.

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(With Milo, and Ser Jorah)

As sixty relentless minutes ticked away, the two men forged ahead, their relentless pursuit leaving them on the brink of a startling discovery. Amid the rugged terrain, they stumbled upon a gathering of bones, their origin unmistakably linked to a ram's stout frame.

"Goat?" Milo queried, his steed patiently awaiting his command, while Jorah meticulously delved into the skeletal remains, his curiosity piqued.

"Ram," Jorah affirmed, his attention firmly anchored to the intricate bone fragments under his discerning scrutiny.

Milo pondered the grim tableau before them. "You reckon our companion took it down?" he inquired, the mention of Drogon hanging heavy in the air like an ominous specter.

Jorah, still entranced by the evidence before him, did not break his concentration as he responded. "Can't imagine anything else capable of liquefying a ram's horn," he said, his voice tinged with a mixture of awe and dread.

With a resigned sigh, Milo acknowledged the sobering implications of their discovery. "So, it seems we're on the right course," he conceded, his eyes scanning the vast expanse of the field, where the clues to their queen's whereabouts lay scattered.

Jorah, having completed his meticulous examination, carefully returned the bone to its resting place in the field before remounting his horse, which stood adjacent to Milo, their resolve unwavering as they continued their relentless pursuit through the unforgiving landscape.

Under the vast expanse of the open field, the two men rode their horses in tandem, their hooves leaving imprints in the earth as they moved. The sun hung high on the sky. A heavy silence enveloped them, broken only by the words that eventually spilled from Milo's lips.

"Perhaps she's tired of being queen," Milo mused, his gaze fixed ahead. "I don't think she likes it very much."

Jorah, riding beside him, turned his weathered face towards Milo, his eyes carrying the weight of experience. "She's too smart to like it," he replied, his voice tinged with resignation.

"Maybe she's flown somewhere else, somewhere far away from men like us," Milo suggested, a nonchalant shrug punctuating his words. His wish, unspoken but palpable, hung in the air like an unfulfilled dream.

"I've been all over the world," Jorah remarked, his tone heavy with the weight of his own journeys and tribulations. "There's no escaping men like us."

Milo, still scanning the field for any sign that might lead them to their elusive queen, redirected his gaze towards Jorah. "There's no escaping her, eh? You keep coming back. Why?" he inquired, curiosity lacing his words.

Jorah sighed, his eyes distant as he contemplated his unwavering loyalty. "You know why," he said, his voice carrying a hint of sorrow, a testament to the unrequited love that had become the cornerstone of his existence.