Frog Meets Girl

Chapter 13--Calling Names

This chapter is dedicated to spellboundwriter because, well, she thought of a cooler name for The Viper than I did. I think that deserves some accolades, don't you?

Also, I love this chapter. It was one of those chapters that flowed so easily and is so pivotal to my story. I hope you like it half as much as I do. :)

            Riding astride was so different from riding sidesaddle. Swaying with the rhythm of the horse’s easy gait felt much more natural and less like she would be dislodged and flung to the ground without warning. After a few minutes, she felt the anxious tremors disappear from her legs and she found herself enjoying the sensation of riding.

            The afternoon was quickly becoming the hour early in the evening when the dipping sun paints everything in a golden hue. Small insects glinted as they flitted through the air around them while a gentle breeze ruffled the grass and the nearby trees.

King Daddy had always been careful that her nursemaids never tell stories with magic in them. He said that magic was something that ignorant people clung to. However, in the quiet rhythm of hoof steps and the bay’s steady breathing, she almost believed there was magic in the sunlight, saturating her hair and skin with its effervescent power.

Will was as silent as she, seeming to be drinking in the moments. Several times that day, he’d spoken of racing horses, of the wind whipping his face, of moving as one with an animal while the ground sped by in a blur. He wasn’t much for speaking in poems, so when he’d spoken like that, she knew he felt a connection that she did not understand, a spiritual connection of some sort.

Maybe it was curiosity, wanting to feel that alive, that did it. Perhaps it was just to do something nice just because Will would enjoy it. Possibly, it was a streak of recklessness. Gabby nudged the horse, urging him to go a little faster.

The bay picked up his feet, the thumping of his hooves on the ground beat a quicker rhythm and Gabby adjusted herself to move with him at this faster pace.

Faster, she nudged him. Her heart beat harder, pumping in rhythm with the hoof beats.

Again, faster. The bay began to trot, his hooves now beating a staccato, and Gabby bounced on his back. At first, she felt some fear returning as she struggled to regain her sense of rhythm and balance. Confidence. The word popped into her thoughts. She focused and after a moment, fell into an easy rhythm with her legs holding her steady.

Faster.

Faster.

Faster. The wind began to lick her cheeks and caress her hair; its coolness soothed hidden aches. Old worries began to disappear, brushed off by the stiff breeze and left behind on the grass behind her.

Faster. Cantering now, Gabriella had to shift again to move with the new gait. It was smoother, rolling, sweet in her stomach. In many ways, it was easier to ride at this bold speed than the conservative, almost tentative trotting.

She felt the horse responding to her as she responded to the horse in a cycle bordering on unity. Gabby knew he wanted to run, not just a jog, but really run. The kind of running that leaves everyone and everything behind, the kind of running that leaves you tingling and breathless. Running that made you feel powerful.

Gabby wanted it too. She leaned forward, concentrating, and gave the horse her signal. Yes. Let’s do this.

The bay opened up into a full gallop and Gabby had to contain a shout of exhilaration. Her skirts billowed behind her in a purple cloud, hair trailing like the tail of an auburn comet, as the horse’s hooves tore up large chunks of earth.