The Hunter

A new face

"Are we there yet?" I whined and leaned forward as I felt a forceful exhale on the back of my shoulder.

"For the seventh time," Art grumbled behind me and tugged a little on the reins for a change in direction. "No."

"Well, how long is it going to take until we reach that village?" I demanded and rubbed my arms to create some friction. My sweater was still damp and the chilly spring air did very little to dry it but I wasn't going to strip in front of a stranger only to trade coldness for coldness.

"Hopefully we'll be able to reach it before the sun has set," he replied gruffly. "Can you stop moving around? I'm trying to see where we are going."

"Can you like, scoot back?" I countered and edged forward, only to slide back into his chest again.

Never had I appreciated cars more than today- my legs felt sore from several hours of horseback riding and my back ached from constantly having to lean forward to avoid any sort of physical contact with the man behind me. "I'm trying to retain the small amount of personal space I still have left. This horse is really small."

The black stallion bellow us neighed in protest and Art patted him on the shoulder reassuringly. Feeling a pang of guilt, I patted the horse awkwardly as well.

"Silence yourself," Art ordered me. "I'm being serious. For every word you speak, my headache worsens a tenfold."

"Same," I frowned and held up my pointy finger, "and in addition to that, for every minute that passes, the risk of me developing a severe case of pneumonia worsens. So cry me a river- or wait, you don't have to because I'm already soaked to the bone from that time you made me fall into a pre-existing river. Remember that? Yeah, good times."

"By the corpses of Haidez massacre," the man behind me grumbled again and in my peripheral view I noticed him looking up at the sky. "Why did I decide to take her on?"

"Because you realized that you couldn't be the Lone Ranger anymore and since I'm currently more lost than headlice on a bald guy, I graciously allowed you to have me as your side-kick until we find the portal back to my world," I summarized for him and let my hand drop from my shoulder to my mid-range. I felt myself relax a little as my fingertips came in contact with the cold metal that poked out of my pants lining.

Since my backpack was too big to have between us and I was too unstable on the horse's back to hold it in my arms, it had to hang behind us, together with Art's (or really, the knight's) stuff. That meant that I had to tuck the gun under the waistline of my pants. Even though he didn't know how to use it, I still didn't trust Art to not run off with it. To be safe, I had taken out the bullets and stuffed them in my pockets.

"If you don't stop talking right know, I'm going to drop you off this horse and force you to walk the rest of the mile on your own two legs," he warned me. At least he had stopped talking to the sky.

"You know, for being a man who lives in the medieval times, you lack so much manners towards women. To hog a horse for yourself is no way to treat a lady."

Art barked out a laugh. "I'll start treating you as a lady the moment you start to appear as a lady."

"Are you for real?" I snapped around. "How do I not appear like a lady?"

"Well, you're wearing men's clothes for a start," he replied and poked my thigh, while still maintaining a firm grip on the reigns. "In all the years I've lived, I've never seen a lady wear pants. Children might wear pants, perhaps women in taverns, but never a lady."

"Seriously?" I raised an eyebrow while I stared at the ground beneath us. "That's the logic you're going with? Lots of girls wear pants and- Wait a minute, when you say women in taverns, do you mean like...?"