Chioniphobia

Distance

Grim crossed her arms skeptically. "I don't know, dear- I've never been one for horseback riding."

"They're not horses, they're Nightmares," Pitch pointed out.

The odd couple were currently outdoors, under the cover of night sky as the Boogeyman attempted to convince the Reaper that Nightmares were far superior to any other steed.

"And how are mares of the night any different than mares of the day?" Grim pressed.

"Unless I'm very much mistaken, ordinary horses can't fly."

Grim's eyes sparked with longing at the word fly, though she remained resistant to mounting any of the sleek black equine forms surrounding her. She paced indecisively, finally looking back over at Pitch, who was already astride one of the largest Nightmares. "Could I at least get a saddle?"

Pitch scoffed. "You can't saddle a Nightmare. There's no point to it anyway."

"You mean it's physically impossible to saddle them, or they won't let you?"

Grim noted that Pitch ignored that last comment as he continued, "You can't wallow in fear if you hope to ride a Nightmare. Even mild anxiety will make them restless."

"Oh, that's very reassuring. Thank you very much. Why are you giving me riding lessons anyway? Is this your idea of a late Christmas present?"

She didn't see Pitch's hand tighten slightly in the mane of his Nightmare. "Of a sort," he replied dryly. "That, or an early New Year's gift."

"How magnanimous of you. I'd have preferred another bookmark, though- I keep losing the ones I buy for myself."

He rolled his eyes. "And never the ones I give you?"

"Well, they're gifts: I feel obligated to take better care of them," she argued, making her way onto the back of the Nightmare nearest to her.

"Why do you need so many bookmarks?"

"Because I refuse to bend the corners of the pages to mark my place, heathen."

Pitch shook his head. "How many places in a book do you need to mark?"

"Only one," she admitted before sliding off the Nightmare's back.

"Then you should only need one bookmark," the Boogeyman stated as the Reaper fell to the ground.

Standing up and brushing off her robes, Grim made another valiant attempt to mount a Nightmare. "I read more than one book at a time, though," she protested prior to taking another tumble.

"Even if you've lost every single one of your personally bought bookmarks, you should still have about fourteen," Pitch calculated. "How many books are you reading?"

Grim paused before failing a third try at mounting. "Thirty-seven...?"

Pitch sighed, partly from exasperation and partly from frustration at the ridiculous fondness he felt creeping up on him. "You're hopeless."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," she announced the moment preceding her fourth consecutive fall.

Pitch hissed through his teeth and dismounted, plucking Grim up easily and setting her on the back of his Nightmare before re-mounting.

"Considering the display of balancing skill you've given thus far, I'd suggest you hold onto something," he remarked to his passenger.

She obeyed, seizing his sides as the Nightmare galloped up into the sky.

Nightmares could creep and slink along the ground well enough, but in the air they did not linger. So it was that Pitch's steed was darting through the dark of night with the Reaper showing impressive lung capacity, enough so that Pitch eventually glanced back at her irritatedly.