Playing The Victims [BL]

Chapter One Hundred & Thirty-Seven | Fourth World

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It was a particularly cold morning the morning Falcon prepared to set out on horseback, along with three other men who were specifically chosen. Whilst everyone else felt the tension creeping across their shoulders and preventing them from going about their normal routine, the youngest of their two leaders appeared not to be restricted by these same feelings. Falcon sat with a straight back, particular furs draped over his shoulders and adding to the layers of security that his outfit already gave him.

But in order for him to be able to ride a horse, the material around his groin and upper thighs had to be slackened. So as he sat on the back of the horse Finch had aptly named 'Beasty', the toned skin of his muscular thighs was faintly visible. It was just enough to leave a few faces flushed and more women scurrying to join his queue of suitors.

Everyone was willing to stand in the bitter cold if it meant that Falcon would feel that overwhelming sense of support. Even children hugged their parent's legs as they looked at their leader with an expression akin to forced bravery. The little warriors, probably for the first time, feeling that spark of determination to stay strong for their new family.

Falcon noticed it all. His silver eyes, which almost matched the morning frost that surrounded them, were calm even when faced with the highly unpredictable environment he would soon be entering. The morning dew which had instantly frozen upon the caress of the morning wind, crunched under the feet of the large stead he sat upon.

Beasty became restless with so many around him yet with no action taking place. He flicked back his head and huffed, grabbing his rider's attention and also that of his littlest handler. Those big dark eyes of Beasty locked onto the face and then hands of the individual who had fed him with care that morning.

Seeking food, Beasty unexpectedly stepped forward a few steps without care. It led him away from the cluster of people wishing the leader good luck, and towards a few individuals who stood off to the side. Finch was among them, and he was more surprised than anyone when the horse willingly approached him.

Except for those well-wishers which were focused on the men who would be shortly following Falcon on this mission, the rest turned their heads and watched as the horse took the initiative to walk in the direction of their other leader.

But it wasn't Fyre the horse was interested in. Beasty vocalised his desires before intending to nudge the youngest man of the group. Which Finch swiftly avoided, still wary of letting the horse get too close to his head. He put his cold hand on the beast's snout, trying to calm it down while visibly trying to hide his discomfort. Although him and the horse had come leaps and bounds in such a short time, when the monstrous creature suddenly trotted over to him, Finch's old habits resurfaced.

Falcon swooped a hand down and clapped it against the side of Beasty's neck. In attempt to coax the horse away from the target it had currently set its eyes on. But the petulant steed ignored him and managed to nudge Finch in the side. Poking around and sniffing.

"You fat horse, I already gave you your breakfast!" Finch hissed, pushing Beasty's head away.

Behind him, Fyre laughed. The experienced horse-rider stepped forward and slightly in front of Finch while not showing any movements that would scare the eager horse. "Now, now. I'm sure he was just saying goodbye. Beasty's obviously put a lot of trust in you, even when you repeatedly call him a barrel with legs."

The horse was obviously far from being of that description, but it was easier for Finch to feel safer when visualising the horse being chunky instead of rippling with muscle that could kill him if trampled. Regardless, he was thankful for Fyre's intervention. Because it wasn't the horse he wanted to warn to be safe.