She felt nothing when she heard the arrow in her shoulder snap off
against the stallion's heaving flank. Her feet bounced once on the
ground as the stallion lunged forward, and she dropped and bounced her
feet again in a coordinated leap and sailed upwards with a sharp
two-fisted pull on his black flowing mane, and she twisted her torso
and legs upwards with the benefit of the transferred momentum and
leverage.
Suddenly she was up and riding, with the black stallion's hooves
pounding the earth in a thundering tempo as he carried her swiftly away
and left all behind. Si'Wren was so small and light that her horse ran
virtually unimpeded, whereas her pursuers were large men equipped with
heavy weapons and armor, all of which was a respectable burden for
their mounts.
Ignoring the stub-end of the arrow in her numbed shoulder, Si'Wren
ducked her head down and dropped her eyes to the neck of her steed,
hearing the steady blast of breath from his muzzle as the shafts of two
embedded arrows vibrated in a rhythmic blur to the thunder of his
galloping hooves.
Small rivulets of blood pulsed redly from the arrows as he maintained
his breakneck gallop, and Si'Wren wondered at his unrelenting power in
the face of such injuries as his hooves pounded, pounded, pounded the
ground tirelessly with the wind whipping his black mane into her bowed
face and stinging her eyes to wind tears.
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