RP Session 4: "A Halfday's Ride"

With a few sharp barks the sheep began to file back towards their pasture, and the moment that the flock was thin enough to ride through the six riders once more spurred their steeds to as much haste as they dared, praying that this would indeed be their final flight from overwhelming peril. The night was growing dark and the farm trails were uneven, rugged, and full of rabbit holes and tough tufts of grass, and they were forced to balance caution against haste with every step.

Worse still, at their backs the party of riders coming up from the distance stopped by the shed where they'd been waylaid by the shepherds, and then the party divided, with a small group returning they way they'd come and the bulk riding into the fields behind them. Their horses were fresh, not burdened with travelling provisions, swift. With every minute that they rode these pursuers were slowly gaining ground on them.

They rode for a couple of miles as evening finally turned into night, following the newcomer's urgent lead. But too often Rory found himself reigning in his steed to wait as the grimly determined riders caught up. Only the squire called Corson, who looked more than comfortable with long rides in rough terrain, was keeping pace.

As they passed over a low fence however Tovrunn's high-stepping mare stumbled on the landing and fell, rolling onto her side and pitching her rider into the mud on the far side. The hardy Rjurik was wise enough to roll with the momentum, with only a few scrapes and bruises to show for the spill, but righting Fegrð and making sure she wasn't injured cost precious time.

Every time Rory glanced back their pursuers were closer.