Evanha, the little white mare
Dec. 14th, 2010 09:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
clare_dragonflyTitle: Evanha
Word count: 577
Rating: G
Prompt: Daughters of Clio: little white horse
Notes: I knew what I was going to write almost the instant I read the prompt, based on something I'd already decided about this world. I don't think I'll continue it, but it's a fun little piece.
"I don't care!" Bheneg shouted. "We don't have room for horses, and we don't know how long we're going to be traveling!"
"But how will she survive without me?" Thezan cried.
"Just like all the other horses. She'll eat whatever plants are still around." Bheneg shook his head. As a matter of fact, he rather doubted that the little white mare--bred for looks, not hardiness or strength--was going to survive for very long without her human caretaker. But if he'd been in charge, such horses would never have been bred in the first place. "If we were able to bring any horses with us, we would bring the strongest ones anyway."
"Evanha has better qualities than strength! She is beautiful, and she amuses the children!"
"When we get wherever we're going you can start a new breeding program," Bheneg said. "I'm sure
you'll be able to breed another one. Maybe this one will be even more beautiful then Evanha."
"There is no horse more beautiful than Evanha."
"Not yet, maybe. Now get packing. Bring what you need… as long as it’s not a horse.”
The next day, the last items were packed onto the ship: perishable food, the chickens, and finally, all the refugees and their personal items. Bheneg was in charge, and he was in his element, shepherding everyone around, making sure they all fit. The only part he wasn’t going to like was the journey, and the arrival. He had no idea what they were going to do when they got there. But he put that out of his mind.
He helped a woman and her young child—one of the few who’d survived, or escaped, the plague—pick out their hammocks, then jogged back up onto deck and off to the land to help carry a box. Then he stopped short.
Thezan was there. And he was leading Evanha.
Bheneg marched up to him and pushed a finger into his chest. “Stop right there. What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m bringing her,” Thezan said stubbornly. “There’s space. She’ll be fine.”
Well, if arguing before hadn’t helped, arguing now certainly wasn’t going to. Bheneg threw up his hands. “Fine. She’s staying on deck, and you can feed her with your rations. And if she gets injured, or we run out of food, we. Are. Eating. Her. Understand?”
Thezan nodded, glaring into Bheneg’s eyes. Bheneg shrugged and got out of the way. Thezan and the horse walked forward. Thezan walked onto the gangplank. The horse stopped.
Bheneg didn’t make any secret out of laughing out loud when Thezan fell backward, his pull on the rope easily counterbalanced by even the little horse’s weight.
They continued packing the boat and getting people onto it around him, though there wasn’t much left to do. Much as Thezan pulled, cajoled, and ordered, the white horse would not take a single step onto the gangplank.
“Bheneg, we’ve got to go,” said Turen, the man at the prow. “The tide’s going to be against us if we wait any longer.”
“Fine,” he said, with a nod, and turned toward Thezan. “Hey! Either leave that horse behind or stay behind with her! We’re going!” He turned away and walked over to check on the chickens. Someone else would pull up the gangplank whatever Thezan chose.
Thezan did end up joining him, but he never found out whether there was any horse more beautiful than Evanha. But that’s another story.
Word count: 577
Rating: G
Prompt: Daughters of Clio: little white horse
Notes: I knew what I was going to write almost the instant I read the prompt, based on something I'd already decided about this world. I don't think I'll continue it, but it's a fun little piece.
"I don't care!" Bheneg shouted. "We don't have room for horses, and we don't know how long we're going to be traveling!"
"But how will she survive without me?" Thezan cried.
"Just like all the other horses. She'll eat whatever plants are still around." Bheneg shook his head. As a matter of fact, he rather doubted that the little white mare--bred for looks, not hardiness or strength--was going to survive for very long without her human caretaker. But if he'd been in charge, such horses would never have been bred in the first place. "If we were able to bring any horses with us, we would bring the strongest ones anyway."
"Evanha has better qualities than strength! She is beautiful, and she amuses the children!"
"When we get wherever we're going you can start a new breeding program," Bheneg said. "I'm sure
you'll be able to breed another one. Maybe this one will be even more beautiful then Evanha."
"There is no horse more beautiful than Evanha."
"Not yet, maybe. Now get packing. Bring what you need… as long as it’s not a horse.”
The next day, the last items were packed onto the ship: perishable food, the chickens, and finally, all the refugees and their personal items. Bheneg was in charge, and he was in his element, shepherding everyone around, making sure they all fit. The only part he wasn’t going to like was the journey, and the arrival. He had no idea what they were going to do when they got there. But he put that out of his mind.
He helped a woman and her young child—one of the few who’d survived, or escaped, the plague—pick out their hammocks, then jogged back up onto deck and off to the land to help carry a box. Then he stopped short.
Thezan was there. And he was leading Evanha.
Bheneg marched up to him and pushed a finger into his chest. “Stop right there. What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m bringing her,” Thezan said stubbornly. “There’s space. She’ll be fine.”
Well, if arguing before hadn’t helped, arguing now certainly wasn’t going to. Bheneg threw up his hands. “Fine. She’s staying on deck, and you can feed her with your rations. And if she gets injured, or we run out of food, we. Are. Eating. Her. Understand?”
Thezan nodded, glaring into Bheneg’s eyes. Bheneg shrugged and got out of the way. Thezan and the horse walked forward. Thezan walked onto the gangplank. The horse stopped.
Bheneg didn’t make any secret out of laughing out loud when Thezan fell backward, his pull on the rope easily counterbalanced by even the little horse’s weight.
They continued packing the boat and getting people onto it around him, though there wasn’t much left to do. Much as Thezan pulled, cajoled, and ordered, the white horse would not take a single step onto the gangplank.
“Bheneg, we’ve got to go,” said Turen, the man at the prow. “The tide’s going to be against us if we wait any longer.”
“Fine,” he said, with a nod, and turned toward Thezan. “Hey! Either leave that horse behind or stay behind with her! We’re going!” He turned away and walked over to check on the chickens. Someone else would pull up the gangplank whatever Thezan chose.
Thezan did end up joining him, but he never found out whether there was any horse more beautiful than Evanha. But that’s another story.