"Oh, one who pours healing into the sea, spare my poor fins."

Melaina had seen people ride horses before. They looked graceful and elegant, sitting astride the beast as mane and tail flowed out behind them, a banner and wave that caught every eye. It was a beautiful thing to witness.

It was a horrible thing to participate in.

"My tail will be crooked forever," she whined.

She sat astride the mare, her arms wrapped around Alina's waist. The foreign dancer had introduced herself again when she told Melaina the mare's name, after she had offered her a chance to ride. Melaina had (foolishly) agreed with the offer, partly because she had never ridden a horse before and wanted to experience it, and partly to get away from the tavern and all of the people and deadly, supposedly man-eating plants.

Alina was giggling in front of her, no doubt at Melaina's whining voice in her ear. That was fine. She wasn't too concerned. The woman, despite knowing a few words here and there in Tradespeak, was lacking enough in knowledge of the language that Melaina was probably doing little more than confusing her. It didn't matter. What mattered was getting to a place where they could set up camp so she could climb down off this monstrosity of a beast.

"How do you ride this thing all the time?"

Alina shook her head. "We ride."

"Ugh." Melaina dropped her forehead against the dancer's back and groaned, eliciting another giggle from the woman. At least she was a source of entertainment, she supposed. This lack of an ability to communicate between them could prove a problem. Then again, on horseback, with them unable to see each other, they were limited to words and the tightening of Melaina's arms around the woman's waist. Once they were back on the ground, face-to-face, body language and facial expressions would tell more.

She wasn't sure why, beyond wanting to escape and ride the horse (foolish, foolish, foolish), she had chosen to stay in the company of the other woman. Melaina had been notoriously solitary since the death of her mother, rather staying near people and certainly not traveling with them. The only time she spent around them was when she was attempting to pinch coin from them, through quick fingers or a quick tongue, whichever worked best at the time. She had, of course, spent some time tracking the thieves back in Scara Brae, but that hadn't panned out well at all.

Someday.

She shook off the morbid thought. She didn't want that here, not now. They were riding north, bordering the edge of the Concordia Forest. Alina had been doubtful about traveling through it and Moonstrider wouldn't have been able to carry them had they been forced to navigate tree branches and root work.

What a pity,, she thought sourly. Maybe we should make a go for the woods, after all.

The sun was beginning its decent and they wouldn't be able to safely ride in the dark. They did need to stop soon, when there was still enough light that they could gather timber by and start a fire. She had no desire to leave the company of a man-eating plant only to be devoured by a wolf, or whatever haunted the lands outlying the towns.

Melaina exhaled and squeezed her arms tighter to catch Alina's attention. She hesitated, wondering how well this would convey, then simply said, "Stop. It's getting dark."

Stop was apparently a word the woman knew, thank the waves. Moonstrider's pace slowed to a walk.

"Stop?" Alina asked, turning her head.

"Sleep," Melaina clarified. "We need a fire." And my bum could use some peace, while we're at it.