|
She was there, almost there! And Jehan not yet insight--perhaps her luck was changing. Perhaps the gecko that Jehan had tattooed for her would bring her luck.
Gitana grinned, could not help but grin, as the trees grew closer. She was heedless of the ground beneath, thinking herself a rather fine rider in her way, believing there was nothing to fear in the slightest. Only when Kizzy's hooves skidded and shifted poorly against the moss did she feel the first stab of fear and panic. She gripped her legs tight around the mare's waist, her hands reaching to grasp at the mane desperately. She could feel the horse moving in a dangerous way and, her voice caught soundless in her throat, she felt herself tumbling, her hands grasping at empty air.
When she landed, she gasped, feeling pain rocket through her. Miraculously almost that she was alive. Luck? Was this luck? She lay there, sore and hurting, gasping for her breath as she calmed her shattered nerves. She stared up the way that she had come, a slope slick with rocks and moss, and supposed she should have been surprised that all she felt was sore and bruised.
Gradually she gathered herself, looking around and feeling uncomfortable on top of all the pain. The Dolwoods. She knew she was in the Dolwoods...but she had a poor idea for the geography; for all that they traveled the roads through these woods almost every era, they rarely left the roads to wander beyond them. Only with horses and groups did they brave the Dolwoods. She stared back up the slope, wondering what had become of Kizzy, if she was all right. She didn't seem to have come tumbling down after her rider--a good thing, perhaps, or maybe Gitana'd been trambled--but there was no sign of her at the crest of the slope. Not that she could see the very top anyway. The rocks made sure of that.
"Jehan?" she called out, wondering if he'd be able to hear her. "Jehan!"
She looked around her, rubbed her forehead with a wince, feeling that bump that seemed to have formed on her head. She shifted towards the stream nearby and crouched down beside it, caring little that the hem of her skirts dragged in the water as she lowered her hands into it. She used the water to rub at some of the dirt that had gathered on her arms. If Jehan couldn't hear from here, she'd have to start looking for a way back out. But she didn't want to wander too far. Didn't want to risk getting herself lost in these woods, having heard plenty of tales herself.
Still crouched by the river, she turned a little so that she was staring up the bank. "Jehan, where are you?" she muttered, cringing a little as she shifted again. Her arm was sore, the pressure of the fall having irritated the fresh tattoo. Maybe it was not a good divvus for a ride after all.
|