Victoria (3)

Concern about her fate finally took over.  “What is he like?” she asked.

“What is yours like?” the black rider asked for answer.

Aritka did not know, so she was silent. 

The horse and mule had come out on a worn path now, spanning fifteen feet.  On either side, elder oaks reached for the sky and blocked out rays from the sun.  Roots and sharp rocks lay exposed in the hard packed dirt.  The black rider’s horse walked steadily ahead but the mule lifted and placed his hooves with caution.  The black rider sat erect and alert, turning at any irregular sound.  Aritka fidgeted apprehensively.  Only the child was quiet now, dozing restfully. 

The black rider pulled on the reigns and swung down to the ground.  He signaled Aritka to wait and strutted ahead.  When he crested the hill, he stood to the side against a tree and looked out over the valley beyond.  Presently, he came running back and swung up into the saddle and kicked his horse roughly off the path.  They headed back south through the trees.  “We’ll have to go the long way around,” he muttered to her.

Aritka asked no questions.  After an hour, through the trees, she could see a thatch cottage and stable.  The stone chimney was smoking and there were lights in the window.  The black rider took them all up to the door and jumped down again.  When he had helped Aritka down off the pack mule, he pounded mercilessly on the wood door, which stood partially open.

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To Be Continued....