Post by Deleted on Jun 25, 2015 21:12:29 GMT -8
when the streets are empty,
and everyone’s asleep,
they go erasing the past.
It’s like a bad Ray Bradbury story.
Stevie hummed quietly to herself. The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon, a welcome change to the darkness that had kept her company on this early morning patrol. She had been in the saddle for several hours by now, and although this was easy duty compared to the ranch, Stevie looked forward to dismounting. Breakfast beckoned, and she had a dull hope in the back of her stomach that Naomi might have had the inspiration to make breakfast breads. (He didn't always, and he didn't always cook or bake for all of Camp Isis.)
Waking hours before dawn sucked no matter what the task entailed. A granola bar on the way to the stables did not make up for a picked-over dinner plate, or the promise of food lurking just beyond her duties. Still, she had been in worse situations before. At least today's patrol had her mounted on Kitty. Sometimes the rotation had her on Shaqir for an early-morning patrol, and he was too much to deal with this early in the morning. Kitty knew the borders of Camp Isis as well as Stevie did by now, and he was the equivalent of a second demigod on patrol. (Okay, so honestly, Stevie preferred her equine back-up over most of the demigods here. The Pharaohs always seemed to snatch the best fighters for their Hounds, and Stevie didn't quite have enough clout to consistently get her Eyes on patrol with her. Unfair, that.)
Kitty steered her around one of the boulders that marked the magical boundary to the camp. He had settled into his long-trek walk, which was not precisely a 'gait', but was distinctly different from his usual walk. It was comfortable, but Stevie still shifted in the saddle. She moved her right hand away from her loose hold on the reins to check on her sword. Intellectually she knew that the chances it had moved into a dangerous position were slim. The rifle sling on her saddle had been tested during mountain trekking, in much tougher terrain than they had covered in the past few hours.
Intellect had little to do with the unsettled fear that her world had changed since she had last checked. She wrapped her hand around the unmoved hilt, leather glove against leather grip. It reassured her, and she took the reins in both hands once more. She didn't need to; Kitty wasn't nearly as prone to wandering as the Thoroughbreds, and he had better manners than to try to snatch a mouthful of grass while wearing his bit like certain Arabs. She'd never admit to it, but she trusted Kitty enough that she may] have indulged in the occasional nap while riding. Certainly never while doing patrol. Never then. Never, in fact.
Except that one time.
Today, she was alert enough that when they reached the next magic anchor, she could see that there was something . . . off . . . about it. She dropped her reins, and pushed her feet against the stirrups enough to sink her pelvis deeper into the saddle. Kitty stopped at the cue, and Stevie kicked both feet free of stirrups before leaning backwards. She lifted her left leg up and over the saddle horn, and landed on both feet - a little less lightly than she would have liked, but she didn't so much as sway as her bent knees and ankles took the force of the landing. The reins dropped, effectively ground-tying her well-trained stud.
It was just light enough now that Stevie could clearly see exactly what had set off her alarm. The anchor stone had a new addition to it, just enough of a change in the protective hieroglyphs to allow an individual to slip past the magic. Protective magics being one of Stevie's specialties, she pictured the proper configuration of what should be on the anchor. With that firmly in mind, she placed her left hand on the alteration, and breathed over her fingertips. The stone righted itself with a little zap of energy. It raced up her arm, almost in apology for having dared to get out of sorts.
"I will have to tell Brother-mine," she told her spotted stallion as she rubbed her hands together to free them of excess magic. She would have to remember to eat extra heartily at breakfast, if Aaron didn't insist on it. Magic came with a price, and Stevie was running on low reserves at it was.
Brutally reminded of her hunger, Stevie dug into her pockets in the hope that she might have nabbed an extra one on her way out the door that morning. To her disappointment, she had not.
Word Count 775
Ensemble
Kitty’s tack | sword sling
disclaimer – Stevie executes a reverse dismount here. This is not a beginner move, and can be very dangerous in real life.