6th day, 3rd ride, March, 1372 DR
The night was uneventful with the exception of four horsemen coming from the Flaming Tower. Roland was on the verge of collapse so we let him sleep some before the horsemen arrived. We decided to change our routine and sleep during the day and walk during the night. It was getting to be quite cold, so walking during the cold and resting during the warmth seemed logical, also, this way we hoped we’d go largely undetected. We didn’t want to make Zandos’ task too easy for him. When we left camp and continued on our trail we encountered the horsemen again, this time heading back towards the tower. A little further up ahead we found their abadonned camp.
Late at night we spotted an Orc camp along the river. Roughly six Orcs by Roland’s guess, too many for us to handle, so we moved into the woods and passed the camp carefully.
Seeing the horsemen got me thinking; I love horses. I have always dreamt of owning a horse…riding a horse…grooming a horse. Before the war Damarans were well known for their horse-riding. Perhaps not quite as formidable as the Riders of Narfell, but Damarans have always had a close bond with horses…it’s been in our blood for countless generations, and though I’ve never owned or ridden a horse, I feel a nostalgic longing, perhaps a sense of national pride, and I would like to purchase a horse, soon. I want to learn how to ride.
During the war all healthy horses were used for war, and all the old ones were used to flee, and later for food. In the beginning of the war you’d see officers riding horses across the battle-field, and even whole charging units of riders. Near the end of the war, and for years afterwards, horses were scarce, and only the richest or most formidable warriors were able to afford them.
I promise this to myself and to Abaddon, that the next time I see Damara and my beloved Steppenhal, I will be on horseback.