Coldwalker [I}

Coldwalker topped the frozen ridge and looked out over the vast expanse of the Moranionn Hills. His hooves crunched in the snow as be began to make his way down. The Arechbelle family followed after him. The matriarch Dianea made up the rear, while her eldest daughter Cierra was right behind Coldwalker, with the youngest son Jacobs in between them. Each one led a donkey laden with goods. They were heading to Loseth, on the other side of this cold and broken land.

Coldwalker’s breath rolled out in great clouds of steam. This was the fourth time he had made this journey. It was not a trip he particularly liked to make. The desolate hills were far from the plains of Vyke, where his mares waited beneath the evergreens. But this was his sire’s profession. Tradition called on him to carry on his sire’s profession, even though such tradition was not meant for the human professions.

“Mr. Coldwalker?” Cierra called out. “The sun is setting. Where shall we stop for the night?”

The centaur looked ahead. “There is a clump of trees down in that valley. We’ll camp there.”

Cierra called to her mother and told her of Coldwalker’s plan. He heard her screech about the distance. It didn’t bother him though. She was more interested in getting to Loseth safely than making any real fuss.

The wind began to pick up. This did not worry Coldwalker. The valley would shelter them from most of the chill, and the fire would take care of the rest. Tonight would be an easier night than most.

The quartet picked their way down the frozen hillside. It was slow going. In places, the ground was hard and slick, and Coldwalker and the donkeys had to take it extra slow. Coldwalker took more care than usual. His sire had broken his leg out here, and he had to send his charges on while he lay there and died. That was not going to happen to Coldwalker.

At last the group reached the trees. The orange glow of twilight was falling upon the land, bathing it in rich colour. Coldwalker broke off branches to prepare for a fire, while the Arechbelles laid out the skin for the night.

“How much longer do we have in this land?” Dianea asked Coldwalker as he trotted up with an armful of wood.

He paused and thought. “As many days as it took us to get to this spot, Mrs. Arechbelle. After tonight we cannot go back.”

“Well, this is faster than I expected, and I do thank you for that,” she said. “But it seems like any time in this land is too long.”

Coldwalker chuckled. “That is true, Mrs. Arechbelle. That is true.”

They set up camp beneath the tallest tree in the grove. Coldwalker laid the foundation for the fire, just as his sire had taught him to do almost ten years ago. With deliberate care he brought out his tender and coaxed a flame to life. It hissed and spit as it grew bigger. Coldwalker got out the salted pork and began to cook it.

“How are the animals?” he asked Jakob.

“Fine,” came the reply

“Scrape the snow away from the ground around them,” Coldwalker said. “Uncover whatever grass might be there that would be fit for them to eat.”

Jakob nodded and walked off, pulling the coat closer as he left the warmth of the fire.

“We made good time today,” We’ll ease up tomorrow.”

“Why?” Dianea asked. “The faster we move, the faster we leave this desolate place.”

“The way ahead is rockier than it has been. Those of us that have four legs need to take it carefully.”

Mrs. Arechbelle grumbled but said nothing outright. Coldwalker also said nothing. This was how it had to be. And besides, as much as she was going to pay him, she had the right to grumble a little.

Jakob returned to the fire about the time that the food was ready. Coldwalker handed it out. When they had received their portions, the Arechbelles bowed their heads. Coldwalker did not know which deity they directed their prayers towards, nor did he care. He went ahead and began to eat.

The Arechbelles talked as they ate. They discussed what they would do at the end of the journey and how Dianea hoped to find a friend of hers that would help them settle in at Loseth.

“It has been a few years, but I am still certain she is there, along with her seamstress shop. My hands are not yet too stiff to sew. It will help bring in some extra money.”

“If I had to, I could always find a livery stable to work at,” Jakobs chimed in.

Coldwalker chuckled. Considering how well the boy treated the donkeys, and Coldwalker himself when the centaur wasn’t looking, this came as no surprise.

Ciera gave a thin smile. “You both. I would much rather marry money, rather than work for it.” She giggled as she said that. Her mother just shook her head and laughed along.

“I will be back,” the Arechbelle matriarch said as she got up and trundled away into the gloom.

Coldwalker smiled a bit. Though he had been around quite a few humans, he never understood why they went alone to relieve themselves. He had no such cares. Mrs. Arechbelle did not look kindly upon him when he chose to do so in the middle of the trail. This greatly amused him, so he did it often, though it was a trivial thing.

Cierra rose up from where she sat and walked over to Coldwalker. She sat down against his flank. Her mother would have raised a fit, but it didn’t matter to him. He knew that his body was warm and that, in this land, warmth was a precious thing. If it mattered to others, they could deal with it themselves. Besides, he rather liked speaking with Cierra. To him, she had the most sense out of his charges. Jakob was still too much a foal, and Mrs. Arechbelle too much an old mare.

“Good evening, Cierra,” he said.

She laughed. “Don’t treat me like a client now. Treat me like a friend. Or do you not have any friends?”

“My kind is not much in the habit of making friends. But, if it would make you happy, I will call you my friend.”

She smiled, somewhat pleased with this. “I have always wanted to have a centaur for a friend.”

“Oh, why is that?” Coldwalker asked.

“Well, maybe it’s because you’re both a man and a horse, and since girls have an attraction to both of those, it only makes sense that I would be attracted to both of them when they are combined. And, well, your human half is nice to look at for a girl my age, and your horse half is as good as I’ve seen, and our father owned a great deal of horses, so I know that sort of thing, and...”

“It seems these reasons aren’t so much for centaurs as a whole, but for me.”

Cierra paused. She gave a slight nod. “Yes, I suppose so.”