Page 147 of A Soul’s Awakening

No, I can do this. She stuck out her chin. “Now, be a good boy for me, Goliath. Step forward and pull out of the tugs,” Eleanor encouraged.

The Seelie Stallion gave a snort through his nostrils and took a strong step forward. He yanked himself free. His huge hooves squashed the emerald grass beneath them as he plodded forward a few more steps. Eleanor lowered the shafts to the ground. She followed after Goliath. The Changeling fiddled with the buckles of the leather harness around his hindquarters and belly, letting them drop.

“Good job!” she praised.

The Changeling hooked the long driving reins that trailed along his back with her fingers. She pulled it forwards with her and she walked the length of his body to his head. Goliath shook his head and snorted. Eleanor wondered if he was excited at the prospect of having the bridle off.

“Can you lower your head?” she asked.

Even with her new height and longer limbs, the stallion was tall compared to the Changeling. The horse curved his neck and lowered his head. Eleanor no longer had to stand on her toes to reach. She gathered the driving reins behind his fluffy ears and bundled it with the head band. The Changeling then lifted it all over his ears and pulled it the rest of the way down Goliath’s face. The horse chewed his jaw several times once the bit had been removed. He pressed his nose to Eleanor’s face and gave her a grateful snort before turning towards the river.

The stallion blundered playfully into the reeds. The teenager giggled as her horse splashed into Sol River until he was knee-deep. Goliath gave a joyful nicker as he pawed at the water with a front hoof, before finally lowering his muzzle to the water to drink.

After Goliath had sated his thirst, he clambered his way back up the riverbank. Eleanor watched as he wandered over and playfully butted his wet muzzle into her chest, leaving a damp stain on her shirt. After receiving several scratches on the soft spot between his nostrils, he lowered his head to the tender spring grass and began to crop at it enthusiastically.

Eleanor eventually wandered over to Lance. “What are you doing?” she asked, watching him unpack and run his gaze over their remaining belongings.

“I am figuring out what we do and don’t have,” he said, sitting cross-legged on the grass next to where Helena slept. “It’s great you got more rations and water bags from Beth. It will be a big help. Your mother and I had water and food ready to go, but it’s wise to have extra.”

“She said that it was the least she could do, with how much I paid her.” Eleanor smiled down at him.

“We probably don’t have enough,” Lance admitted. “The journey home will be a bit slower with your mother’s injuries. We won’t be able to travel as far in one day as we would if she was well. If she was well, it would be us begging to stop for the evening.” He looked up and gave the teenager a conspiratorial wink. “I brought our clothes and the bundle I got back at Bright Sun Inn, so that should be alright.”

Eleanor watched as he gathered the wrapped cheese, flat bread, and dried fruit, and repacked them into the rations bag. Lance picked up the cheese knife and eyed it. He rifled through the bags and found a second one.

Lance pinched the bridge of his nose. Eleanor stifled a giggle. She had seen her mother do that gesture often. She wondered who had picked up the habit from whom. He gathered the knives in one hand and stood. The Merman stooped down again to brush his fingertips over Helena’s cheek. He tucked some escaping strands of hair back behind her ear.

“Is she okay?” Eleanor asked, her eyes dropping to her mother’s sleeping form.

“Her heart and breathing are fine. She’s just exhausted,” Lance responded, straightening up. “I… I think she went through a lot, El. I know you have too. Please, if you need to talk about anything that happened, know that I’m here for you.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Eleanor grinned.

Lance quirked his lips up in response. He gestured around his daughter. “Don’t you need to tie him up?” he asked.

The Changeling looked over her shoulder. The Seelie Stallion had wandered a short distance away from them, eagerly grazing on the tender grass. “No, he’s been tied up enough in his life. Goliath won’t be going anywhere. He really likes being with us.”

The next day, the sky stretched cloudless above them. Lance sat beside Helena in the back of the jostling cart, the heat pressing under his cloak despite the shade of its hood. Sweat beaded along his brow and dripped down his neck. His sensitive eyes throbbed under the glare. Helena shifted slightly against him, still slumbering.

Lance pressed a soft kiss to her head. Wake up properly soon, please. You didn’t eat or drink enough last night to keep you alive.

He furrowed his brow in concern. Helena had woken briefly the night before. She was awake only long enough to choke down some food, sip at some water, and hobble into the bushes, where, with his help, she could relieve herself. After that, she had promptly fallen back to sleep.

By late afternoon, the sun sank low, staining the road in an artist’s palette of pink and orange. Eleanor guided Goliath off to a shady bend near the riverbank, and they set about their camp preparations. She reached for the rations bag, but Lance touched her wrist, stopping her. Then, he pulled the two cheese knives from his belt.

The teenager raised a quizzical eyebrow at him. “What are you doing with those?”

“Want to help me with dinner?” he asked. “We need these for that.” Lance nodded down at the knives in his hand.

“We have food though,” Eleanor replied, pointing down to the food bag.

“But probably not enough for the three of us for the whole journey home. We can have fish for dinner on nights we camp by the river. It would help conserve the food we do have. We should also avoid staying in inns for the time being, just in case they have guards out looking for us,” Lance explained.

“I suppose that makes sense,” Eleanor acquiesced with a huff. “What are we having for dinner then?”

“Fish,” he responded, striding over to the river bank.

Lance closed his eyes, boots sinking slightly into the muddy edge of the Sol. Beside him, Eleanor hovered, quiet but curious. He focused on the subtle twitches beneath the water’s surface, feeling the ripples, jolts, and the darting pulse of life below.