The Horse in the Prince's Stables

Chp. 7

the picture was created by an artist known as Starstallion on deviantart

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                                                                                   =7=

=Philip=

          A loud cracking noise jolted me to my senses. Blinking blearily, I wondered why someone was making such a loud racket at this hour. The raw skin that had been caused by the irritation of the ropes that bound my wrists ached and tingled as I tried to move them. I don't even know how my blood still managed to circulate through my hands.

          I froze as a shrill whinny pierced the air, soon to be followed by more cracking noises that echoed slightly. 

          A whip?

          I wiggled around, turning my body so I was kneeling on the ground instead of sitting on it, and peered over Thunder's body to see what the commotion was about. My stomach twisted itself in knots at what I saw.

          Drake held a long whip in his hand, which he continually raised over his head and brought down upon the black mare. She screamed in pain and fear, trying desperately to get away, but a thief held her back with a thick rope around her neck. Her usually sweet brown eyes were now wild and filled with confusion. At one point she collapsed to the ground, shaking. But Drake showed no desire to cease his beating.

          "Stop..." I choked the word out. I couldn't find my voice. It had vanished.

          One of his men, the crossbowman suddenly stepped forward and grabbed Drake's wrist, and said something to him. Drake in turn gave him a lethal glare and mumbled something in return. They continued their short conversation in low voices, I couldn't quite make out what they were saying. The crossbowman released his master's hand, and bowed. This earned him a solid punch in the stomach.

          Drake turned to his men.

          "Get something to eat.Then we leave for the Western Plains." He said gruffly, skillfully slinging his whip around his waist as if it were a belt as he stalked off towards the dead campfire. His men followed suit after a moment, one of them had a bloodied face and was being helped to his feet.

          The Western Plains!? 

          Even if I could escape from these criminals, there's no way I could actually get away. The plains were miles and miles of flat ground. There were no places to hide, and food was scarce. On the other hand, if my father sent out a search party, and tracked us to the plains...

          The only hitch in my hopeful thinking was Drake of the Mist. No search party would ever know that we would travel through the plains. No one would ever think that we would go through there. It would be much to easy to get caught. And that's exactly why Drake wanted to cross the plains. 

          The mare stood shakily, staring sightlessly into space. Her head sunk lower and lower to the ground, as if in defeat. Blood leaked from her various new wounds, leaving dark, wet, and sticky trails down her hide. As she tried to limp forward, her jerky and pain-filled movements caused me to wince. 

          How could they do this to her?

          I glared back at the thieves. Those heartless men quietly ate their loaves of bread and gulped down their water, not even casting a glance in the injured mare's direction. My own stomach grumbled as I stared at the pieces of bread being devoured. Drake looked over at me.