Shorter Than Me

2 Levi

I was glad to get away from her. For some reason, being with another girl alone made me think so much more of her. She will always and forevermore be a lingering heartache in the back of my mind, but the shortie made me remember things, made me do things.

Did she notice I held her too close after catching her?

Did she notice the look I gave her when the exact outline of her figure mirrored hers?

Did she notice the second of hesitation brought to me by the memories of-

Dead. She's dead.

Of course she didn't notice. No one would notice unless they knew me extremely well, like-

She's dead.

So many years of practice taught me that thoughts wouldn't stand being pushed away; you had to ignore them, coax them into leaving. Then they would flee.

But I don't want her to flee. I want her to stay. I want to remember her but not be hurt every time I do.

The shortie makes too many memories surface. I can't let that happen. I need to stay in control of myself.

Early the next morning, I walk to the stables. The times I've been able to feel most calm were when I've been in action. I want to prepare myself for today. I walk in and go to my horse's stall. I stroke his nose for a few seconds before grabbing his saddle and bridle from the wall and lifting it up to rest on top of him. I buckle the straps as he stands still for me. I ease the bit into his mouth and buckle the bridle around his head. Then I lead him outside. Since I'm shorter than normal, I can't just put my foot in the stirrup and hoist myself up. I hold the pommel and the back of the saddle and jump, bringing my right leg over at the same time as my left foot goes into the stirrup. I always mount on the left side because riders used to fight titans very primitively and they wore a sword on their left side, so in order to avoid its interference with mounting, horses were trained to accept riders on their left side.

This is the legit reason (excepting the titan part).

I squeeze my heels against his side a little to coax him forward and soon, we are going at a gallop.

We reach the trees and run through them for a minute or two. Then I trigger the cables, aiming at two trees around me, and let myself enjoy the feeling of being lifted off the horse into the air. As fast as I can, I maneuver around trees and through the forest, swinging upside down and sideways, moving my legs in a natural pattern that is all too familiar to me.

This is where I belong.

I remove the blades and swing them around too. They make me feel powerful. I can kill hundreds of titans in less than an hour when it sometimes takes a hundred soldiers to kill one titan in an hour.

After forcing myself to work like this for an hour, I finally stop. I'm breathing hard and I can feel the leg muscles I used.

Constant practice reaps a high reward. I don't remember who told it to me, but I've always gone by it.

One glance at the sun tells me the new recruits are at the stables by now. I head back almost as fast as I can. When I'm almost at the edge of the trees, I whistle. A minute later, my horse comes galloping and I drop on top of him. The cables wind themselves up again and I race to where the shortie is waiting in front of the stables.

I draw my horse to a halt in front of her. She presses her fist against her heart and stands at attention.

"Get a horse," is all I say.

She nods and opens the door to the stables. She walks in and I follow, still on the horse.

I know she's never been in here so I'm not surprised when she just stands there.

"Get her." I point to a chestnut horse a little smaller than mine. The horse doesn't belong to anyone yet; we just use her as a replacement for another horse. Pulling a wagon would be a waste of her strength. "There's her tack." I point.

With my annoyed directions and her fumbling with the saddle and clasps, she finally gets them on and I tell her to lead it out. I take her to the maneuver gear building. I wait outside as she picks one and puts it on.

When she comes out, I ask, "What took you so long?"

"Sorry, sir. I'm not as familiar with the maneuver gear."

"Take it off then put it back on. Keep doing that until I tell you to stop."

She obeys immediately and I watch her fumble with the straps until she has it off. Then she fumbles again and I find myself cringing inwardly. After around ten minutes, I tell her to stop.

"Now get on the horse."

She looks at it like she doesn't know how.

"Left side."

She goes to the other side of it and puts her left foot in the stirrup. She tries to hoist herself up but she's too small and the maneuver gear is too bulky. She ends up falling. I find it amusing. A minute later, I dismount and stand behind her. I lift her up by the waist and she climbs on from there. I notice her face is red from embarrassment but I ignore it. I mount my horse again.

"Come."

"But, sir, I don't know how to ride a horse," she protests.

"Learn." My horse trots away.