Howlin' For You [#Wattys2015]

Chapter 20

Chapter 20

The journey was endless.

We'd ridden for six hours straight and we were still going, without a single stop. Wherever we were going, it didn't seem like we were even nearly there.

We passed through countless forests and towns but none were familiar to me. It was almost as if Roan had teleported us to a whole new world. Maybe he had. None of the town names or shops were familiar to me.

My butt hurt and my thighs were sore. I needed to rest soon or I'd collapse. Wren was doing fairly well, chattering about all the cool things he seen around us.

"Luna." He turned to look at me with a slight pout. "I can't hold it any longer."

I took one of the reins he held in his hand.

"I need to pee," he declared loudly to no one in particular.

Our horse hated me. He wouldn't slow or go faster unless Roan did. I tugged the reins, nudged its ribs, and even smacking the horse's tushy. Nothing I did made him go faster.

"Roan."

He kept riding with his cloak flowing behind him.

I knew damn well he heard what Wren had said; he heard everything.

A few hours before, I told Wren not to make eye contact with Roan, not to talk to him, or even be near him. I had a feeling that he wouldn't hesitate to kill Wren as soon as I stepped across my line. Roan's back tensed as he heard me. I heard him try to suppress a growl as he rode faster after I finished speaking.

Wren had a hard time listening to me though, he pestered Roan with questions, none of course, were answered.

"Whats the horsey's name?"

"Can I have it?"

"What does your tattoo mean?"

"My Mommy said tattoos are for bad boys."

"Is your throat okay? Sometimes when my throat hurts I can't talk. Is that why you're not talking?"

Wren even attempted to get off the horse, but I kept a tight grip on him.

"I need to kiss it better. It'll help him feel better. My Mommy always kissed my ouchies."

"His throat is perfectly fine but he'll only talk to you if behave until we get to where we're going." My voice cracked as I spoke to him.

Thankfully, Wren stopped talking an hour ago. I would have cried if he continued and I didn't want Roan to see me being weak. Wren talked about his mom a lot as if she never left and it killed me. He spoke of her with such love and admiration and it made me all that much angrier at the woman for abandoning her beautiful, innocent son. She had better have a good reason for leaving him.

"Roan," I gritted.

If Wren peed on me, someone was going to pay, and that someone was Roan.

He swirled his horse in front of our horse's way, a death glare in his eyes.

Our horse immediately halted inches before him.

I slid off the horse, pain shooting through the soles of my feet and up my legs. My legs and back were stiff as I stood up straight. This saddle was killing me. Why couldn't he given us a more comfortable saddle? I didn't doubt that Wren was sore also.

Ignoring the stiffness in my legs, I turned and helped Wren down. Not even bothering to glance at Roan, I guided Wren down the dirt road. This whole horse riding business really had messed up my back and practically my whole lower body. Why do people do this for fun?