The Unbridled Horse

Chapter Two

Farinka opened her Awareness before opening her eyes, casting it around gently, assessing. There were quite a lot of people there, most, but not all, asleep. There was also quite a lot of latent Awareness amongst those people, Awareness that she could touch, could reach. There was resentment, there was anger, there was despair, there was loneliness; there was also affection and a kind of camaraderie-in-distress. And there was curiosity - bright, alert, and awake - and it was aimed in her direction.

She shielded by increasing the latent Power in the unsent Command which had been wrapped like a blanket around her all night, and opened her eyes very slightly, looking out through her eyelashes.

He was sitting, propped up against the far wall; not moving, not threatening, just looking.

She sat up and looked back wordlessly.

To judge by appearances alone, he was a sorry specimen in a lot of ways. Thin, perpetually rather cold, unkempt; his brown hair not recently washed, and rather matted, his short beard looking out of place on his fine-featured face; bitten-short nails with ingrained dirt looking equally out of place on hands that were strong, well-shaped, and sensitive. He was dressed in a motley assortment of Army surplus, a thick pullover, and boots which had seen better days several years previously. But the eyes gave much away; bright, alert, intelligent, talented, charismatic, sensitive - and watching her with a glow of curious empathy. The lurcher which still lay fast asleep by his side was in better condition.

"The name's Simon," he said quietly.

She smiled - slightly. "Officially, Gwyn. Though I usually answer to Farinka," she volunteered.

"I prefer Farinka," he said. "I haven't seen you around before."

"No. Just passing through."

"You must have arrived pretty late, last night."

"No idea what time - I don't wear a watch," she answered, digging through her small rucksack and locating a hairbrush. "Cities aren't usually my kind of place," she added, sorting out her hair.

"A hedge-bird, then," said Simon. "Me, too - usually. There's both safety and danger in numbers." The lurcher stirred, and yawned. Simon reached it three ways, a quiet word, a gentle hand; and a whisper of Awareness which preceded both and of which he was - probably - not conscious. Farinka extended her own Awareness to the lurcher, which looked curiously over at her before moving. Simon grabbed it by the collar.

"He's not very socially inclined," he said.

"Let him come," answered Farinka, holding out a hand towards the dog.

He came, sniffed, wagged his tail, and thrust his head under her hand to have his ears fondled.

"He does sometimes surprise me," said Simon with a grin. "And he's probably at least as good a judge of character as I am."

"What's his name?" asked Farinka.

"Thistle," said Simon. "Because of his occasionally prickly character," he added with a grin.

Farinka jotted down Shelagh's address on a piece of paper, gathered her things together, and stood up.

"At some point, I'm likely to end up near this place," she said, handing the paper to Simon. "If you want to get a message to me, it will be passed on."

Simon glanced at the paper before stuffing it into his pocket. "Okay. I'll remember it," he said.

Farinka shrugged her shoulders through the straps of the rucksack, gave Thistle a final pat, and headed out onto the street.