Playing The Victims [BL]

Chapter One Hundred & Twenty-Four | Fourth World

So he pet the horse, averting his eyes and trying not to think too much about how the animal could easily stampede him if he felt like it. But the mud-covered, damsel of a horse, was attuned to the human's lack of compassion. It shook its head and huffed, slapping Finch in the face with its mane.

"You—"

"Are stressing out the horse." Falcon piped up, "If he thinks that you'll hurt him then we won't last long when we have to walk the rest of the way."

Finch bit his tongue and softened his glare. "Have you found them?"

"Here, keep him distracted so I can clean around the wound and get a better look." Falcon handed over the plants and Finch didn't have to worry about whether they were right or not, as a lovely scent wafted from them.

They were familiar scents, ones that took Fahren back to when his mother used them in natural remedies for when he or his brothers couldn't sleep.

"Can we switch?" Finch wondered as he crumpled the plants in the palm of his head, activating the scents even further. The horse was already attracted, head nearing to Finch who only wanted to step backwards. But knowing that he potentially had food in his hand, the beast would likely follow.

"You're the one he's wary of— not me." Falcon easily replied, "Besides, I'm only helping you get over your fear. You've obviously been kept attached to your mother's bosom if you weren't encouraged to learn to ride."

There was many options for Finch to take in response to the words that took a bite out of his ego. But most of them were from the ideology of a modern-aged man. As for the original, Finch was passionate about not being left behind. He didn't want his father to think any less of him, but there was always the great difference between he and his brothers. Not just physically. And Finch's mother— as Falcon has suspected— did in fact coddle her lonesome son.

With time, the Chief of Bison no longer bothered arguing with his partner about their feeble son. There was no need to waste his energy training a pup who would not amount to anything. This applied to teaching him how to properly ride a horse. There just wasn't any need, in the older man's eyes.

It was easy to condemn men like him, but Fahren also understood how difficult it was to survive in this world— and he'd only experienced a fraction of it. Finch's father was raised with just as brutal a mindset as the one he bestowed on his eldest son. When push comes to shove, the weak just won't survive.

Still somewhat lost in the memories of someone else's past, "Not that he had much of a choice." Finch mumbled.

"He?"

Whilst in his daydream, the horse had eagerly moved forwards and nudged its snout into Finch's hand. It caught him by surprise when Falcon's attentive response brought him back to reality. Finch clasped his hand shut and refused to let the horse eat the plants. They wouldn't be good for its stomach if the horse ate it as it was. But there was a possibility of mixing it in with whatever food Falcon gave the animal.

"I meant that I didn't have much choice," Finch cleared his throat gently and was grateful for the beast for being large enough to hide his face.

Never taking his attention away from the horse, Falcon grabbed one of the small containers they had stored water in, and used it to wash away the mud from within the horse's wound and around. He had to get hands-on and scrub hard enough that the horse began to show signs of wanting to move away.

Throwing caution to the wind, Finch closed any distance between him and the beast and brought his hand up to run along the side of the horse's face. He swallowed his nerves and began to gently 'shush' the horse while letting the aromas work their magic.