Lark was in such high form that morning that Able wondered in amusement if he might float away. Or she. The first time they had gone riding, Lark had worn a sharp, dark green jacket that accentuated his shoulders. He had been a man that day. Today's jacket, a sable brown with a pop of yellow, had similar shoulders but flared at the waist and had a gathered tail, so Able's best guess was he was "both."
"Tell me, what would you do with yourself if you could not make your own clothes?" Able asked.
"Probably crawl naked into a hole and sob a thousand tears until I had drowned," Lark answered reasonably.
Able chuckled at this then frowned at his brain trying to picture Lark without clothes. He busied himself with loading his things onto Fox, whom he was actually happy to see again, despite the persistent soreness in his legs. When Lark had explained he could get them to Aimsby overland by horse in less than half the time it would take them by wagon on the roads, Able had swallowed his complaints.
"Can you get up all right?" Lark called from where he was readying his own mount, which was somehow both shorter and fatter than Fox was.
Able considered the stirrup he had just put his foot into, but Lark came over behind him before he had calculated an answer.
"Yup, like that. Now grab up here, on the pommel." Lark patted the front of the saddle until Able carefully took hold of it. "And the cantle." Now he was patting the other end of the saddle.
As Able reached for it, he envisioned Lark patting other things and blurted, "Would you give me some space? I can do this."
Lark backed off obligingly.
Able gripped the saddle and tried to step up, but the stirrup, dangling as it was, swung away and the saddle lurched after it. Able started back only to see nothing had moved as much as it felt. So he tried again, trying to center his weight, but his strength gave out before he managed it. Anxious that Lark was about to offer help again, he hoisted himself as far as he could with an embarrassingly loud grunt then scrabbled towards the pony as he swayed backwards. But he was up.
"Good man." Lark grinned encouragingly from beside Fox's head. He'd been holding her still? "Now you just gotta make sure your stirrups are a good length. Make sure you can stand up, easily, from where you're sitting."
"Yeah, okay," Able mumbled and looked over the stirrups to figure out how the heck to even—
And Lark was there, warm fingers pushing Able's thigh back. Able jerked away, but Lark, undisturbed, pulled up the flap where Able's leg had been. Oh.
"You're tense this morning," he commented as he pulled and buckled the strap then raised his eyes to meet Able's, his searching, deep gaze too gentle to be anything but comforting. Unless that's what you're thinking.
"Out of sorts this morning," Able replied quite honestly. "Don't know why."
"The woodland air should clear that right up!" Lark took Fox's lead back over to his pony and hopped up easily.
This time they rode the other direction out of town, right through a rambunctious herd of goats—the goat-herder waving to Lark on the way—and on to zigzag between farms on a plateau just above the bay. The plots were full of lentils and beans and other shallow-rooted vegetables which, thanks to Woodbrook, Able expected grew beautifully in the torrential seaside rains.
His legs were quickly remembering how to work with Fox's movements and were having an even easier time thanks to the stirrups. However, Lark had to call back reminders to lean forward when they left the farms behind and headed up the inclines into the woods. Able almost slid straight off Fox's rump before he remembered on his own.
These woods were not as dark as the Kettlebrook ones, although perhaps this was owed to today's clear sky rather than any differences in the landscape. The eerie stillness and echoes were present, though, and therefore did not do much to sort Able out.
Lark, however, was even more chipper than before. He kept forgetting himself and singing in time to the horse's trotting. Able tried to weather it, but every time he started to find it tolerable, Lark would change key.
"If you like singing so much," he attempted being circumspect, "why didn't you ever find someone to teach you how?"
"Aw, damn, sorry!" Lark cleared the embarrassment from his throat before calling back, "I did! My ears are just that bad!"
"Oh." What must that be like? Maybe safest to change the subject. "How do you know your way through the woods so well? Is there a trick to it?"
"Misspent youth!" Lark laughed. "I mentioned Vench, yeah?" He had, as Venture Bay was the friend he intended them to stay with in Aimsby. "He lived down the street, and we used to get into all sorts of trouble together. Skipped a lot of school and chores to go exploring the forests, borrowing his pa's team ponies to do so more often than not."
"Why did he leave Fairbanks?"
"Actually, his family was taking refuge in Fairbanks during the war. His father is a construction specialist, designs and builds buildings, see. So, when the truce finally took effect, they went back to Aimsby. They still had plenty of work rolling in, last I heard, which wasn't long ago."
"Oh, I see, so this path is the most efficient you've figured out for ease of visiting him?"
"Yup! He's my best friend, after all."
For hours, Lark guided the horses along windy, invisible paths up the steep hills. The fat ponies seemed untroubled by this, although at the steepest places Able had to stretch himself up Fox's neck and cling to her mane. Lark insisted this wouldn't bother her, and it didn't seem to, but Able wasn't getting used to clinging so closely to a lurching animal. Finally, they were trotting along on level ground awhile before the sunlight split the trees to illuminate the highway. Lark kept them going a few minutes further until the trees thinned out into something of a grassy clearing along the roadside.
"Lunch break!" Lark called cheerfully as he hopped down.
While Lark removed the ponies' bridles, Able got down more cautiously and stood in place, not trusting his legs to move. The horses set to graze, Lark unpacked a couple sandwiches and brought one over to Able before flopping on his back in the grass with relish.
"Hatling made these for us?" Able unwrapped his parcel to find thinly sliced pork on a bed of sprouts with some kind of sweet and sour sauce. He was inhaling it before he realized what he was doing but didn't bother with guilt when he saw Lark was almost through his already and could only "mmf" an affirmative with a full mouth. Able chuckled and sat beside him.
Their stomachs full, they relaxed on the grass in a bit of a doze waiting for the horses to finish. Well, Able did. Lark couldn't seem to lie still. He shifted and stretched and rolled around. No wonder he was always hungry...and so fit. Able stopped watching him and instead looked up at the dappled sunlight flickering greens and yellows through the leaves above. The warmth from the sun soaked through his pants and into his grateful legs. Days like these were probably numbered, with summer on the way out.
"Well, that's unfortunate." Lark sat up and looked down the road.
Able then heard and felt the approaching hoofbeats himself. "Larbantry horses?"
"Yeah, steppe coursers have a pretty clear one-two-three-break when they're loping along. Trained that way so the cavalry can keep time with each other and stay in formation. Not too many of our ponies have a perfectly synchronized diagonal step, so that makes more of a ruckus when they come along together."
"Good to know." Able eased up to his feet, to save some time and effort and dignity if he was to be confronted by an enforcer. Lark stayed where he was.
Two squadrons on horseback shortly came into view and, sure enough, they pulled up when they saw the travelers on the roadside. And they were led by Tanner. Great. He scrutinized them from atop his tall, gray horse.
"Good afternoon, Senior Deputy," Able tried.
Tanner frowned for a moment. "Oh, I do know you." He gave one nod and half a snort. "That scholar from the other night. Still sticking your nose in everything?" He glanced at Lark. "Including some Bor tail?"
Lark's eyebrows popped up and he mouthed, "wow."
"That's uncalled for," Able said with a scowl. Tanner had probably taken Lark for a woman, and...might not be wrong, so Able let that point be. "My companion is showing me the way to Aimsby, where, yes, I intend to continue my research."
"'Research' being how you describe standing in the middle of a melee without knowing how to even duck?" Tanner snorted again. "Do yourself a favor, Professor Deathwish, and go home."
"Wait—what are you talking about?" Able glanced at Lark, who shrugged and looked to Tanner for an explanation as well.
"The riots, of course."
"What riots?" Able asked.
"Oh, bunch of Bors took it into their heads to tear up the road to Adeptsby. On my way to put a stop to it. Now, as I said." And with that, Tanner turned his horse back to his men, and they thundered on without another word to Able.
Lark was on his feet now, watching after them, and chewing on a fingernail.
"What do you want to do?" Able asked.
"Hm? Go to Aimsby, as planned."
"So, get on with it?"
"Oh, no. No, I'm sure..." Lark drew a breath and put on a smile. "No use overworking the horses. We'll get there as planned."
But as they waited for the ponies to finish their grazing, Lark paced and even climbed a tree at one point. And Able was only handling his anxiety more quietly, lying in the grass trying to get some rest while he could. When they finally mounted up and were underway, Able insisted they try some loping of their own. Even after he predictably fell off, he ignored the bruises and got back on to try again. As a result, there were several hours of daylight left to them when they arrived at the winding climb up to Aimsby.