[Author’s note: a short post with just a little change of pace. Bordelon Detective Agency will be seen in future posts]
The sun burned down upon her linen covered head, seeking flesh to dry and crack. She started to wet her lips but stopped, not wanting to waste any moisture. Her golden-toed steed trudged steadily towards the looming table hill. The woman laid down across the Simerlage’s back, allowing her light cloak to settle over her and offer her some much desired shade. For all the speed a Simerlage could attain, it wasted so quickly and required so much recovery time as to be nearly pointless. Their great desirability as a mount came from their almost endless longevity at their own slow pace. Or so the merchant had told her before he took nearly one whole purse from her, and almost another for supplies.
The day drifted in and out of her consciousness, sometimes replaced by dreams of home, dreams of crashing green waves, dreams of white icy fields. The cool kiss of night reached under her cloak and roused her from her stasis. The Simerlage crept along, losing speed to conserve heat over the dark night hours. Left to find its own pace, it could walk for weeks with only a few hours of rest every few days before needing a longer break.
She stroked its smooth scales and cooed encouragingly. A deep rumble emanated from under her hands. It even performed a few hops before settling back into its lulling pace. She repeated to herself many times that it deserved an extra long break with many treats on return, repeated until she felt confident she would remember it. Drawing a thick blanket from her saddlebag, Elida settled in for the night.