It was worrisome for the horse, to stand in one place for so long beneath the trees. His nature was to be always moving. To stand still was to become prey, and he did not like that his view to the horizon was obscured by the broad trunks of ash and oak. Every minute or two he drew in a deep breath through his wide, round nostrils, savoring the cool evening air and checking for any traces of smoke, food, or other hints that Men or orcs might be about.
Even more worrisome was the woman laid out upon the grass. Her bedroll had been thrown down in haste before she collapsed upon it. She had not moved since dawn. Now and again he would brush his lips over her brow to try and stir her. The sensitive flesh of his muzzle felt that she was too hot, and something knotted in his massive belly at the feel of it. He lifted his head and looked to the west, and anxiety rippled through his powerful limbs to see the oncoming dark.
The stallion lowered his head and stepped away from the small clearing in the trees where his mistress now lay. His hooves crunched over the thick, drying grass while empty stirrups rattled softly against ribs. He could see the road ahead, a thin, grey ribbon in the twilight. No one had passed by all afternoon, for this was empty, lonely country. His mistress needed aid, and he had none to offer, nor any other Men to ask for it.
Funnel-shaped ears swiveled this way and that, seeking in vain for sounds of any other souls nearby that were not rabbits or foxes. He heard the wind in the grass, the swaying boughs overhead, the tired crickets singing their last dirges before the first frost. But he did not hear help arriving.
Turning back, he picked his way through the copse of trees again, until he stood over her. She had always seemed so small to him. Light as a feather on his back. He stood there until the sun had surrendered its light and hidden behind the hills, and the stars winked on and lit up the glade with pale silver. The woman stirred and rolled over, but did not wake. In his nostrils he could smell sickness, wafting from her like an unseen vapor. His tail flicked from side to side in restless worry, and a high-pitched nicker rang in his long throat.
When midnight came and went, and she did not stir again, nor did any man nor horse pass on the road nearby, he folded up his thick legs and laid his great body beside her. His globe-like eyes grew droopy, the long black lashes fluttering lower and lower while he fought off sleep. She would not have slept if he had fallen ill. And so he determined that he would likewise not sleep until she woke.
