Where Faeries Live Still ...

Pen name:  Pittwitch

Flash Fic

Story:  Where Faeries Live Still

Link:  http://original.adul...2842&chapter=17

Rating:  Adult++

Fandom:  Original

Pairing:  Original

Warnings:  NoSex

Prompt:  Dream:

The pair immediately settled into a ground covering pacing trot.. Aine led, while Connor struggled to maintain half-seat and protect his abused backside. The matched dapple gray horses' steady hooves carried them with great care and agility, following the narrow twisting path through the trees, over the low stone fences of the outlying farms, and up and down rolling hills. They slowed or stopped only to rest the horses. Both Aine and Connor felt the relentless call of their home, pulling them closer, more urgently.

Aine drew up as her cottage emerged into sight. She smiled and sighed, happy to be home. Connor smiled at his Mistress, content, though sore. The sky was just beginning to darken, and the winds were picking up. Aine turned to glance over her shoulder at Connor, pleased to see him as glad as she felt.

“Would you like to care for the horses or start the hearth fire?” she offered graciously.

“I will do as you ask, Mistress,” Connor murmured with a nod.

“You start the fires, and a meal. I'll put the horses away.”

“As you wish,” Connor agreed readily.

First stamping, then the horses began to jig impatiently, seeing their barn so close, and eager to be inside, out of the weather, enjoying their evening meal. Both riders had their hands full, fighting to keep their mounts from galloping home, even though they themselves wanted nothing more than to rush to the welcome comfort of their cottage.

They climbed the narrow path, up the hill to where a hollow protected Aine's world. They dismounted a safe distance from the barn, and Aine held out her hand for Connor's reins. He passed the supple leather into her gloved hand with reverence and a lingering, loving caress of his fingers. She smiled up at him, but jerked her head towards the quiet, stone cottage. He nodded and made quickly for the kitchen door.

Leading the horses inside the barn, Aine proceeded to untack both of them, and grabbed handfuls of straw to rub them dry. Quickly, efficiently, and with great skill, she proceeded to brush them out, running her hands softly down their legs, looking for any telltale warmth or injuries.

She then turned her attention to the tack. Cleaning the bridles carefully, wiping away sweat and salt stains left by their hard ride. When she was finished, she went outside to the trough, carrying her buckets. She stopped, peering into the nearly iced over surface.

Setting the buckets on the ground, she knelt on one knee and removed her glove from her left hand. Trailing her finger tips in the water, swirling it into a circle. She peered closer into the water, as if looking for a vision, but not finding one.

With a heavy sigh, she stood, placed her hands on her hips and glowered at the trough.

A whispering voice called out from the trees, barely distinguishable from the wind itself,  “Child, this will all soon be but a dream.”

“Alas, 'tis too true,” Aine replied sadly to no one who could be seen.

She dipped her buckets into the water, and returned to fill the horses' trough. She smiled at the sight of a thin trail of smoke rising from the chimney, knowing she too would be warm, well-fed, and cared for with great love.

 

 

 

A/N:  Sorry JayDee!  I had "P" on the  fingers or some ridiculous thing.  Thanks for pointing out my stupidity!