Drawloween - Under the Gallows

Sabela should know better. She should know better than to ride out on her own, into the brush. For as surefooted as Marrow was, he's still relatively green. Inexperienced. The two were still new to each other, new to this place. Sabela's trust in the black stallion was carefully placed. She knew him. She knew him, and knew how to read him. How would she grow to trust him completely if they couldn't take on a few trails alone? They would stay well within the range of the sending spell. They would tell the others in what direction they'd gone. It's the only safeguarding they need, at least in Sabela's mind.

To Marrow's credit, he handles the first half of the journey well. Listening to Sabela's careful cues, and advancing down the roughly groomed trails with little complaint. Head low, ears twitching-- alert, but not nervous. Though the occasional bird rises from the brush, rabbit moves in the undergrowth, he's unfazed. Idiot proofing the horses had really come through for them. It's the first step to making sure there's safe, predictable horses around, in a world that's anything but. Things were strange, and Marrow's mischievous nature wasn't going to make things easier.

As the trail beneath his hooves seems to become entirely obscured beneath brush and dead grass, Marrow moves on Sabela's cues alone. Sabela's cues were guided by one thing-- the Patron. Its voice echoing in her head, reaching into some part of her psyche that couldn't be tapped otherwise. Though she wasn't sure what it wanted to show them, there was no reason to go against it. Not yet. Tugged by some unknowable force, they continued to the northwest. Marrow's steps remained even, centered over the ground. Playing with the roller bit against his tongue, moving at a rather forward walk.

The shadow came into view first. Long and ominous, both horse and rider initially miss it. Casting over Marrow's shoulders, looping around Sabela like an uncomfortable embrace. The gallows stands alone on the hill, cut against the serene landscape. Despite the warmth of the afternoon and golden sun, Marrow feels something squeeze. His stomach, his chest, the cold hand of dread gripping him from within. The stallion balks, ears pinned to his head. Whites of his eyes showing, taking a large step back. First one, then the next. Head raising, though his forelegs don't lift. A shiver.

Sabela staggers in the saddle, though she ultimately maintains her balance. The gallows were enough to fill her with a deep foreboding, splashed against the sound of the Patron's laughter. A low, ominous chuckle that rattles through her brain. Her posture shifted, leaning forward. Holding her breath, steering Marrow away. Though his initial steps are near-stumbled, he heeds the cues. Jigging beneath Sabela for a long moment, though he gathers himself. Neck arched, black gaze shining. As the breeze shifts, Marrow surges forward. A loud call, shattering the eerie stillness and silence around them. Not panic, but true fear. Both horse and rider in a cold sweat, with a shiver that rattles both soul and bones.