<ul>
<li data-xf-list-type="ul"><ul>
<li data-xf-list-type="ul"><ul>
<li data-xf-list-type="ul"><ul>
<li data-xf-list-type="ul"><ul>
<li data-xf-list-type="ul"><ul>
<li data-xf-list-type="ul"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:dimgrey"><br/>
Lucrecia rolled her shoulders in a careless shrug. She had no problem with going out to Goldenlake. It had been a year since she had seen Big Thor. He was one of the few human beings that Lucrecia had ever bonded with. He was old enough to be her father, and had taken her under his wing during the fighting. That summer weighed heavily upon her soul. Big Thor had been like a guiding light for her. She shook her head, clearing her mind of unwanted memories. She had been dwelling in the past far too often these past few days.</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:steelblue">"Where is this girl? Is she close?"</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:dimgrey">For someone who wanted nothing to do with this little adventure, she sure was eager to leave. She needed action, she needed blood. She needed to forget everything in the heat of battle. It was the reason she fought. To forget.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Promise me you'll never fight again, Lucy.</i><br/>
<br/>
Lucrecia closed her eyes momentarily, her hand reaching up to clutch at her chest. There was obviously something beneath the cloth of her shirt, but, for now, it remained unseen. When she opened her eyes again, their color had dimmed slightly, turning a light icy blue. The past was the past. She needed to forget everything.</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:steelblue"> "I'll go ready my horse."</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:dimgrey"> She stood up, her chair strapping the floor noisily, and inclined her head to the men around her. She made her way out to the stable without another word, holding her composure in tightly. Once in the stables, she made her way to Tarquin's stall. The gelding greeted her cheerfully, butting his head against her chest. She buried her face in the silky brown hair of Tarquin's neck. The scent of dust and hey filled her nose, calming her slightly. This was real. This. Muscle and hair beneath her fingers. Melisande was just a memory of a memory. <br/>
<br/>
Tarquin nuzzled his mistress's shoulder, slight worry emanating from him. Would she ever get used to this? Knowing how creatures felt or thought? She pondered slightly on why she could hear no voice from Tarquin's mind. She was slightly relieved. Maybe her gift was wearing off. <br/>
<br/>
She patted the chestnut on the nose and offered him a sugar lump before moving to saddle him.  <br/>
</span>[/list:u][/list:u][/list:u][/list:u][/list:u][/list:u]</li>
</ul></li>
</ul></li>
</ul></li>
</ul></li>
</ul></li>
</ul>