After two weeks of nonstop instruction, Isaiah could dress Abigail in full tack and gear. It took a lot of hard work and a few minor injuries, but the commander was delighted with the progress. And Abigail certainly had no problem with the ample amounts of sweet oats she received for her performance.
Today, though…today was the big day. Isaiah wasn't sure how he'd properly train Abigail to carry a rider. He knew she'd always have a hard time navigating with her sightless gaze. But, before any of that could be addressed, he needed to be able to mount her. It would be the most dangerous thing he attempted up to this point.
Mounting any eyu was dangerous, but Abigail was potentially more so. While regular eyu had a set of deadly spaded antlers, they were often short and couldn't reach their riders even when they reared or threw back their monstrous heads.
Abigail's were longer and thinner at the base, only becoming slightly spaded near the ends. They drooped somewhat lower, too, nearly aligning themselves with her neck. Leaving aside the chance of her bucking, rearing, or rolling after Isaiah mounted, the danger of her throwing back her head and decapitating him was just as terrifying.
Still, he was going to try.
Letting out a shaky breath, he walked around to her left side, petting the fur that laid over a massive shoulder muscle. "Hey, girl," he started, pulling on the saddle to see if it would elicit a reaction. When none came, he felt a subtle sense of victory.
"Okay, okay, okay," Isaiah repeated to himself. "Baby steps." Another heavy breath left his lips.
"Commander?"
The unexpected voice made Isaiah jump. Of course, not knowing Mateo was in the arena made perfect sense. Citrus was just as quiet as her rider, and it showed.
"Mateo," Isaiah greeted, turning to face the young man.
Mateo's bronze complexion gleamed under the lights of the arena from the sweat of a hard workout, and his dark eyes drooped ever-so-slightly from exhaustion. His chocolate brown hair, so often a tussled mess, was damp and weighted down.
"Excuse my impertinence, but you shouldn't mount her without another set of hands, commander. It's dangerous," Mateo quietly advised, shifting his weight uncomfortably while Citrus nuzzled him tenderly.
Isaiah smiled and let out a relaxed breath. "It's not impertinence, Mateo. There's nothing to be excused." Looking back to Abigail, Isaiah decided to take the cadet's advice. "Would you mind?"
Mateo responded with a quiet nod. "Of course, commander."
"Isaiah. Just call me by my name," Isaiah corrected. "I don't hold the respect of a commander anymore."
"To me, you do," Mateo retorted without skipping a beat. "You always have, and you likely always will."
The young man didn't wait for a response as he allowed Abigail to become familiar with his scent before taking reigns from Isaiah. His words, however, rang through Isaiah, pleasurable delight filling him from head to toe.
Mateo was known around the barracks for his quiet, oftentimes timid nature. What most didn't know, aside from those he held close to him, was his unquestionable honesty. Mateo would tell you what you didn't want to hear and words that would bring elation. Either or, it didn't matter.
So, to hear this young man retort in the way he did…it felt good. It felt really good.
"Are you mounting, commander?" Mateo asked, looking up at Isaiah with a gentle gaze. "I'm ready whenever you are."
Isaiah nodded, clearing his throat. "Ah, yes, sorry, Mateo," he apologized, mildly stumbling over his words. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts while holding on to the feeling of self-confidence, Isaiah turned back to the task at hand.
Letting out a held breath, Isaiah grabbed the mounting strap before carefully putting his left foot into the stirrup. The small amount of pressure from the movement caused Abigail's ears to swivel in his direction, but there was no visible sign of agitation. For now, anyway.
Swallowing hard, Isaiah moved to the next—oftentimes most dangerous—part of mounting an eyu for the first time. Hopping a few times on his right foot, he used the momentum to guide himself over the young eyu's back. Or, at least, he would have if she hadn't immediately side-stepped away, kicking out sideways with dangerous split hooves.
The movement trapped Isaiah's foot in the stirrup, making him hit the ground hard before Abigail dragged him across the arena's floor. Though his vision was blurred, Isaiah could see Mateo doing his best to hinder her movements, but nothing he did was working, and she seemed to only grow more and more aggravated with every pull of the reigns.
This was it. This was where Isaiah bit the dust.
A bark came from nearby. It wasn't the usual greeting but a deeper, gruffer warning bark followed by a low, grumbling whinny.
Abigail immediately stopped, her head lowering as her ears tucked themselves down against the back of her skull. Her long tail slightly fell between her legs as she submitted to the older, albeit smaller, eyu in the ring.
As soon as the albino had been calmed, Isaiah could see Mateo rush over and carefully pull his foot loose from the stirrup. Sitting up and pulling his leg to him, Isaiah ripped off his boot to assess the damage. His ankle was bruised, but nothing more. Thank the Gods.
"Anything broken?" Mateo asked, his voice heavy with concern. "Are you alright, commander?"
Isaiah nodded. "A bit bruised, nothing more," he replied, slipping his boot back on with a grimace. "You were right, though. If it hadn't been for you, it would have been a lot worse." Looking up at Mateo, Isaiah smiled. "Thank you. You saved my life."
Mateo blushed, hiding his face by pretending to fix his drying hair. He nodded his reply before turning and collecting Citrus's reigns. "Is there anything else I can do for you, commander?"
Isaiah frowned. "Stop calling me commander."
"That's disrespectful. I can't."
Isaiah sighed. "Alright, well, if that's the case, then no. I'm good."
Mateo nodded before leading Citrus away and out of the arena.
Isaiah's eyes moved to Abigail. She seemed to relax without the presence of the dominant eyu as her tail began swishing back and forth. Her nostrils flared as she searched for a scent, and then her eyes moved to where Isaiah still sat on the ground. Taking slow, deliberate steps, she made her way to Isaiah, lowering her head and nuzzling the top of his head as she came to a stop in front of him.
"Oh, now you care," Isaiah bickered. "I see how it is."
She let out a low grumble and flicked her tail before letting her long, dry tongue drag across Isaiah's face. He let it happen. It wasn't the best smell, and it definitely wasn't the best feeling, but flinching would likely cause her to spook again, and Isaiah really didn't want that. Besides, Abigail was just showing her love.
Instead, Isaiah brought up his hand and slowly stroked her cheeks. "I love you too, Abby," he murmured, letting his head fall against her snout.
After a few moments had passed, Isaiah finally decided he needed to remove her tack and return her to the stables. He carefully pushed himself to his feet, putting a little weight on his bruised ankle. The pain was easily bearable, and Isaiah quickly began unfastening Abigail's tack, putting it away before promptly returning to the stables.
Upon entering, Isaiah noticed Norman cleaning Falkon's stall, whistling a tune Isaiah wasn't familiar with. The sound of Abigail's hooves trodding over the steel floors drew his attention.
"Afternoon, commander," he greeted, huffing breaths from his labor. "How'd it go?"
Isaiah looked at Abigail and then back to Norman and chuckled. "Well enough, I suppose," he answered, bringing her back to her stall. "Really wish my foot hadn't got stuck in the stirrup."
Norman's face paled. "You alright?"
"Yeah. Mateo was there to help," Isaiah assured, removing Abigail's halter and giving her one last kiss on the snout. She snorted and shook her head before immediately diving into her trough of oats and grass. Isaiah left her to it, shutting the gate behind him. "Turns out Citrus is an Alpha."
"You don't say."
"Mmm," Isaiah hummed, nodding his head. Leaning against Falkon's gate, he asked a question that still weighed heavily on his chest, "Hey, Norm. Do you think…how many do you think survived Arkasia's fall."
Norman didn't stop his work as he answered, "Can't say I've the answer to that. Probably not many if there were any further attacks."
Isaiah grimaced. He knew he shouldn't be thinking about Tousen. He'd already decided to leave it in the past. But…still…
"You thinkin' 'bout him?" Norman asked, stopping and giving Isaiah a sympathetic glance.
Isaiah ran a hand through his hair. "I tried not to; I really did. I tried to just…force myself to believe the worst-case scenario had happened. That I wouldn't see him again. But…I don't know," he explained, feeling like this moment was as good as any other to vent. "Digging into all this shit with Expan made me think about him again, and I just…."
Norman gave a weak smile. "Didn't know you were that attached to the lad."
Isaiah scoffed. "That makes two of us." He paused for a moment. "I don't know what to do, Norm. I mean, we aren't even necessarily that close, and I'm still so fucking wrecked at the possibilities."
"Love's a pain like that."
Isaiah's breath caught, and he chuckled. "Yeah, Norm, love doesn't just happen like that," he retorted. "I'm not in love with Tousen. I'm just worried—"
"Your worry is derived from how much you care about the boy," Norman interrupted, watching Isaiah with knowing eyes. "Love comes when it wants. There doesn't have to be this extensive history of its formation for it to take root in us and grow into something beautiful."
Isaiah was silent as Norman finished up, exiting Falkon's stall and properly facing the young commander.
"How do you know I love him?" Isaiah asked, though his lip trembled.
"I suppose I don't," Norman replied, crossing his arms. "But, the way you two look at each other, how carefree you seem to be around him and vice versa…that isn't just camaraderie, lad. When you're as old as I am, love is an observable spectacle."
"Say you're right," Isaiah conceded, knowing that—at the very least—Tousen was important to him in ways few were, "What do I do about this worry? How am I supposed to focus on what we're doing here while worrying about the possibilities of his well-being?"
"You focus on our mission here in the hopes that you can return as swiftly as possible to the answer you wish to receive," Norman replied, placing a hand on Isaiah's shoulder. "You continue being the commander you've always been while knowing what it is you wish to return to."
Isaiah shook his head. "What if I can't?"
Norman gathered Isaiah in his thick arms and hugged him close to his chest. "You can, lad. I assure you, you can."
Isaiah wrapped his arms around Norman, burying his face in the elder's shoulder. The commander side of him protested his foolishness, but the optimistic side of him didn't care. Maybe Tousen was dead. But, if he wasn't, Isaiah was going to do whatever it took to return to the young man's side and remain there for as long as Tousen would let him.
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