What the Horseman didn’t expect was the…being in front of him when he opened his eyes.

While everything and everyone else on the battlefield had appeared solid, the figure currently leaning down to look him in the eye looked to be a mix of metal and the very wind itself. Like a whirling, humanoid tornado in a strange suit of armor, it stood tall enough to be a few inches over the back of his horse, eyes like glowing vortexes of air as they stared him down.

Abruptly, he caught sight of something black off to the side, and realized with a glance what had happened to the cannon shot he’d almost been hit with. The ball was cracked in half, the rupture still smoking from the blow.

 A low rumble of air caused the Horseman to look forward again, at what he was sure had to have been his savior, though now he wasn’t certain the title was going to stick. Had he somehow wandered into something’s territory? Had he angered it somehow?

 It reached out, hand large enough to encompass his whole pumpkin head despite being partially made out of air. Instinctively, he shied down, shoulders drawing up though he still couldn’t make himself draw away.

And it just patted him on the head, like a teacher or parent would reward a child for a job well-done. Peering up from under the enormous hand he caught sight of its face again, watching the way in which the wind swirls around the eyes and bottom of the face, where a metallic piece like a jawbone rested.

Perhaps it’s…smiling?

Or at least, the Horseman certainly hoped so. The alternative wasn’t a very appealing idea when playing out in his mind. Though the being’s attention seemed to move to different things, namely the loose collection of vaporous matter that the Horseman still held in gloved hands.

He hadn’t even realized that he’d still had it, however…

The vapor had emerged in its entirety from the inert hulk, the strongest of the concentration sitting purely in his hands. Now that his attention was focused back on it, the Horseman noticed the feelings he had been drunk on before still sitting firmly at the edges of his perception, just waiting for him to reach out and grasp at them.

Still, he resisted the urge. He had felt powerful before, brave, but the bravery had almost come at a price. Besides, though the raw life force in his hands was certainly a commanding thing, to hold onto it and apparently wield it did not seem like the correct thing to do. Well, not correct, it did not seem like the right thing for the Horseman to do.

What he held in his hands was the spirit of the warrior, and it should be allowed to rest.

The Horseman’s fingers quietly unfurled, relieving the light pressure on the vapory substance, and letting his hands gently raise it upwards. It seemed to have an idea of where to go, but just needed, perhaps a push.

His fingers fully extended, the Horseman gave the loose mass a slight nudge, watching as the misty vapor began to rise from his hand. It drifted higher and higher over the heads of both he and the wind-being standing opposite, growing more and more diffuse until it quite simply seemed to fade into the air. Even still, the faint hum in the air that came with it did not fade for a few more moments, at which the wind-being suddenly shifted, drawing the Horseman’s attention back to the present with a snap. But even so, the wind-being really only tilted his head at the jumpy pumpkin-headed Horseman, expression somewhere between expectation and anticipation.

The somewhat tense moment was broken when the Horseman felt his mount nudge him from behind almost hard enough to knock him off balance. The great beast’s quiet whickers didn’t do much to dislodge this tight, coiled feeling in his center, but he reached up a hand behind him all the same. The nose nudging its way into his palm did bolster him some, and the Horseman decided to try his luck at talking to the wind-composed entity. It seemed like most of the apparent fighting had moved away, giving the both of them space to regroup.

“Hhh, hello.” It felt a little better with the break from talking he’d had, but he still found himself wincing at the grating growl of a voice he possessed. Definitely wasn’t the best first impression, people didn’t sound like he did unless there was something wrong with them.

There was a strange noise from the being, something like a chime being rattled into wakefulness by the wind. At the same time, it raised a large hand in a wave. Perhaps it couldn’t speak? At least, not properly. The idea was both somewhat daunting as it might be exceptionally hard to read this being and its intentions if it couldn’t talk, and a little bit saddening on an empathic level. Even so, the wind-being seemed to at least understand what the Horseman was saying, which was definitely heartening. He tried his luck again.

“I, ah, I am sorry if I, have tres-passed. I will l-leave if you per—” Another round of bell like chimes interspersed with a sound like wind rushing through trees came, the wind-being’s head ducked down and shoulders shaking in obvious amusement. But, why? What was it that the Horseman said that was so funny? Seeing his confused look, the wind-being seemed to, well, try to explain. Only it took a few minutes for the odd, sweeping gestures to make any sense. Thankfully the wind-being did not seem too bothered by the awkwardly long pause.

“You...d’not come, from here…?” Or at least, that’s what it seemed like the being was saying, and lo and behold it was nodding so he must have guessed right. From behind, the Horseman’s mount gave another low whinny, this one more demanding than the first. He hardly needed any translation for that; it was time to move on again.

The booms and rumbles of the storm overhead had begun to give way to rain. As the drops of water started to plink and run down the wind-being’s metallic parts, it too looked up at the sky. The Horseman, meanwhile, was already beginning to remount when he remembered that the wind-being was still very much present and looking at him and his mount with an unreadable stare and a quizzical tilt of the head.

“Ah…” He started, the remembrance that the wind-being did not in fact come from these parts snapping back with sharp clarity. Perhaps it was expecting directions of some sort…? Or, well, the charitable thing to do would be…

 “Ex’cuse me?” The Horseman eventually managed to ground out, both gratified and somewhat daunted when the glowing, windy porthole-like eyes fixed themselves on him again. “D’you, do you have, ‘nywhere to stay?”

There was a bit of a pause, during which the wind-being seemed to be putting some real thought to the inquiry before shaking its head. Well, there it was.

 “If you, do not…have anywhere else…” His throat felt strained, as it often did when he spoke too much, or too often. But he pressed on anyway, manners overriding any thoughts about his comfort or the strangeness of what might be a new traveling companion. “…you are welcome, t’travel with us…”

 The response to the offer was almost instantaneous, the wind-being’s face brightening in leaps and bounds as it bounced on its air-composed feet. Metal rattled lightly at the motion before it seemed to remember itself, giving a respectful little bow in the Horseman’s direction. The gesture did help to ease any still-ruffled feathers, and the pumpkin-headed rider offered another olive branch.

“We can go slow…in case you have a hard time keeping up…” Though as soon as the words were out of his gourd-framed jaw, they were immediately waved aside, the gesturing from the wind-being seeming to hint that the Horseman could set the pace however he wanted.

With a nod, he urged his mount into a trot, the raindrops beginning to come down harder and heavier. Almost in answer to the deadened clash of hooves against ground, the wind began to billow behind and around them, almost as though it were ushering them along.

It was strange, riding through the forest now. The earlier tense quiet had been replaced with a cacophony of noise that the Horseman almost found himself distracted a few times as he tried to navigate. In between the canter of hooves, rain crashed into the green canopy overhead, thunder occasionally rumbling and reminding him of the boom of the cannons as they fired. Roaring through it all was the wind, moving through the trees like something alive prowling in the weather-darkened foliage.

Well, perhaps the ‘alive’ part wasn’t too far off, but the Horseman didn’t dare try to look for his newfound companion. He needed to keep his attention on the road ahead, given the smaller, harder to pinpoint sounds of mud being squished under his mount’s hooves. If the road were to get washed out, then they would have to stop. That or risk being caught in a mudslide on the path ahead. Or a tree coming down. Or a…

A loud crash of thunder overhead caused the Horseman to jerk back on the reins, his mount nearly rearing up as they came to a halt. He could see the taller frame of the wind-being go hurtling by before seeming to realize that the pair had stopped, making their way somewhat sheepishly back. The latter was noticed more in passing, as the Horseman’s attention was riveted to the sky above the tree canopy.

That damned sound...!

He knew that there weren’t going to be cannonballs raining down from the sky, but his mind wouldn’t let the reaction go. His mount too was unsettled, shifting a bit with a whinny. The noise drew the Horseman out of his own thoughts, a hand coming out to rest on the great neck, rubbing in progressively slower circles in an effort to regain some control over the situation, and perhaps his own mind as well as his horse’s. The scene did seem to invoke some measure of…something from their fellow traveler, the wind-being slowing in their approach as they realized that there seemed to be something more happening than just a mere, temporary halt.

At the almost bell-like, questioning noise, the Horseman’s attention snapped to the armored being, staring in partial confusion through the eyeholes of the pumpkin for a moment before noticing the way the twister-like head tilted as they tried to puzzle out what they were seeing.

 “I…we are fine…” The Horseman tried, gravely voice almost warbling as he internally attempted to wrestle his thoughts into something resembling an ordered plan. “We…we should stop, the wuh-weather…”

Damn this blasted ineffective throat…!

The wind-being drew level with the pair, silvery porthole eyes glowing softly in the low light of the forest. Still, not much that the Horseman could tell in terms of comprehension regarding what he’d said. Just as he was preparing to try again, a flash followed by an almost instantaneous crash of thunder made him stop altogether, body coiling into a collection of tense knots as he both panicked and tried to keep himself from panicking. Even though he knew he would not see any sign of danger, his pumpkin head still craned back to look at the sky, a hand automatically coming up like one would do when trying to keep a hat on their head.

Not that there was very much to see, apart from the dark, barely visible tree limbs and leaves rippling like waves in the wind. As the Horseman looked, there was another flash of light that had everything standing stark for a moment, before the crash of thunder made everything reverberate to the point that the Horseman was sure that the forest itself was about to come crashing down around them. The coiled feeling in his guts almost snapped, ready to lash out when he suddenly felt a large hand patting his knee. Even as he looked down, saw the wind-being there, knew there was no threat, the Horseman still has to wrestle that sensation back into whatever corner of his mind it crawled from. Like coaxing a skittish horse, a quiet, steady mantra to the mind…

No danger, everything is alright, no danger…

 He supposed he should be grateful that the wind-being had not quite simply given up and kept going, and instead was waiting patiently for the Horseman to emerge from whatever hold had been over his mind. He should be, but in the wake of the panic that almost had him lashing out like a wild animal, all the Horseman found he had room to feel was a quiet sort of exhaustion. He didn’t want to have to try to make his point clear twice, so the Horseman leaned down to make sure he could get his words across the first time around. His throat still felt like it was grinding. Though if it was due to stress or usual problems, he was not sure nor did he have the energy to question it.

“…wuh-we need to s-stop…”

For a moment, he was not sure if the wind-being would even respond. Perhaps the storm was no hindrance to them, and they would move on now that he declared that he would be stopping for the night. But then they nodded, the same sort of odd motion that he’d come to associate with the act of smiling swirling around their eyes.

Thankfully, the instinct of pitching camp for the night was something so innate to him that it cut through the jittery tension from earlier.

The movements of unloading his pack, setting up his bedroll, all were a calm, steady series of tasks that lulled his mind back into something that resembled normalcy. The only rub was when he had to gather materials for a fire, though he supposed this was where having a being made of wind, able to control the breeze lightly humming through the air, came in handy.

It was a strange sight, watching the wood shake on the rock where the wind-being insisted he place it. Picking it up only a few minutes later, feeling no yield under his fingers and complete dryness, the Horseman allowed himself a few moments to marvel at the phenomena before getting started in arranging the fire just so, creating a firepit that was quickly alit with a crackling blaze. It felt better to have the light of the fire present.

Though there were other echoes in his memory, ones that warned off coming too close to the flames, there was also a certain security in how the flickering glow chased away the shadows of the night.

 In the darkness lay confusion, the wilds of the forest much like the darker, murkier corners of the Horseman’s own mind, the fire was a beacon, a point at which he could orientate himself.

Well, as much as he possibly could, anyway.