Ride to Camelot

[Lady Gillianne Auvray]

Gill's eyes were half closed and fixed on the road ahead in a trance-like state, put to sleep from the methodical motion and noise of her horse's hooves on the worn road. The horse, on which she sat side saddle, was the most valuable of all her possessions, with the rest of her meagre belongings strapped to his flanks in two leather saddlebags. She had owned Argus from several years; he had been a present for her sixteenth birthday. She wondered how many horses had travelled the same route she was taking now, and with what purpose.

An unfamiliar noise caused her eyes to widen, and she tilted her head up, listening. It was coming from behind her. She stopped Argus and twisted in her saddle. It sounded like thunder, and it was getting louder. She slid very ungracefully to the ground, pausing momentarily to untangle her hair from the reins, and then walked to the back of Argus. There seemed to be a strange smoke rising from the section of road she had just travelled. She pulled a face and shrugged.
"Come on boy" she said, running a hand thoughtfully along his body then taking up the reins again. "I fancy stretching my legs for a bit anyway."

She had taken two steps when several large carriages thundered round a bend in the road and hurtled towards them. She scarcely had time to pull Argus off of the road and onto the thick grassy verge before the train of carriages flew past her, disappearing into a dusty haze. Dress, hair and mane where whipped to the left from the side draft. Argus whinnied; tail swishing through the settling dust. Gill ran a hand through her windswept hair and blinking through the dust, looked to the distant turrets of Camelot.
“Welcome to the City!"

[Sophie De Roux]

Sophie shuffled irritably along the road, muttering dark curses under her breath as a flood of carriages stormed passed her flinging grit into her eyes and coating her cloak with dust. I could have been in one of those carriages She thought ruefully. Having finished the book she had taken out to keep her occupied during her time out during the day, she had (foolishly) blown the last of her pennies on something to read on the way home rather than on her carriage ride. Except, of course, she now had something to read but no opportunity to read it.

And so, defiantly, she had spent the rest of the afternoon trekking along the much-trodden rode to Camelot.

She had found it even more unpleasant than she had anticipated. Being unused to the outside world, she naively hadn't thought to bring anything with her, and so she found herself dry of mouth, sunburnt of skin, and tired of foot. Although it was late, and cold, the sun was still strong enough to burn Sophie's fair skin on her face and forearms, and she was very aware that she must be growing redder and redder.

As she looked ahead at the faint outlike of the Castle, she became vaguely aware of a figure ahead of her riding a horse. Scowling enviously, she returned to her muddled thoughts and weary mind, wondering how much longer it would be before her tedious trek was over. Placing foot over footstep, she even began counting them to try and make the time pass more quickly. Bitterness aimed largely at herself gave her an air of imminent doom, and every heavy step was as a stone dropped in a grave.