I open my eyes to find myself on horseback. A black steed with loose hair, it was waiting for me to decide if I was going to remain on the ridge or not. Night was approaching. I was out alone. Better head back.
I had gone hunting with bow and arrow, and had three light gray rabbits tied across the the blankets that served as my saddle. While me and mine already had dinner for tonight, I was expecting company and wanted to be prepared.
Spying something in the canyon below, I smiled and chuckled. I turned my position towards camp, and the horse interpreted that as time to leave. The horse has only a rudimentary bridle upon him. Its primary purpose is to demonstrate to others that this horse is already “taken”. He knows me well but is pretty much unbroken. We just have an… understanding. I try to remember where he came from, but the details slip away.
As we continue towards camp, another rider approaches. We greet each other in friendship. He too, has been out hunting for the day, and is winding up the day’s events. He knows my camp and accompanies me for a while. We talk of many things. I know I am dreaming and lucid. I ask if I’ll remember this conversation when I wake. “Only if you need to.”
(Guess I didn’t need to remember all of it. ~shrugs~)
The camp now in sight, we wave farewell. The sun is hidden behind the forest but has not begun to set yet. I am greeted by my fellows and teased for avoiding the visitor.
“What visitor?” They describe the man that accompanied me. I laugh and tell them I’ve already ran into him.
I hand over the three rabbits to the woman cooking today. Her eyes light up and she promises me the pelts and a bowl of good stew. I remove the blankets and start dressing down the horse.
I’m still trying to figure out why this horse is so familiar. He is not Stormhoof, but he is not part of the dream backdrop. I hear the call of sunset, and the camp’s enclosure is closed and locked for the night. All camp inhabitants are accounted for.
I finish caring for the horse just as the call for dinner is announced. We gather in the communal hut. I am not surprised to see the “visitor” back again, even though the gates have been closed. I’m served a bowl of rabbit stew, but in my haste I burn my tongue and spill some broth on my clothes. I hope the cook doesn’t take the action as an insult, but she just laughs and teases me about being impatient.
The three pelts have been stretched in frames and wait for me to work on them.
After dinner, the visitor sits next to me by the fire, and our conversation resumes from where it left off on horseback. He hands me a bowl of tea and I tease him about selective memory.
“You’ll remember what you need to remember. You’ll forget what hurts too much to remember. If you need to blame it on me to make it easier, do so.”
He and I continue talking into the night. I decide to take responsibility for myself. I won’t be blaming him for what was left behind at camp.
I am going to blame him for not bringing any coffee.
Tea?
To a frontier camp?
~harrumph~