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Horse: 9484 ECr Got That Sugarshock?
Show: Annual Dragon Hunt 2016
McKenna wiped her brow with the back of her gloved hand, and then wiped that on the worn brown fabric of her hunting pants. Beneath her, Sephiros stood as cool and solid as a glacier, his golden eyes silently scanning the horizon. McKenna shifted in the saddle and sighed. She was getting too old for this—hunting dragons.
The minute the thought entered her mind, she grinned ruefully and shook her head. She was barely pushing twenty-five. What did she know about old age?
Although, bringing on a few more dragon hunters wasn’t such a bad idea, after all. The village counted on Eagle Creek and their powerful Nordanners to keep their homes, flocks, and herds unmolested. And currently, she and Sephiros were chasing a rather swift nuisance; one that had dragged them all the way to the cliffs and the sea. Normally, they’d chase a dragon past the border, and then turn around, but funds were rather low back home. With the number of equines and canines virtually multiplying overnight, money wasn’t as plentiful as it was a few years ago. Thus, the need for dragon treasure.
A cool wind shot up the cliff side, stirring McKenna’s hair and Sephiros’ mane. A storm gathered on the horizon, low grey clouds flashing with lightning. By her reckoning, they had about an hour left before the storm was upon them.
The clouds flashed gold upon grey and a blast of cold air shot across the bay. Hmm. Pursing her lips, McKenna quickly revised her timetable. Thirty minutes at the most. “See anything?” she asked the white stallion.
“No, but she’s still in the area. I can smell her.” Sephiros was a Nordanner of few words, but when he spoke, they counted.
McKenna twisted in the saddle, shading her eyes with her right hand. “Where?”
Ice white shoulders shrugged. “The storm is pushing and pulling the scent. It’s coming from everywhere.”
“That’s not good.”
“No.”
Another gust of cold storm air soared up the cliff. McKenna tugged at her split-tailed coat, drawing the garment tighter across her body. Perhaps she should have dressed more warmly for sea-side jaunts. Gods, was she losing her touch?
Suddenly, Sephiros stiffened. Long years of hunting galvanized McKenna’s sluggish body. She grabbed the pommel and wrapped her hands around Sephiros’ reins. The huge stallion reared up, steel-shod hooves lashing out as the brown dragon shot up the left side of the cliff.
Game. On.
Art (c) me
References: friesian janosch rearing with rider | Cliff Stock 8
Show: Annual Dragon Hunt 2016
McKenna wiped her brow with the back of her gloved hand, and then wiped that on the worn brown fabric of her hunting pants. Beneath her, Sephiros stood as cool and solid as a glacier, his golden eyes silently scanning the horizon. McKenna shifted in the saddle and sighed. She was getting too old for this—hunting dragons.
The minute the thought entered her mind, she grinned ruefully and shook her head. She was barely pushing twenty-five. What did she know about old age?
Although, bringing on a few more dragon hunters wasn’t such a bad idea, after all. The village counted on Eagle Creek and their powerful Nordanners to keep their homes, flocks, and herds unmolested. And currently, she and Sephiros were chasing a rather swift nuisance; one that had dragged them all the way to the cliffs and the sea. Normally, they’d chase a dragon past the border, and then turn around, but funds were rather low back home. With the number of equines and canines virtually multiplying overnight, money wasn’t as plentiful as it was a few years ago. Thus, the need for dragon treasure.
A cool wind shot up the cliff side, stirring McKenna’s hair and Sephiros’ mane. A storm gathered on the horizon, low grey clouds flashing with lightning. By her reckoning, they had about an hour left before the storm was upon them.
The clouds flashed gold upon grey and a blast of cold air shot across the bay. Hmm. Pursing her lips, McKenna quickly revised her timetable. Thirty minutes at the most. “See anything?” she asked the white stallion.
“No, but she’s still in the area. I can smell her.” Sephiros was a Nordanner of few words, but when he spoke, they counted.
McKenna twisted in the saddle, shading her eyes with her right hand. “Where?”
Ice white shoulders shrugged. “The storm is pushing and pulling the scent. It’s coming from everywhere.”
“That’s not good.”
“No.”
Another gust of cold storm air soared up the cliff. McKenna tugged at her split-tailed coat, drawing the garment tighter across her body. Perhaps she should have dressed more warmly for sea-side jaunts. Gods, was she losing her touch?
Suddenly, Sephiros stiffened. Long years of hunting galvanized McKenna’s sluggish body. She grabbed the pommel and wrapped her hands around Sephiros’ reins. The huge stallion reared up, steel-shod hooves lashing out as the brown dragon shot up the left side of the cliff.
Game. On.
Art (c) me
References: friesian janosch rearing with rider | Cliff Stock 8
Image size
687x900px 297.59 KB
© 2016 - 2024 shekeira
Comments4
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Really nice traditional work! 
It must have been a lot of work and I really like the dragon! <3
It must have been a lot of work and I really like the dragon! <3