31 Vhalar 716
There was a loud clapping noise like thunder as Malcolm rocketed through time and space, landing with a heavy thump that threw him forwards and off balance. Disorientated, the man went to his knees and threw up on the grass. The boots were meant to return him to his home with Elyna in Andaris, but something had gone wrong. Just a split second of thought about anything else had thrown him off course completely. Malcolm spat the vile taste from his mouth and got to his feet, turning about to try and decided where he had been dropped by the boots. He could see familiar looking woodlands north and east of his current location and farmland to the south, leading him to believe that he might be somewhere near Krome. The sky was dark with rain clouds and thunder rolled overhead. The temperature of the air was cooler than he had expected, but there was a lingering mugginess that he knew meant he had time before the rain fell.
It was an hour and twenty minutes on foot before he came across the first farmhouse and offered to buy one of their horses. The farmer was reluctant, the civil war had already taken a lot from his farm and family. He let Malcolm in on some of the gory details, and after a good chat, the man decided to part with his animal. He didn't have any riding gear, but was able to fashion a makeshift halter and reins out of some old rope. The Andalusian had belonged to his son, Wesley, who had run off to join the rebels. Her name was Mithril and she was the colour of chainmail and ash, her smooth coat speckled with a mix of soft, white and silver hairs.
The mare was just a tall as Red at the shoulder, but a little stockier. She was easy to ride and didn't seem to mind the thunder. It was later when the first fork of lightning touched down in the distant hills that Mithril spooked, marching backwards before spinning into a sharp turn that almost saw the man fall off. He corrected the mare and pulled her around, giving her a sharp kick in her sides along with the command, "trot on!"
When they came to the river crossing, it was only then that Malcolm realised how far he was from home, at least a four day ride, and with rain threatening, he only hoped the weather wouldn't slow that process down further. He couldn't be sure if the bridged was west or east of the narrow part of the river he had found, and so, without wanting to add a day's journey going in search of it, he got off the horse and remove his boots, tying the laces together so that he could hold them over his shoulders. Malcolm rolled up his pants and led Mithril to the river's edge to test her in the current before climbing back up onto her back and steered the animal towards the deepest part.
The cold water saw him suck in suddenly as it seeped through the seat of his pants and shocked the warmest part of his body. Quick running water set the mare off course, but she was able to move forwards without too much trouble. It wasn't until they almost reached the other side of the river that she freaked out at a piece of driftwood and gained enough footing in the soft sand of the riverbed to dislodge her rider. Malcolm gasped as he resurfaced and hurried to the edge of the river to cut Mithril off, snatching up the rope to keep her from bolting. She leapt up the bank, all but dragging the man behind her, but was halted by Malcolm's sudden resistance as he found his footing. Water sloshed in his boots and had completely soaked him from head to toe. This was not how he had intended to spend his fist day back in Rynmere.
