I ment to do some more writing today but it seems things conspire against me. For some reason there is a mean crick in my left shoulder, and it hurts like crazy to type. Its rather odd. I really havn't done much to cause such a thing. Rubbed some icyhot on it. I hate Icy hot. Still working on a title for all this. While I'm not all that happy with my prose, I think I'll just keep writing to get back in the habbit, stop with all the irregular posting. Maybe even work on some of my other stories too. Enjoy.
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Worry played across Jacob’s face, but it was soon replaced by wariness. He reached up to his brace and removed one of the ivory pistols it held and stepped to the edge of the courtyard. His eyes scanned it, back and forth, as he led the way across, Aleksey following behind him. They walked towards a single story building nestled next to the corner of the castle walls, covered in whitewashed plaster, and its roof made of cedar shingles. In the center of the front wall there was a large square door hung on a sliding track, Jacob reached it first, moving it aside to reveal a hay filled stable. Seven horses, four almost as tall as the two men, stood placid in their stalls. One of them, a great brown stallion, turned and whickered at Jacob and Aleksey as they entered.
Once inside Aleksey shut the door behind them and hung the lantern on a peg next to one of the stalls and Jacob returned his pistol to its brace. The two men began to rifle through the stable picking up various pieces of tack and packing equipment, loading it on the horses. After loading one last sack of feed, Jacob lifted the lantern from its peg and brought two of the big horses out of their stalls leading them towards the stables doors. Aleksey followed with two more.
The horses were led across the windswept courtyard and through the dark halls of the castle until they reached a covered wagon, its roof made of red shingles.
“I’m glad we left this here.” Jacob said.
Aleksey did not reply as the two hitched the horses to the front of the wagon.
As Jacob finished hooking up the last horse to the wagon something caught his attention. From down the hall the sound of soft footfalls could be heard, each accompanied by a strange clicking sound. Jacob found his pistol in hand, unbidden.
“Aleksey.” He said harshly. “Trouble.”