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The snow was piled high on either side of the road, which was more of a wagon-trail kept mostly clear of snow by horses and carriages and foot traffic. A large, frisky buck trotted along, stopping now and then to snort at the snow and toss his antlers, much to the chagrin of his rider.

Jack snorted himself, irritated and amused at his guardian. "I really don't see what it is about this stuff that pleases you so." Not the least bit concerned about his chosen's lack of understanding, Astrophel kept on making his way down the road, frisky as ever.

His duties with the troops kept him busy most of the year, but Jack had been lucky enough to be given leave during the Yule season. He had spent midwinter and the new year with his family at Dartmoor manor, but he figured he had enough time left to swing by for a visit to his favorite Kinross before reporting back for duty. They had a lot to catch up on, Jordun and he. Some of it more pleasant than others.

They were not too far from Ennisfree when an odd pair came galloping toward them - a pale-headed doe with a tall, dark-haired rider. What in the world? "Is that...Jordun!" he laughed.

Astrophel sprang forward only to swerve to the right at the last possible moment and enter into some sort of complicated, circular, prancing dance with his sister. Much more used to riding his guardian than Jordun surely was, Jack had little trouble keeping his seat. However, he did eventually have to call an end to it.

"Enough, you silly beasts!" he cried. For a moment, his plea seemed to have no effect, but eventually the buck quit his whirling dance and settled for fidgeting more or less in place.

"Well met, my friend," he said with a grin. "When did you finally give in and start riding your girl? I must say, you look a right pair. She's such a little thing."

Jack dismounted easily and patted Astrophel's flank. "Go on, then. Frolic in your beloved snow." The buck returned his sister's gesture and then snorted and took off into the trees, daring her to keep up.

The man shook his head and turned to his friend. Jordun really was dismal at the more...athletic pursuits. Not that that stopped either of them from trying to improve his skills. How well he recalled their numerous efforts to give Jurdon a proper seat on a horse, or improve his form at fencing, or make his aim more accurate with bow or musket. But this? Well, they had never tried to teach him to ride a guardian before.

A familiar, considering light entered his eyes. The selfsame light that appeared every time he tried to talk his friend into something foolish. "You know," he began, completely ignoring Jordun's indignant question. "Riding a guardian is nothing like riding a horse. And I would never have suspected you had started a mere minute ago. Perhaps we have discovered your true calling at last."

"A panderer, I? You wound me. I was merely thinking of my efforts on your behalf. Hurts my heart every time I think of how I have failed you. But here is your chance! Surely riding a guardian must come naturally to one who has been chosen such as yourself? You will have a steady seat in no time at all. I am certain of it. What do you say?"

One might wonder why Jack went so very out of his way to give his friend some measure of skill in the masculine arts. It was not out of any malicious desire to see him fail time and again - indeed, Jack would love nothing better than to see his friend succeed. He was not capable of such malice, in any case. Nor was it because of some secret pact with Oban. Jack barely knew the man and he was not at all certain that Jordun's father approved of him anyway. It was not even out of some quiet dissatisfaction with Jordun's present skill set. He may not truly understand his friend's preferences, but he had no quarrel with reading or writing or art. In fact, though his own preferences lie elsewhere, even Jack could see that his friend was very skilled in such arenas.

Why, then, did he persist?

The answer was really quite simple. As a cavalry man and lover of life, Jack Blackthorn adored physical exertion. He loved the tangible results of sharp marksmanship and hard riding. He reveled in the feel of besting an opponent with superior skill and speed. Because he loved these things with such passion, he wanted to share them with his friend. He wanted Jordun to feel, if only once, the satisfaction of a feat accomplished through sweat and labor. So, he refused to give up, even though he knew that he was not liable to turn the other man into a lifelong soldier or anything of the sort.

Jack frowned at the frolicking guardians. "I would not underestimate her, if I were you," he cautioned, suddenly serious where he had been jovial but a moment before. "She might not look like much, but these beasts of ours are made of sterner stuff than any I have ever seen or heard of before."

Indeed, even as a fawn, Astrophel had already been shockingly sturdy. Now, fully grown and trained, he had more endurance than a mountain pony and more strength than an old-fashioned war horse. Even more, he was faster and more nimble than a racehorse. Of the few other Guardians Jack had seen, this physical prowess seemed to be shared. They were strong buggers, no matter their size.

"But then, they would have to be would they not?" If the old legends were true, the Guardians were created for the sole purpose of fighting the Wolves - born predators, ruthless beasts designed to kill. Given the recent turn of events, Jack was more inclined than ever to give credence to the old legends. He would know more after he reported back to his post, but if half of the rumors were true, then the situation in the north had taken a turn for the worse. Of course, he already knew that. Had there not been a wolf sighting near his own home village? Out of everything, he was more frustrated that he had been unsuccessful in finding the beast than anything else. What kind of a Chosen was he, if he could not even manage that? What kind of a soldier?

"They're back, Jordun," he said, his tone dark as his mood. "And I do not believe they intend to leave."

"That is where you come in," he argued. "You cannot rely solely on Idriss to tell you when she grows tired. You are the human in the mix. It is for you to issue common sense and hold a firm hand if you cannot make her see sense for herself. You must pay attention to her as she pays attention to you."

He had never claimed that it would be easy, but he feared there was little choice. If matters worsened, if Chosen were truly called upon to fight, then he wanted his friend as prepared as possible. Even if Jordun could somehow avoid the thick of it, he still needed to be capable of giving himself and his Guardian a fighting chance. There was a reason he was Chosen, after all. If nothing else, he should learn to ride.

He sighed deeply. "I cannot say why now and not some other time, but I believe it is safe to say that they are not here to heal old wounds. We will do everything in our power to drive them back." He frowned, dissatisfied with that statement. "We will drive them back. But if it worsens before such a time, I do not want to see the worst befall you."

Pleased at his success in convincing Jordun to at least try to go along with his plan - as though there had been any doubt - Jack's mood immediately brightened. Where to begin? Well, that was simple. "You seemed to be doing just find bareback, but I think your part of the job might be a little easier with a saddle."

His eyes went to their frisky Guardians. "Though I should think it obvious that Aster's is much too large for your girl." In fact, he doubted that even the horses' saddles would be a decent fit for the slender doe. "I suppose we shall have to improvise. Let's take a look in the stables, shall we?"