A New Companion

The snow had again settled harshly over Ledyanaya Dolina in the days since the hunt, muting the sound of riders, those who stayed to visit with Mikhail while he healed. Hela had visited the indoor arena with Niklaus only for light lunging or slow walks, but mostly spent her time listening intently for Mikhail’s slow step in the barn or looking toward the manor where he rested.
His shoulder, she learned from Niklaus, was not broken but badly dislocated. However, unbeknownst to him, he had slightly fractured his leg. The doctor had recommended bed rest for two weeks minimum and no riding for three months. The shoulder alone had been enough to confine him to the house for a few days, but when she learned of the length of his absence, she’d grown despondent. Hela felt the absence of his steady hand keenly.
Three days after the accident, Niklaus opened her stall with her turnout halter in hand and turnout blanket.
“Far pastures for you for the next few weeks,” he said, clipping the lead onto the ring of her soft strap. “You need room to stretch your legs, and it will be a while before Master Mikhail can ride you again, even if he does disregard the doctor.”
Hela snorted, tossing her head once, in frustration not rebellion. She wanted him back, with his gentle hands, deep voice, and confident seat. But the soft ache in her chest eased as Niklaus stroked her muzzle gently.
“He misses you too,” he promised, as though hearing her thoughts. “Said he could practically feel your staring at the windows.”
Good. He better not forget he belongs to me.
Niklaus led her out through the side gate of the stable yard and down toward the barns. Past the barns, a funnel-like length of gate ran the length of all the near pastures, all the way out to the forest and further than Hela could see.
“You’ll like it out here,” Niklaus said as he unclipped her lead. “No work for a while, so you should explore. Run about.”
Niklaus removed the rope and released her into the chute, clicking his tongue to signal that she could go. Immediately, Hela sprang into a gallop through the fresh powdered snow. Untouched save for the marks of rabbits or birds, it flew behind her in a white cloud as she raced toward the woods.
In the forest, a faint wind stirred the branches, disturbing the snow and ice on them. A tinkling almost like bells filled the air and Hela whinnied in excitement. She bucked, twisted, and reveled in the sharp bite of the cold. The dull ache of boredom and restlessness melted away beneath the joy of open and unexplored land.
The pasture fence was old wood reinforced with wire, and Hela cantered the length of it for a long distance before slowing, heaving from the exertion. Her eyes landed on something strange, peeking out of the snow. A section of the fence leaned awkwardly, one post snapped and half-buried alongside a massive tree limb. The wire hung slack in the center, leaving just enough gap for a curious, slightly bored mare to slip through. Hela flicked her ears, considering. With the freshly fallen snow, it would be easy to find her way back, even through a forest which she’d never before explored. What harm would a little exploration do?
Her breath fogged the air as she stepped closer and the frost on the broken post glittered softly. Well, she thought before she hopped lightly over the wire and ducked through the gap, I’ve gone through smaller spaces before.
The forest embraced her immediately, softening the noise of the wind to a gentle whisper and rattle of the ice in the trees. The dark branches overhead, the scent of pine, and the deepening shadows made a peaceful world which soothed her more than she expected.
A sudden rustle overhead snapped her ears up. A black shape detached itself from the branches and swooped down in a lazy spiral, landing on a low limb only a few feet from her. Sleek feathers and sharp black eyes gleamed like polished obsidian.
The raven cocked his head at her and let out a throaty kraaaak that echoed around the small clearing. Hela narrowed her eyes at him.
What do you want?
The raven hopped closer along the branch, its feathers puffing against the cold, letting out another croak and then a clicking sound. Helas snorted and took a step forward, lowering her head. Then he flapped a few times and fluttered down to the snow, landing at her hooves. He hopped a few times to get even closer, then looked up at her expectantly, his head tilted.
He wasn’t afraid, though he should have been.
Hela rather liked that.
I like the bold ones. Fine, we can be friends then.
The raven bobbed his head rapidly, as if understanding her approval before letting out a short call which sounded rather like a name, in Hela’s opinion.
Chernysh? She blew out gently, ruffling his feathers. Very nice to meet you. I’m Hela.
He chirruped, hopping up onto his branch again for a few moments before flying over to perch on her withers, his claws gripping her mane, settling himself into her blanket.
I respect the attitude, she thought dryly.
For a time, they wandered. Chernysh flying ahead and circling or settling on her back as she explored the woods. But eventually the shadows shifted and the light grew dim. Niklaus would worry, she knew, if she failed to show up for her dinner. And Mikhail didn’t need more stress. Chernysh fluttered back to her shoulder and cawed softly, asking if she was leaving already.
Come along then, she thought as she turned back to trace her trail to the broken fence. We’ll continue exploring tomorrow.
So with her new companion perched on her shoulder, she trotted back towards the estate, slipping through the fence toward the warm barn and dinner.