Ok, so this has been in my head for a while now. For all that Rider horses are meant to be special, not that much notice is taken of them. So what are Condor's feelings at his Rider's death? If people like this, I might do some other situations. Please review and tell me what you think.

All was quiet on the road. It was just us, my companion and me. I trod carefully on the fallen pine needles, aware of our need of concealment. Every nerve was tuned to the smallest sound. My companion was keeping us cloaked with his gift, but I doubted that could hide us from the man on the grey stallion. Well, he looked like a man. He didn't smell like one though. He smelled like rotting wood, like a once beautiful forest tainted by some disease. That two-legs was evil.

My man's gift pulled a rug over my eyes. I could see nothing except in shades of dull grey, and it made my head prance and play tricks.

A twig snapped somewhere. Far away, but audible enough to me. I knew my companion hadn't heard it. His tense body, nervous and dripping with sweat, was still intent of the road ahead. With a feeling of dread I sensed a hunter coming closer. Stealthy like a plains cat, dangerous like an angered drunkard. I couldn't hear it, but I knew it was there. Then, overlaid with our own stench of sweat and fear, that rancid stink of rotting green things, that tainted forest smell. I took no chances. I ran.

My companion was ready. He knew me from the marrow, and my responses were as natural as his own. We fled together, crashing through the underbru.sh. It didn't matter that we could be heard now. The grey one was after us, so I ran fast.

Oh, Patron give me wings! They were gaining on us, closing fast, like a wolf on a sick deer. The grey one must not take my companion. He gave me my head, trusting me completely, and that trust only urged me faster. I would not give up my man to this other one who smelled of dead things. The barest hint of a bellowed challenge passed my lips as I forced my body to work harder. You shall not have him!

I swerved and dodged, leapt and galloped on. In our mad flight, I had forgotten the way, but it didn't matter now. Nothing mattered except escape. But his arrows. They were close enough to whisper their songs of treachery to me. I heard them even above the sobbing of my breath and the pounding of my hooves through the leaf litter. They said I would fail. That it was pointless. That I shouldn't waste my energy on a helpless cause. My companion was dead already. Those voices were so beautiful, I first thought to listen to them, and I slowed. Then the grey one entered my vision, bright as the moon on a cloudy night, and fear swelled my heart. Treachery! Shut out the voices! Do not let them find their mark! I ran still faster.

But the grey stallion kept pace, no matter how I dived and swerved in our direction. I chose the most difficult path, but always he was there just behind me, following with ease through what I struggled to clear. My man was whispering courage in my ear. It was cut short with an arrow twang and a gasp of pain. Our cloak dropped and I smelled blood. My companion had been struck!

Some part of me wanted to turn there and fight, to feel my hooves crack bone and to smell the blood of the dead tree man congealing at my feet. But I knew I could not. My man still clung to life, if faintly, even though the arrow tugged at him, and I would not fail him if it cost me my life.

Another twang, and a hiss as air escaped his lips. I plunged on, desperate for a rest, but running as though the seasons would stop at winter if I didn't. The grey one had dropped behind us, had stopped running, but I hardly knew or cared. My man was dying, and the road was his only hope of rescue.

The trees were thinning. I could smell man again. Real man; faint, but better than rotting leaves. And suddenly there were no more trees, just the long horizon of the road stretching out. A filly-man stood alert, startled by us. There was something about her. She was safe. I felt a thrum through me as my man's dying brooch thrummed in resonance with her. Yes. She was safe.

My legs felt as weak as a new foal's. I could hardly stand for fatigue. My companion fell from his saddle and I saw two black arrows sneering evilly at me from his back. You failed. We told you you would. He dies now. No. Not my companion. Anything but that.

They were talking together, my man and the filly. What were they doing? The filly approached me. I didn't want her near me; she was reaching for my man's sword, but caught hold of my reins when I tried to run again. She took the blade and stabbed it into the earth. An oath; she was promising my companion something.

I could feel the life leaving him, his breath stuttering and fading. He was gone. My Rider was gone. I had failed in my duty. The filly picked the brooch off his chest and pinned it to her own. I heard the Patron and His Rider on the wind and the breath of all my Rider's predecessors welcoming the filly to their ranks. She's your charge now. Don't let her die too. She took my reins and walked beside me along the road. She said something to me in a kind, pitying voice, but it only made me miss my companion even more. I couldn't help looking back, but his body was already hidden by trees.