“Feels like that settlement got farther away,” Cameron said, squinting against the sun. It was their second day on the road and they hadn’t made nearly the progress Thom had hoped they might in the first day riding. The second had begun later than they’d all intended; their bedrolls far more appealing than the prospect of another day in the saddle, discovering new muscles through the aches that rose from riding across rough and broken ground in the chill of dawning spring.
“Or we don’t remember well where it was,” Thom said, rising slightly in the stirrups in an effort to stretch his legs. “It’s not like we were exactly focused on exactly where we were. We just needed to find Phelan’s sorry ass.”
“I don’t want to know, do I?” Seamus asked dryly. Of all of them, he was the only one perfectly at ease in the saddle, showing little sign of soreness—but he’d been on horseback for the better part of a few thousand years. “I’ll chalk it up to more of my cousin being ridiculous and call it a day.”
“Probably the best option,” J.T. said, shifting uncomfortably. “Usually the right one, too.” He sighed and shook his head before he glanced at Cameron and Thom. “It’s got to be around here somewhere, right?”
“Of course it is,” Thom said, settling back into his saddle with no small measure of reluctance. Damn, his whole lower body was one giant ache. “It can’t be far. Maybe the next hill.”
J.T. barely stifled a groan. Truth be known, Thom was right there with him.
It could be worse, he reminded himself. We could be walking. It could be raining. There could be a storm, or monsters chasing us, or any amount of bullshit.
It could always get worse.
“It could always get worse.” That’s an understatement for this bunch.
Thanks for the latest addition.
why do i get the bad feeling that those were a terrible choice of words……… (O.O)