Swordsman

"What is your name?" Faith asked as we rode back to the town I'd left the night before.

"It doesn't matter," I tapped my horse's shoulder twice with my bare toes since I did not have spare shoes.

"I would like to know your name," Faith was ahead of me so I couldn't see her face.

I dropped my reins since my horse had already been instructed to follow.

"My name doesn't matter," I relaxed into the saddle hunching over in exhaustion, "It never did."

"You just want to call me to call you swordsman," Faith looked back at me skeptically.

"That's fine," I could feel exhaustion sinking back deep into my bones.

"You just expect me to call you swordsman," Faith slowed her horse.

"Yes," I leaned up a little to look at her, "You expect me to call you Faith."

"Fair enough," Faith faced forward, and sped back up.

We rode on in silence from then on out. Silence was better anyways. I went into a state of half sleep as we went along. Every once in a while her horse would start to spook, and she would reach her hand up, and settle it. It was surprising that she could keep her horse this calm so close to me.

This soon after a transformation I smelled of dragon. Horses naturally didn't like the smell, and often panicked when they got close to me. My horse had been trained not to panic in my presence. Her horse had not. She was probably doing the same thing she had done to me when she forced me to calm down.

The village came into view, and my muscles tensed as I sat up in my saddle. That rat faced bastard could still be around, and he had seen far more than I cared for. I wanted to ask what she'd done with the bodies of the men I'd killed, but now was not the time. Here I could be overheard.