Novel & Cerita Scold Bridle

Aurelia asked, "and is there a way to trap one?" Mshindi revealed an ornate silver bridle, "I found this in the bakery hidden in a pot of flour. His journal doesn't mention it, but I'll assume he planned to capture the phantom horse and make it pay." Zinjo studied Aurelia's face, "What are you thinking about, dark princess?"

Riderless at first glance, until the firelight caught the limp figure slumped across its neck. The animal moved slowly, its steps uneven, hooves crunching softly over gravel and packed dirt. Foam lathered its flanks, streaked with grime and streaks of dried blood. The reins dangled loosely from its bridle, and its eyes were wide and glassy with exhaustion, as though it had been ridden hard—and alone—for miles. The scout urged his horse forward and dismounted quickly, rushing to intercept the staggering animal. The moment he reached the side of the beast, the light of his torch fell on the rider, and his breath caught in his throat.

Sarah is a small figure crouched low over the horse’s back, urging her mount to greater effort. I scrabble at the bolt of the gate, forgetting how fingers work and giving myself a splinter as I tug impatiently when the bolt sticks. I tumble through as Sarah flings herself off the horse before it has quite stopped. She’s ridden without a saddle, although she did at least put a bridle on. She almost falls as she lands, but catches herself, and sprints the last few feet towards me.

Ava sat quietly on the sofa wearing the clothes my assistant had delivered. They were pink. The fitted dress hugged her figure far too well, soft fabric outlining every dangerous curve. The short skirt exposed part of her pale legs, and the instant my eyes landed there, I noticed it. A long, ugly scar. It crawled across her leg like a grotesque centipede burned into her skin. I froze and suddenly couldn't stop imagining what kind of suffering could leave a scar like that behind. My wolf went silent. Ava noticed my stare almost immediately. Her scent sharpened with embarrassment and defensiveness.

I reach out and grab his collar, yanking him close as I try to say calmly but it only comes out a growl, "Fight for your life,” He whimpers. He looks scared, terrified. He swings, my head moving instinctively before it can meet my face. It’s too slow and my hands are already wrapped around his neck, snapping it before I can stop myself. I watch him fall to the ground, my irritation worsening as I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Fuck. She’s so beautiful. That’s the worst part. And she knows this. She knows the hold she has over me and I can’t fucking concentrate— AND WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU SCARED OF ME? SHE’S A WOMAN AND SHE OWNS ME UP ON MY BULLSHIT,”

, with a smirk on his face, he turns to Fraya and gives her a wink. Putting on the hat, he made sure that it was tight enough around my chin. I took Fray’s hand and we followed Bruce to the outside where two horses were waiting. One was very big, about 15.3 hands, with a long, arched neck and a well-chiseled, short-eared, “Spanish-type” head. Its coat was pure black and shined as the sun reflected on it. “Old Blaze here is a Friesian. He is very gentle even though he looks scary. Hailey, you will be riding him."

Rhys Rita Sokolov. My would-be bride has the complete view of the situation. I don’t have to see June’s expression to know how stiff she is right now. Rita’s unfocused eyes narrows on us as she sways on her feet, the sound of her heels scraping on the ground amplified tenfold in the imposing silence.

It was in an open circle in front of a huge tree trunk that was covered in vines shaped like hands reaching out hungrily toward them. Scar tried not to look around at the faces of the goblins gathered there, instead keeping her head high and staring straight ahead. She refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing her fear or her sadness. The gentle morning breeze carried the scent of flowers, and she breathed it in, trying to keep her heart from running out of her chest.

He scolded them. “We're sorry, leader.” They both apologized. He turned to the warrior who was certain that Scott must have been dead, “And you, do you just jump into conclusions when there are no concrete evidences to backup your claim? How can you be so sure that he is dead just by seeing a blood-stained piece of cloth? You don't even want to find his body at all? Really? Is that how quick you want to get out of here? Is this how you will lead when you become a Leader some day?” He spoke angrily. “Such a coward!” He spat.

The air shimmered with heat, and the familiar scent of brimstone mixed with hay filled my nostrils. "And this," I said with a flourish, "is where we keep the hell horses." Sebastian's jaw dropped as he took in the sight of the massive, obsidian-black steeds, their manes and tails flickering with ethereal flames. I approached one of my favorites, a mare named Ember, and stroked her flaming head. The fire licked at my skin, warm but not burning. "Holy shit," Sebastian breathed, his eyes wide with fascination. "They're... beautiful."