CHAPTER 59: HILDA’S HORSES

The morning was gray, with heavy clouds hanging over the small town of stone and wood. The wind carried the smell of smoke from the chimneys and the constant sound of people moving, hammering, and negotiating. Damon walked a few paces behind Ester, his spear resting on his shoulder, watching everything with wary eyes.

Every human heartbeat that passed seemed to pound in his ears. The square teemed with life, but to him, each person was also a reminder of how far he was from being merely human.

Ester, as always, walked unhurriedly and unafraid, oblivious to the stares.

They turned down a side street, and the sound of the crowd faded, giving way to a strong smell of damp hay, dung, and tanned leather. Ahead, a large wooden stable loomed, its roof covered in melting snow, smoke rising from a makeshift forge next door. The sound of neighing horses echoed from within, mixed with the creaking of gates and heavy footsteps in the mud.

A sign hanging over the entrance read in worn letters:

"Hilda’s Horses—From the Gentlest to the Most Vicious."

Damon arched an eyebrow as he read it, but didn’t comment.

"Here," Ester said, entering without hesitation.

The stable’s interior was spacious, lit by tall wooden windows. The smell was intense but not unpleasant. Bales of hay were stacked, tools strewn about, horseshoes hung on the walls. Horses of various colors occupied rows of stalls, some chewing calmly, others restlessly, pawing the floor.

And then, the voice.

"Customers! Well, well, and early in the morning!"

A woman emerged from behind one of the animals, holding a bucket filled with water that was nearly overflowing.

She was short, stout, with her red hair tied sloppily in a messy bun. She wore mud-stained leather clothes, heavy boots, and an apron that had seen better days. Her eyes were green, lively, and shone with an energy that contrasted with the harshness of the surroundings.

"Welcome to my kingdom!" she said, opening her arms as if presenting a palace. "Hilda, at your service. Saleswoman, groomer, farrier, foal midwife, and, if necessary, even horse psychologist."

Damon blinked, confused. Esther just stared at her silently.

Hilda smiled even wider, unfazed.

"What are you looking for? Strong horses for war? Gentle enough for long journeys? Or..." she narrowed her eyes, sizing Damon up and down, as if sniffing something out. "...perhaps one that won’t accept being tamed by just anyone."

Damon swallowed. He couldn’t tell if she was serious or just trying to sell. But something in that look made him feel like he’d been truly seen.

Ester, impassive, replied:

"Two horses. Sturdy. We need to leave today."

Hilda clapped her hands.

"Sturdy, of course! The road is not forgiving to the weak." She laughed loudly, the sound echoing through the stable. "Follow me, my mysterious travelers. I have something special for you."

Hilda led them between the stalls. She pointed to some horses:

"This one, a chestnut of good bloodlines, excellent for carrying weight. That one, swift as the wind, but a little stubborn. This other one, docile as a lamb, perfect for..."

Suddenly, a deafening neigh interrupted her speech. The sound came from the back of the stable, where a separate stall was reinforced with double planks. The animal inside stomped its hooves against the wood, shook its head, and snorted, sending foam flying across the floor.

Damon stopped, drawn by the noise. The horse was black, with a shaggy mane and intense eyes, almost red in the morning light. He was larger than the others, with defined muscles and scars on his flanks. With every movement, he looked ready to burst open the stall and crush anyone nearby.

"That one..." Damon said, unaware he’d spoken aloud.

Hilda sighed, placing her hands on her hips.

"Oh, sure, him. There’s always someone interested in the four-legged demon."

Ester shifted her gaze to Damon, coldly assessing his interest.

"What’s wrong with him?" she asked.

"Wrong?" Hilda gave a short laugh. "Nothing, if you ask him. But for us humans, he has an endless list. He’s ill-mannered, he bites, he won’t take a saddle, he throws anyone who tries to ride him, he once broke a gate, and he nearly took the arm off one of my assistants." She scratched her head, smiling wryly. "Honestly, I should sell his meat to a butcher and get over this headache."

The black horse whinnied again, as if understanding her.

Damon approached slowly. The animal’s eyes fixed on him immediately, flashing hatred and distrust. Damon felt something strange, a shiver down his spine—as if he were standing before something that wasn’t just a horse, but a beast that recognized him as an equal.

He reached out hesitantly.

The horse stomped its hoof against the ground, snorting, ready to charge. But it didn’t back down.

"Damon," Ester’s voice sounded cold behind him. "Don’t waste time."

He ignored her. He lowered his voice and murmured,

"You don’t like collars either, do you?"

For a moment, the two stared at each other—man and animal. And, against all expectations, the horse didn’t bite or attack. It just stood still, breathing heavily, but letting Damon’s hand approach.

When his fingers brushed the black mane, a jolt ran through her, similar to the one she’d felt when she’d held the spear. It wasn’t magic. It was fury.

Hilda’s eyes widened.

"Well... this is new."

Ester crossed her arms, silently assessing the scene.

Damon took a deep breath, keeping his hand firmly on the horse.

"I want that one."

"Are you crazy?" Hilda almost laughed. "That horse won’t let anyone ride him! He’ll kill you before you even take the first step down the road."

Damon clenched his jaw.

"Then he’s perfect."

Silence fell.

Ester finally spoke:

"Take him."

Hilda looked at her as if she were the crazy woman in the story.

"You don’t understand... That animal is a pest! If you die on him, don’t come asking for a refund!"

"I said it," Ester repeated firmly. "Take him."

Hilda sighed, shaking her head.

"You two are worse than the horses I sell. But that’s okay. If you want to kill yourselves, do it with style."

The process of getting the horse out of the stall was a spectacle in itself. Hilda brought a reinforced rope, cursing the whole time. The animal whinnied, bucked, bit the air. Damon stood in front, holding on tightly, staring at him fearlessly.

And, surprisingly, he managed to get him to take the first few steps outside.

The horse snorted restlessly, but accepted his presence.

"I never thought I’d see this," Hilda murmured, impressed. "Maybe you’re even more naughty than he is."

She took out a leather pouch and handed it to Ester.

"I have the other horse ready, a steady and obedient chestnut. It’ll serve you well."

Ester just nodded.

Hilda then turned to Damon, still holding the black animal.

"If you can tame this monster, I’ll consider it a miracle. But I’ll give you one piece of advice: don’t try to own him. Be his partner, or you’ll end up on the ground."

Damon nodded, his eyes never leaving the horse. After all...

[You have encountered a being of strange origins]

[Learn more about this thing that claims to be a Horse]

[You have received the "Tamer" trait as a bonus for an extended quest]

[Tamer: You are now able to partially communicate and understand, as well as ride or assist, any animal]

"What a great find." Damon’s eyes glowed pink as he stared at the creature.