Cedar Sweep horse with no name

Time was up. That meant he had to meet up with his no-good brother and deal with being mocked and belittled for screwing up a simple bet; but it hadn't been that simple, it had been a monumentally impossible task that he had foolishly agreed to. That was just his style and Bruges knew it. He knew he could get Ambrose to do all sorts of things if his pride was on the line, and maybe that's what had Ambrose so frustrated now.

He'd spent the month patrolling, gathering for the caches, healing from his injury — and to think after all of that work, he'd lost a bet and an ear! Yeah, he was legitimately pissed off. He needed a break, and after briefly telling Niamh of his plan to scout outside the territory for a change, he left.

It wasn't a permanent thing, of course. Ambrose meant for it to be a day trip so that he could clear his head and see something different. There were only so many hours one could spend visiting the same lake, or peeing on the same bush. This is how he found his way to the sweep; he had been running for a while but decreased his speed to something more leisurely when he came upon a small creek.

As he stopped to drink, he saw a silhouette looking beyond the water's lazy pulse. At first he thought maybe it was Bruges but that was a fleeting thing, sharp like a beesting, and Ambrose realized it was actually a stranger. He was still out of breath from his travels so he said nothing, just settled in and refreshed himself with the crisp water.