Talon (The Astor Chronicles Book 1) by Amanda Greenslade

replied. I wondered if all the horses I had ridden would have said the same thing if they’d been able. ‘You may need to help me, though.’
    ‘It’s easy,’ she replied. ‘Just imagine what it feels like to be a horse. Force yourself to think like a horse, move like a horse, sense like a horse, and you’ll be one.’
    I concentrated hard on my body, imagining the point of my nose much further from my eyes, the shape of my head and neck much longer. My tongue lolled out of my mouth, ears perked forward. My arms reached for the ground, now hooves and black forelegs. The saddlebags and other gear I had slung over my back vanished from the physical world along with my personal effects. They became a burden on my mind instead. I had memorised them, and found them easy enough to remember while I was in horse form.
    I shook my head, stretched my front legs and looked around for Rekala. She was standing in the trees not far away. I could see myself in her mind, a magnificent dark bay stallion with a thick, almost black mane and tail. There were darker patches of hair around my nose and eyes. I swished my tail, arched my neck and pranced before her, enjoying the spectacle I made.
    ‘Chase me!’ I shouted.
    I pivoted on my hind legs and rushed into the forest, heading south east on the final stretch to Tez. Rekala followed after me, slowly, refusing to take the bait. She was happier now that she was in her natural form and not having to carry any gear, but the last few days had clearly taken their toll on her.
    I kept reminding myself about the gear in the waves as I ran, not to lose them in the exultation of horse form. By the time I arrived in Tez my coat was slick with horse sweat and I’d left Rekala a mile or two behind me.
    I transformed back into my human self, checked that all my clothing was intact and emerged from the woods. I walked the final stretch into Tez, carrying my gear with some difficulty. I sat by a tree on the outskirts of town to wait for Rekala. I took off my sweaty shirt and let it air on the grass.
    Tez was a small city by most standards. Like the other settlements in these parts the town had been burned to the ground and rebuilt a number of times over the ages. The buildings in the main causeway were mostly sandstone although some still had thatched roofs. The outskirts of the city housed commoners and servants, who lived in humble wooden dwellings or in mud-brick homes. The nobles were in the manor district, a walled-off area with a man-made river, a stone fortress and a colourfully tiled bathing house over a hot spring.
    The poorer area didn’t have such fancy public bathing houses, but what it did have was practical. They were wooden steaming rooms you carried your own water and firewood into.
    People crowded the well in the centre of Tez gathering water for themselves and their animals. There were drinking troughs for Rada-kin throughout the city, and roped off grassy areas with coarse woven shade-cloth, scratching posts and salt licks. These animal resting places were usually stocked with dried meat and fish, hay, pea-grass, fruit, nuts and seeds. There were also brushes, rugs, boxes with open archways and plentiful bowls and buckets stacked for any animal’s use.
    People occasionally took advantage of these resources when looking after their natural beasts, but any resources they used were supposed to be replaced soon thereafter. The same rule applied to the Rada-kin; each Rada had to contribute to the stockpile. If the natural animals sometimes used up a certain resource, the Rada-kin rarely complained. They were usually glad to see other animals benefitting from humankind’s benevolence toward them. I contributed a small sack of milkbulb.
    Rekala padded out of the forest, chuffed at me and flopped down to rest again. I chuffed back at her and massaged the muscles of her neck and shoulders.
    Leaving Rekala to doze beside our gear, I went for a walk into the Tez Marketplace. Packs of