on his belt for easy access. The Grass Plains were full of both predators and prey, and we wanted to be neither today. The air felt cool. An early-morning nip signified summer’s true end.
My spirits rose as we neared the hebra barn. I hadn’t been far outside the boundaries since before the earthquake. The roamers would be in soon. We would see Liam and Alicia. Maybe it would be okay.
The barn, almost entirely rebuilt, smelled more like new wood than hebra sweat and hay. The hebras stamped restlessly in their stalls after the morning feeding, peering at us through the open top halves of the stall doors and making low whickering noises.
Steven had once described hebras to me as a strange combination of horses and camels and giraffes with beards. He’d used pictures of the three animals. He started with a camel, and pasted halfa giraffe’s neck onto it, then changed the ears to look like a floppy version of horse ears, removed the hump, made the hooves more like horse hooves, and drawn a long curly beard.
The wooden barn held about twenty hebras, but I had a favorite. Jinks had the only white coat, with a dark tip on her tail and dark beard. I kissed her long soft nose, slid the face harness over her head, and pulled her out to a hitch while Tom and Joseph chose mounts. They both picked mottled brown animals that matched the dirt on the plains and the color of the late-fall grass. Joseph bridled his own favorite, Legs, who was taller than Jinks by almost a foot, and a faster runner. Tom chose a steady mount named Sugar Wheat, named for the way her tail looked like the flower of the most common grass on the plains.
Hebra saddles have high backs to provide support for the riders against the tall animal’s rolling gait. To climb up, I lowered a rope with loops tied into it from the saddle, took three steps up this loop ladder, then flung my right leg up and over Jinks’s neck, since the back of the saddle was too high to clear the other way. Once on Jinks, my feet hung as high as my head when I stood. She twisted her head all the way around to look on me, her eyes level with mine, nickering softly. Perhaps she wanted out as much as I did.
Joseph brightened visibly as he climbed on Legs; it was the first genuine smile I’d seen on him since the earthquake. He led the way. We rode east, through the stubble of the cornfields, then turned south and passed under the huge wood and metal hoist used to lift heavy goods from the plains to Artistos. We crossed the boundary, the bell tinkling three times as it read our idents, and pulled up at the edge of the cliff.
The single paved road between the cliff and the spaceport cut the sea of greens and browns and reds like a wide river. Thick swaths of short grass on both sides of the road showed where we harvested hebra feed for winter. The Lace River bordered the plains to our left, and to our right, far away, the dark greens of forest marched uphill. Across the plains, the ocean glittered like a bright blue sparkling line between the ground and the light blue sky. Tom pointed below us, near the base of the cliff. “Look—wild hebras.”
A medium-sized herd, maybe ten hebras. They grazed below us, visible as long thin backs and tails cutting their way slowly through the hebra-belly-height grass. Two scout hebras patrolled the edges of the herd, heads up.
We wound single file down steep switchbacks, leaning back, our saddles creaking under us. Two huge plains eagles swirled lazily on warming air currents, spiraling up from below us to hang in the air above the cliff.
When we reached the road, Joseph stayed ahead and Tom and I rode side by side. I glanced over at Tom. “He’s enjoying himself. It was a good idea to come out here.”
Tom looked pleased. “He looks better than he has in days. Nava’s fit to be tied that he isn’t on the data nets. We need to get the outer perimeter working before winter sets in.”
“I know,” I said simply. Everyone needed Joseph
My spirits rose as we neared the hebra barn. I hadn’t been far outside the boundaries since before the earthquake. The roamers would be in soon. We would see Liam and Alicia. Maybe it would be okay.
The barn, almost entirely rebuilt, smelled more like new wood than hebra sweat and hay. The hebras stamped restlessly in their stalls after the morning feeding, peering at us through the open top halves of the stall doors and making low whickering noises.
Steven had once described hebras to me as a strange combination of horses and camels and giraffes with beards. He’d used pictures of the three animals. He started with a camel, and pasted halfa giraffe’s neck onto it, then changed the ears to look like a floppy version of horse ears, removed the hump, made the hooves more like horse hooves, and drawn a long curly beard.
The wooden barn held about twenty hebras, but I had a favorite. Jinks had the only white coat, with a dark tip on her tail and dark beard. I kissed her long soft nose, slid the face harness over her head, and pulled her out to a hitch while Tom and Joseph chose mounts. They both picked mottled brown animals that matched the dirt on the plains and the color of the late-fall grass. Joseph bridled his own favorite, Legs, who was taller than Jinks by almost a foot, and a faster runner. Tom chose a steady mount named Sugar Wheat, named for the way her tail looked like the flower of the most common grass on the plains.
Hebra saddles have high backs to provide support for the riders against the tall animal’s rolling gait. To climb up, I lowered a rope with loops tied into it from the saddle, took three steps up this loop ladder, then flung my right leg up and over Jinks’s neck, since the back of the saddle was too high to clear the other way. Once on Jinks, my feet hung as high as my head when I stood. She twisted her head all the way around to look on me, her eyes level with mine, nickering softly. Perhaps she wanted out as much as I did.
Joseph brightened visibly as he climbed on Legs; it was the first genuine smile I’d seen on him since the earthquake. He led the way. We rode east, through the stubble of the cornfields, then turned south and passed under the huge wood and metal hoist used to lift heavy goods from the plains to Artistos. We crossed the boundary, the bell tinkling three times as it read our idents, and pulled up at the edge of the cliff.
The single paved road between the cliff and the spaceport cut the sea of greens and browns and reds like a wide river. Thick swaths of short grass on both sides of the road showed where we harvested hebra feed for winter. The Lace River bordered the plains to our left, and to our right, far away, the dark greens of forest marched uphill. Across the plains, the ocean glittered like a bright blue sparkling line between the ground and the light blue sky. Tom pointed below us, near the base of the cliff. “Look—wild hebras.”
A medium-sized herd, maybe ten hebras. They grazed below us, visible as long thin backs and tails cutting their way slowly through the hebra-belly-height grass. Two scout hebras patrolled the edges of the herd, heads up.
We wound single file down steep switchbacks, leaning back, our saddles creaking under us. Two huge plains eagles swirled lazily on warming air currents, spiraling up from below us to hang in the air above the cliff.
When we reached the road, Joseph stayed ahead and Tom and I rode side by side. I glanced over at Tom. “He’s enjoying himself. It was a good idea to come out here.”
Tom looked pleased. “He looks better than he has in days. Nava’s fit to be tied that he isn’t on the data nets. We need to get the outer perimeter working before winter sets in.”
“I know,” I said simply. Everyone needed Joseph
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