Angel's POV
They gave me a horse.
I stared at the beautiful chestnut mare, hardly believing my luck. After everything I'd endured - the beatings, the starvation, the degradation - I'd expected to walk. To stumble along behind the group like the burden I clearly was - like I'd done with the slave traders.
But someone had brought me a horse. A gentle-looking mare with kind eyes and a glossy coat.
"She's yours for the journey," one of the warriors said gruffly, not quite meeting my eyes. "Name's Maple. She's well-tempered."
"Thank you," I whispered, genuinely grateful.
Mounting was difficult in my torn dress, even with Uriel's oversized coat wrapped around me. My muscles protested every movement, still sore from days of abuse. But eventually, I managed to settle into the saddle, and the relief of sitting instead of walking nearly made me weep.
