"Got it."

Said Grisha has rounded up three of the horses and begun saddling them.

The Darkling came in on a fourth, and she calls it over to her with a click of her tongue as she goes to offer Svetka a hand up. 

Two horses, then.

She directs Val to tie the spare up to the carriage to await the clean-up detail.

Alright. 

She makes a small face at the heavy draft horse - and how big it is. 

Her own war horse is skinnier, even if it's nearly as tall. 

She has it kneel, though, and starts directing Private Starkov in how to get on its back and settle herself. Her tone's firm, imperious, but not particularly cruel at least. 

Oh, it bends down. That's convenient.

Amused smile. "His name is Tariel," she says, settling Svetka in and then sitting behind her. "He will carry us well." And then she clicks her tongue, and the horse rises. 

"He's, um, well-trained."

Why is her heart beating so fast, this is silly, it's just a horse, it's not like it's scary.

And she's very securely held right now, with her back pressed to the Darkling's chest, the Darkling's hands on her waist to steady her. (The horse apparently doesn't need reins.)

"He is," she says, tone fond. "I raised him myself."

"How old is he?"

"Twenty," she says, patting his neck. "He's been on campaign with me for a decade now." She shifts a little, and the horse snorts, shaking his head, and then walks forward as the Darkling sends a quick glance at their companions. "All good to ride?" she calls. 

Elvira has helped Val scale the intimidating heights of Mt. Horse and swung herself up into her own saddle.

"Ready."

"Ready," she says, very resolutely not looking at the ground. 

"Onward, then." And her horse drops into a ground-eating pace. At the outpost, she has Elvira and Val switch to fresh horses and requisitions three further horses - one to carry supplies, two as backups for the other two riders (she has her own backup horse, another black stallion she introduces to Svetka as Avtandil - also trained by her, though he's about eight years younger than Tariel).

(She's largely quiet on the ride to the outpost, but from her brief comments there, it's clear she has very strong opinions about the correct treatment, breeding, and training of horses.)

As they're setting out from there, though, she turns her attention more fully to Svetka.

"This must be disorienting for you, Private," she says, voice low.

"Well. When I passed out I was about to die, and when I woke up again I was still about to die, so."

"Never ridden a horse before, though."

"A pity - and a fortune, that you have the opportunity now. Horses are the greatest beast mankind has ever commanded."

"Why is that?"

"Some would say their power, or their use in battle, or in their great service to mankind's advancement - and those are true, but there are stronger beasts, and others who have joined us in war or in work. But the horse learns easily and thoroughly that he is mankind's; a horse raised from birth by a good hand has more loyalty than any other creature I have ever met. A well trained war horse does not flinch from even the harshest service, and though he is far stronger than us, he knows that it is mankind he bows to. He maintains rigid control of himself, in every defiance of his instinct. He accepts new training with grace."

"The hand that tames the horse is bettered for it, too. To identify a horse's best use and train him relentlessly towards that is a matter of great skill, and cultivating that skill is a matter of cultivating your own perfection. Perfect training requires immense discipline from rider and beast alike - a horse is not so forgiving as a dog, and horse and rider must be able to operate as one unit."

"Huh."

"That's, um, an interesting perspective."

"I very much enjoy training beautiful, powerful creatures," she murmurs, hands tightening on Svetka's waist briefly as they start going down a hill, helping her set her weight correctly (leaning her back into the Darkling).

Saints it's a good thing the Darkling can't see her face because Svetka is pretty sure she's blushing!!

She murmurs a few suggestions, then, corrections on Svetka's riding technique as they enter a rougher section of trail - how she uses her thighs, where she rests her hands, how to hold her torso... Which muscles to use, indicated with gentle touches...

No one ever told her the Darkling was sexy aaaaaaa

Her breath hitches slightly for each touch, and she whispers thanks for the corrections.

"You're welcome, Private Starkov. Training new riders is a pleasure."