The horse pranced, its wide, terrified eyes were fixed on me. It knew it wasn't supposed to be here. It knew that there was supposed to be a different horse here, and a different rider.
This man was not my love. He was not the one whose hand had written the letter that I held so tightly, that I held as though it were my lifeline. He was...different. Frightening. That was what he was. Frightening. The black cloak clung to the broad-shouldered figure of the rider. He did not move from the saddle. Was he dead? I inspected, but his chest was heaving as he drew in labored breaths. His eyes were shut, I was about to walk away, leave the strange figure to his own business..when his eyes snapped open. It didn't seem as though that would make much of a difference, though. They were clouded with the telltale fog of blindness,and they darted madly about in the most unnerving of ways. He opened pale lips to speak. "You..." his voice was hoarse, accompanied by a hacking spell of coughing.
Just about the, it became apparent that the horse was not scared because it knew it shouldn't have been here. It was scared for the man on its back. He began to slump to one side, instinctively, I reached up to push him back in the saddle, "Sir...?" I withdrew my hand to find it coated in a dark, sticky substance. Blood. He was bleeding. His shoulder was bleeding. He was sick...I could see it now, the gauntness in his face betrayed that fact, the dark circles under his eyes, the hollows in his cheekbones.
But he was just a stranger, he would be...well, maybe he'd die soon. Maybe I wouldn't have to do anything for him. This stranger...who seemed to be looking for me. Then again..he couldn't know who I was if he couldn't see me. At any rate, I couldn't very well watch this man's life pass right before me...could I?