A long sigh is given, and he runs a hand through his hair. She’s broken a leg, (courtesy of giant number two—) and moving has practically been rendered impossible. Their other horse is dead off to the side somewhere, but there is no way travel will be comfortable either way. Vlaya is being surprisingly adamant about not riding the damned horse, and Vari releases a groan. The Nord strides over, and, well—
picks her up.
The woman doesn’t make a sound but does make a move to kick him in the groin area, which is swiftly dodged. Grumbling, he walks over and swings one foot into the stirrups. The beast jolts forward, and Vari has to reach forward and grasp onto the reins so it won’t move away too quickly. Vlaya lets out a bit of a shriek as they go, and he’s sure her leg is in immense pain despite the potions he’s given her. She’s surprisingly frail. Another motion of the arms allows him to hoist her over the saddle and situate her comfortably as possible. The horse huffs.
Vari makes sure they have all they need for the next pursuit — a city, so they can heal her leg — before mounting the horse behind her and grabbing the reins. Her head lolls to the side a bit. A day of quick traveling should get them to Whiterun by the morning. “Ready, lass?”
”Fuck you.”
”Cute.”