Solomon pulled tight the leather straps on the saddle before taking a step back.
The longer he had Mercy, the more he began to feel as though his steed wasn't that difficult to read at all.
Even though he was learning more and more words every day, Mercy didn't really talk a lot. Usually just one or two sentences that conveyed what he saw, or what he was hungry for, followed by several hours of silence. Unless he was directly spoken to, that is.
But the spirit horse had some very specific tells that were rather easy to pick up on. The rigid, stoic posture he adopted was similar to a pose a child might use to mimic a heroic character.
With the wind blowing through his mane and his new armor glimmering under the morning sun, the Stallion looked every bit as good as he felt. The fact that he was aware of it meant that he took all the more pride in himself.
"There we are. You look good, boy. How do you feel?" Solomon stepped back.
"...Powerful." Mercy said.
