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Prompt 1: Introduce your rider and horse. What is your rider’s response to the draft?

Rider: Dane Calden
Horse: Donalino
Army: Esterrian

Flames hissed around his body, it’s burning tendrils licked at his exposed skin. The fire spun and leaped as he twirled the flaming sword. The crowd that had gathered around him gasped and applauded with each new display and daring trick he executed. This was his element. Not the glory of the performance, but the daring dance between him and the unforgiving flames. One misstep and the fire wouldn’t hesitate to bite him, but he knew how to tame it and make it obey his commands. With one last smokey breath, he extinguished the fire and gave a quick bow as the people around him let out a cheer before quickly dispersing. A few kinder folk threw him a coin or two, those who could afford it anyway. Times were getting tough with rumors of an approaching war. Everyone wanted to cling to what they had and hope for the best. All around him, people whispered “poison” “death” and “revenge”. But they had been saying this for years, and he had learned to pay it no mind. That is, until a pair of heavy boots clunked up to his performing circle and threw him a heavy shilling. He looked up from packing his things. A hulking man towered above him, his grey eyes bored down into him, and from his posh coat with a coat of arms insignia, he must be someone of importance. But what was a man like him doing in the dirty streets of Redwall?
    “Impressive performance.” The man said. “It’s not every day you see talent like that.”
“Um... Thanks.” The man offered out a hand and the boy stumbled to his feet and they gripped arms.
    “What’s your name?”
    “Dane.”
    “Pleasure. Name’s Captain Turgus Wickner, under General Nigel Plaskett of the Esterrian army. I’m under orders to issue a draft. All able bodied men are required to assemble at their respective armories in preparation for war.” The captain fished out a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it over. The boy’s stomach dropped. “That’s a list of instruction on how to reach the armory. Failure to comply will result in a fine and ten years of service to the brine ships.”
    “But what if I don’t know how to fight?” Dane argued. Not that he didn’t know how, but the Captain didn’t know that.
    “No matter. They’ll teach you in no time.” He raised an eyebrow. “And by the way you dance boy, you’d think you were a master at fighting.” The Captain said. “Good day.” And with that, he quickly turned on his heel and left, leaving Dane stunned in his wake.
    Drafted. He couldn’t believe it. How was he supposed to fight in a war that had nothing to do with him or even cared about? He looked over the paper. It pictured a small map with instructions, just like the man had said, along with a warning at the bottom; A picture of a man at the guillotine. The message was obvious. Cursing to himself, Dane finished packing his things and made for home, or at least what he called home. It was a small makeshift shack in the middle of the woods, far away from the water’s edge. It had one room with a dirt floor, a bed and a few scattered items around a fireplace for cooking. It wasn’t much, but it was all that he was able to make by himself, and at least it kept him out of the wet summer rains and the biting cold of winter, and especially the sea.
    Dane gave out a sharp whistle and waited. It wasn’t long before a black horse came trotting up from the fields and to his outstretched hand.
    “Hey buddy.” He whispered, running his hands across his horse’s cheek. He breathed in deep, letting the sweet familiar smell of horse sweat wash away the memory of recent events. If only it were this simple to forget all the horrible things that have happened. He would be able to lead a much more peaceful life if he could. His horse nibbled at his shirt. He wanted a treat.
    “I have some bad news.” He said. Donalino perked up his ears, listening. “I’ve been drafted. I have to fight in this cursed war, and you’ll have to come with me.” Donalino breathed softly into his chest. “I hope you remember your training, ‘cause you’re going to need it, those bastards.” Donalino snorted, as if accusing Dane for doubting him. Of course he remembered his training! What kind of horse would he be if he didn’t?
    “I suppose we’ll have to leave tomorrow morning if we don’t want our heads lobbed off.”

    There wasn’t much for him to pack that morning. His sleeping roll, an extra pair of clothes, his cloak, bow and hunting knife as well as his fire dancing pack. Everything fit neatly into the saddle bags. He took one last look at the little shack. It wasn’t too late to change his mind about this. He could ignore the call to arms and live in hiding. He was good at that. But it also required moving again, away from this little forest oasis where the knights couldn’t track him down. Moving, he decided would be just as risky as going to war. Both could easily result in death, seeing as the mountains were unforgiving, as well at the men he was about to fight. He sighed and mounted his horse. War seemed to be the better option. And besides, it wasn’t like he hadn’t cheated death before, he thought as his heart pounded unevenly in his chest.

Description
Prompt 1: Introduce your rider and horse. What is your rider’s response to the draft?

Rider: Dane Calden
Horse: Donalino
Army: Esterrian

Flames hissed around his body, it’s burning tendrils licked at his exposed skin. The fire spun and leaped as he twirled the flaming sword. The crowd that had gathered around him gasped and applauded with each new display and daring trick he executed. This was his element. Not the glory of the performance, but the daring dance between him and the unforgiving flames. One misstep and the fire wouldn’t hesitate to bite him, but he knew how to tame it and make it obey his commands. With one last smokey breath, he extinguished the fire and gave a quick bow as the people around him let out a cheer before quickly dispersing. A few kinder folk threw him a coin or two, those who could afford it anyway. Times were getting tough with rumors of an approaching war. Everyone wanted to cling to what they had and hope for the best. All around him, people whispered “poison” “death” and “revenge”. But they had been saying this for years, and he had learned to pay it no mind. That is, until a pair of heavy boots clunked up to his performing circle and threw him a heavy shilling. He looked up from packing his things. A hulking man towered above him, his grey eyes bored down into him, and from his posh coat with a coat of arms insignia, he must be someone of importance. But what was a man like him doing in the dirty streets of Redwall?
    “Impressive performance.” The man said. “It’s not every day you see talent like that.”
“Um... Thanks.” The man offered out a hand and the boy stumbled to his feet and they gripped arms.
    “What’s your name?”
    “Dane.”
    “Pleasure. Name’s Captain Turgus Wickner, under General Nigel Plaskett of the Esterrian army. I’m under orders to issue a draft. All able bodied men are required to assemble at their respective armories in preparation for war.” The captain fished out a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it over. The boy’s stomach dropped. “That’s a list of instruction on how to reach the armory. Failure to comply will result in a fine and ten years of service to the brine ships.”
    “But what if I don’t know how to fight?” Dane argued. Not that he didn’t know how, but the Captain didn’t know that.
    “No matter. They’ll teach you in no time.” He raised an eyebrow. “And by the way you dance boy, you’d think you were a master at fighting.” The Captain said. “Good day.” And with that, he quickly turned on his heel and left, leaving Dane stunned in his wake.
    Drafted. He couldn’t believe it. How was he supposed to fight in a war that had nothing to do with him or even cared about? He looked over the paper. It pictured a small map with instructions, just like the man had said, along with a warning at the bottom; A picture of a man at the guillotine. The message was obvious. Cursing to himself, Dane finished packing his things and made for home, or at least what he called home. It was a small makeshift shack in the middle of the woods, far away from the water’s edge. It had one room with a dirt floor, a bed and a few scattered items around a fireplace for cooking. It wasn’t much, but it was all that he was able to make by himself, and at least it kept him out of the wet summer rains and the biting cold of winter, and especially the sea.
    Dane gave out a sharp whistle and waited. It wasn’t long before a black horse came trotting up from the fields and to his outstretched hand.
    “Hey buddy.” He whispered, running his hands across his horse’s cheek. He breathed in deep, letting the sweet familiar smell of horse sweat wash away the memory of recent events. If only it were this simple to forget all the horrible things that have happened. He would be able to lead a much more peaceful life if he could. His horse nibbled at his shirt. He wanted a treat.
    “I have some bad news.” He said. Donalino perked up his ears, listening. “I’ve been drafted. I have to fight in this cursed war, and you’ll have to come with me.” Donalino breathed softly into his chest. “I hope you remember your training, ‘cause you’re going to need it, those bastards.” Donalino snorted, as if accusing Dane for doubting him. Of course he remembered his training! What kind of horse would he be if he didn’t?
    “I suppose we’ll have to leave tomorrow morning if we don’t want our heads lobbed off.”

    There wasn’t much for him to pack that morning. His sleeping roll, an extra pair of clothes, his cloak, bow and hunting knife as well as his fire dancing pack. Everything fit neatly into the saddle bags. He took one last look at the little shack. It wasn’t too late to change his mind about this. He could ignore the call to arms and live in hiding. He was good at that. But it also required moving again, away from this little forest oasis where the knights couldn’t track him down. Moving, he decided would be just as risky as going to war. Both could easily result in death, seeing as the mountains were unforgiving, as well at the men he was about to fight. He sighed and mounted his horse. War seemed to be the better option. And besides, it wasn’t like he hadn’t cheated death before, he thought as his heart pounded unevenly in his chest.