Minho POV

Minho glanced over at the surprisingly short male whose long braids moved with his steps as he walked beside him. He remembered the moment when the stranger had gotten off his horse vividly, especially his most definitely visible surprise at the tiny male’s hight. On horseback he had looked so tall, so majestic but back on the ground, the top of his head barely reached Minho’s shoulder. Despite his size, he carried himself with such confidence and clarity, that, if anything, his presence was just as overpowering as before.

Never before had Minho found himself intrigued by another man, not to this extent at least. Taemin, if that really was his name, made his insides twist and he wasn’t sure in what way. The tiny man, whose body that on first impression had seemed so fragile, radiated a kind of strength that he had only been exposed to very few times on his travels. There was something about him that kept Minho on his toes, still unsure if the stranger posed a threat to his and his horse’s well being. It was almost as if Taemin could kill him the very second that he slipped up, the moment he would consider him dangerous.

Aside from the way he carried himself and how he was commanding the majestic mare that was walking a few meters in front of them, Minho could barely take his eyes off the stranger, for other reasons. One being his deep black eyes that seemed to hold so many secrets that will never be spoken aloud and the other one being him trying to find out if he might have heard of this clan before.

Carefully, he analysed his clothes, his shoes, his hair, as well as the obvious body modification that was visible.

Taemin wasn’t following the trends of any cities nor was he fitting into the common beauty standards. If anything, he looked more like a wild man, his hair long reaching almost down to his buttocks even when braided and his skin was of a warm tanned tone- What really threw him off though were several metal rings that were going through his ears and his lower lip.

Piercings weren’t common practice in any of the kingdoms he had visited, and if they were, they surely weren’t placed through someone’s lip. Tattoos were more common but considered something primal, mostly worn by the southern folk near the sea where it also served as a form of identification. The line-work that peaked out from the collar of Taemin’s linen shirt was not something he had ever seen before.

Placing him anywhere was therefore inherently complicated, if not impossible and he was starting to look forward to his visit to the other’s clan. Maybe he would be able to get to know their way of living, document it and carry that knowledge into the world.

They were walking next to each other silently, neither of them speaking. There wasn’t really anything left to say and Taemin didn’t seem to be a man of many words. If anything, it was obvious that the young man hadn’t enjoyed a thorough education, as he clearly wasn’t familiar with many of the words Minho had used in their initial conversation and spoke in short, simple sentences.

Taemin’s black mare clearly didn’t enjoy the slow pace that had been established because of Mars’ lame leg. He was limping heavily but bit through the pain like the fighter he was, or maybe it was the small male’s reassuring hand on his neck that kept him going. The latter, while not communicating well verbally with him, seemed to be very good at handling his horse.

“How much longer until we arrive at your home?” Minho asked, trying to use simple sentences.

“You see the tents?” Taemin said, pointing towards the mountains where Minho was able to make out a column of smoke.

“Oh! I think so? Where the smoke is?” Minho replied with a soft smile.

“Yes.” The small man replied, running his fingers through Mars’ mane reassuringly. “Will you find the way? I will ... say ... tell to our chief that you are coming. We don’t have.... guests.”

“I just have to walk towards the smoke? I think I am capable of finding your camp from here.” Minho said, pointing into the distance before looking over to the tiny man who was nodding at him with a smile.

“Yes.” He replied before calling over his disproportionately huge mare with a whistle. “I will wait for you there.”

With a strange feeling in his chest, he watched Taemin get on the black mare’s back, almost appearing to be weightless as he jumped and swung his legs over the huge horse’s back.

With a last short glance towards Minho, the short male dug his heels into his mare’s side, making her speed up immediately, building an incredible speed within seconds. Minho had seen many horse races throughout his travels, and he could confidently say that this one horse would leave a majority of all racing horses behind in a trail of dust without ever having been properly trained.

He felt a strange tightness in his chest as he watched the rider and his black horse shrink in the distance. Was it envy? Was it admiration? Was it fascination? Minho didn’t know, all he did know was that Mars next to him was going to have a tough time getting to the camp in this state. He pushed all thoughts about the long-haired man away, putting all his attention on his lame stallion that needed to be encouraged to keep going.

The closer they came to the camp, the clearer he was able to make out the individual tents and he was starting to get nervous. Would he be welcome? If he could believe what the small stranger had said, they didn’t get many guests and he was suddenly worried that he might be chased away instead of being welcomed warmly.

His fears were appearing to be valid, the gazes of the clan members who spotted him in the distance cold. From what he could tell, they were all wearing their hair in the exact same way as Taemin was, of a deep black, pulled back into two long braids, no matter their age or gender.

Minho was afraid of walking into the camp without Taemin, gripping tightly onto the string of his bag. He was unsure what awaited him upon coming in contact with these people and decided to take a break to tend his stallion’s leg, showing the onlookers that he wasn’t here to disturb their peaceful life.

Luckily, it wasn’t long until the familiar black mare appeared from behind a tent, the small rider on her back.

“The chief said he... to meet you. He said, you can stay in one of our old tents. We will... heal? Care for your stallion’s wounds while you stay.” Taemin said, his face showing a lot less emotion as it had just a few hours ago when they had been alone.

“That is very kind of you. I really appreciate your help and am willing to do whatever I can to repay your kindness.”

“For now, follow me.”

Minho immediately shouldered his heavy bag - the reasons for his travels, pulling on Mars’ reins gently to get him to follow.

He was glad that handing over Mars was the first thing they did, unsure if the stallion would have been able to walk a lot further. The young woman who tended his ankle smiled at Minho a little hesitantly but didn’t mind him further, all her attention on Mars who seemed to be more than comfortable in her care.

“Thank you so much.” Minho said, bowing low to show his gratitude and the woman’s eyes widened.

“This is my duty. You must not thank me.” Her voice was soft like honey and her way of speaking faintly reminded him of his sister. She must be around the same age as this woman was now, he realised. She had just about seen her fifteenth summer when he had left.

Minho tried not to think about his family too much as nothing good would come from it. All it made him feel was guilt and the painful longing for the people who had given him life and had tried to hold him back from going out into the world. He missed them and he was sorry. Sorry for leaving, sorry for making them worry, sorry for tainting their secure and worry-less life with the fear of losing a son.

He was aware that him going out into the world meant that he had to give up on many things, knew that he would never fulfil his parents wish of settling down and starting a family where they could visit their grandchildren. He would never be in a place long enough to uphold deep friendships or relationships. His life was filled with fleeting encounters, travel companions that he would part ways with upon arriving in the next settlement and never see again. Women in brothels that were giving him momentary physical satisfaction, sometimes leaving him craving a more meaningful long-lived connection.

Sometimes, when he stayed long enough, searching for a piece of literature in a bigger city, a person would confess their love to him, and he would enjoy the experience of being the recipient of real emotions. Even if these encounters were momentary, the relationships short, they made it possible to experience what most considered normal. They gave him happiness while they lasted, making the farewells lose their sadness - at least to him. While he never pretended to stay forever, they blamed him for leaving, believing that their love could make him stay while he had never said he would.

And still, he didn't regret those encounters. The love he was allowed to experience even if his feelings weren't as deep as those his partners had felt, even if he left, he always looked back on their shared time with fondness, the happiness felt in those moments transcending time.

Despite it all, he had seen things others couldn’t imagine, experienced hospitality in the most remote places. He had talked to people all over, learned about their beliefs, their way of living, their values and their opinions.

His purpose was to carry that knowledge out into the world, connecting the minds of people who have never met and preserving what he heard and saw in writing and painting.

He never regretted choosing this life and he knew that he never will.

Minho had seen many things, many ways of living but still, but despite being no stranger to being a stranger, he must have made a funny sight when walking through the camp. His eyes were wide open as he tried to take in all the different impressions that poured in upon him, afraid of missing something. There were beautifully crafted tapestries hanging everywhere and people were cooking dinner in what seemed like community kitchen areas, the steam originating from the metallic pots filling the air with a delicious smell that made his mouth water.

“We will eat later.” Taemin said simply, now walking, as he had bid his ma