Right after the bridge collapsed

Will struggled against the swirling current trying to swim to the surface, but only managed to sink deeper in the water. His lungs felt as if they where about to explode, chest burning and his limbs becoming lead. In one last desperate attempt, Will reached out his left arm, his hand reaching for the dimming light above, but to no avail.

I'm sorry Alyss, I love you. I always will.

It was the last thought he had before he went unconscious from the lack of air.

>>>--------->

His lungs burned from running all day and night for the past....he didn't know he was a horse, days didn't matter. What did was that he got help for his master...for Will.

Blood seeped from dozens of cuts and slashes made by the bandit, it made his shaggy coat slick and clump. Sweat foamed at his mouth and mixed in with the blood on his sides, trickling down into his eyes, blinding him, but Tug still ran.

Tug ran for as long as he could until he simply gave way. He fell to the ground, front knees first, unable to go on. His breaths came in short gasps, wheezing in and out. Tug gave one final neigh in hopes that someone would come for him.

->>>---------->

A farmer on his way to Wensley village to sell his pigs, was riding a old mule with the pigs snorting and walking in front. Suddenly one of the smaller pigs squealed and ran off the path and towards something lying on the ground.

The farmer pulled his mule to a stop and dismounted to see what the pig had found. When he reached it he gaped at what he saw. A horse. A Ranger horse, lying on the ground with bleeding wounds criss-crossing his coat.

Salt Peter knew this horse. It was Tug, Ranger Wills horse. He remembered seeing Will ride him when he was still barley into a year of his training and had asked him and Ranger Halt to track down a raging boar that had been wrecking everything in its path.

Bending down, Peter looked more closely at Tug. His breathing was shallow and his eyes where closed, but still alive...barley. Gripping the reins, Salt Peter pulled on them, trying to get Tug to stand.

Resisting at first, Tug slowly put his legs under him and groaned as he stood up, his legs slightly shaking under the strain. Standing with his head hung low, Tug didn't look up at Salt Peter as he gently brushed his hand over Tugs back, pulling it away with it stained in fresh blood.

Making soothing and encouraging noises, Peter lead Tug back to the Mule and tied his reins to the back of the mules saddle and mounted the mule putting it in a slow walk so he wouldn't risk any more pain for Tug.