When they reached the edge of the nearest settlement, Ragneg cut the ropes. He didn't turn Elian over to the sheriff, whose gallows were often too busy. Instead, he looked at the shivering, exhausted thief and said, "Next time you want to ride, earn the coin to buy the saddle. If I see you near a stable again, I won't be teaching a lesson—I'll be finishing one."
Ragneg turned Cinder toward the horizon, leaving the thief in the dust, finally understanding that in the Steppes, a horse's worth is measured in the survival of the man who respects it. Ragneg_-_Disciplining_A_Horse_Thief.mp4
The wind howled across the Red Steppes as Ragneg, a man whose face was a roadmap of scars and sun-hardened leather, tightened the cinch on his remaining mare. Beside him, an empty picket line swayed—the space where his prized stallion, Cinder, should have been. Ragneg didn’t need to see the tracks to know who had taken him. Only one man in the territory was desperate enough to steal from a Black-Sands Tracker: Elian the Rat. When they reached the edge of the nearest
Ragneg followed the trail for three days, moving with a silent, predatory patience. He found Elian camped in the mouth of a crumbling sandstone canyon, the stolen horse tied carelessly to a dead shrub. Elian was hunched over a meager fire, unaware that the shadow of his own greed had finally caught up to him. If I see you near a stable again,
The "discipline" wasn't a quick execution. Ragneg made Elian walk. For two days, Ragneg rode Cinder at a steady pace while Elian was forced to follow on foot, bound by a long lead rope. He wasn't whipped or beaten, but he was shown the grueling reality of the desert without a mount. Every mile was a lesson in the value of the animal he had tried to take.