The horse stood with its head down, sleeping as it stood hobbled at a campsite along the road east of a river. A sudden noise woke him and he turned his ears towards it. Soft sounds came creeping forward and the familiar scent of a human. A strange human though, not the man who usually rode him. The hobbles around his feet were undone and he was lead away by the leather halter around his head. He didn't want to go away from the others and he balked, planting his front feet firmly onto the ground and looking back. Then he noticed the others were following in the darkness and he was reassured.
Away from the camp, the men lit lanterns and one climbed on his back. They rode, slowly but surely into the rolling hills south of the road, into complete darkness. He was happy that the others were with him, it felt safe to be in a herd. Finally, they reached where they were going, a makeshift camp by the river. The water lapping the riverbank was fresh and they had oats waiting for them.
The weeks that followed were confusing. They took him east, back to the city he had come from before, then handed over to another man. Then north still. More horses joined them. Finally, they reached a stable, where a man ran his hands over his coat and felt his legs, lifting them one by one to inspect his hooves.
"This one will fetch a good price," the horse trader said. "Shame he will likely end up in a trolloc cookpot."
The Alamir smob has been turned into a minismob, with a chain leading up to the final base, running north from the vicinity of Remen.