The next few moments seemed to whir by in some kind of blur of motion - one moment he had found clarity and the next seemed fogged and tangled. Before he knew it the steed bearing them was slowing, nickering for its home. He could understand it as he could most mammals, dogs more so than most others, but the instinct wasn't hard to decipher.
The cottage appeared in his line of sight and the haze over his vision seemed less. It seemed clearer then.
He was glad for it.
A dismount was necessary and instinct took over in offering Honour a hand down from the horse though he wasn't sure if she accepted or not. She had a grace to her, something Logan could never posess.
As she beckoned him across the threshold of her home, her cottage that bore a slight resemblance to his own cabin which now lay in ruin, Logan followed. Exhausted, he followed her lead with breakfast as the dawn to a new day, a literal thing which lay ahead and demanded to be acknowledged.