“Absolutely not,” Dorian said immediately. Bull rolled his eye, leaning against the small mountain of flesh and bad temper that claimed to be a warhorse. He was all black, and Dorian was fairly certain he was actually a demon in disguise. Bull had named the damn thing Killer for a reason.
“He’s the only thing big enough that can carry two people,” Bull said patiently, gesturing to the others. Varric waved from his pony, and Lavellan, on top of a delicately boned palfrey, simply looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. His own mount, Lux, nudged him with his nose, looking for treats. Unlike the others, his mount had been shoed, and had thrown one. Riding Lux was out of the question.
He sighed, digging out a piece of apple from his lunch so the horse would stop trying to eat his leathers, and looked reluctantly back at Killer.
He could have sworn his eyes flashed red.