Quill never rode horses, could neither afford one nor possess the patience to learn to ride one. He was close enough to beasts as he was just existing, he saw no need to lord himself around upon the four-legged monstrosities. Instead he opted for a more natural -or at the very least more entertaining- method, and summoned up his wind affinity. 

Being a very light person, his mana-forged winds had little trouble carrying him upon soft breezes. He folded out the staff that had dangled compressed at his side and sat upon it like some witch from a child's stories, floating along with the caravan and whistling happily.

He listened to Edward's rally, his grin turning cynical. Drifting down amidst the other horses, he spoke more or less openly to any that would hear. "Mother, Steel, Vine, Sand. Perhaps I should change my name to Dirt, have people pray to me too. We've got a long journey ahead on the Dirt, only seems appropriate."