folk around here object strenuously to schoolgirls trampling over nests or disturbing wild magical horses. Pointy-eared beast-hunting folk like Rosalind’s people. Taking in the girl riding behind me, self-contained and obviously enchanted with her steed, it’s a curious thought that she belongs to the same community as the hunters I loathe.
I have to admit keeping to the paths, or I suppose flying along them, is a rule I habitually ignore. Miss Roberts knows I can be trusted, and I will sense any perilous fabled beasts long before I disturb them. Flying sedately above a path seems silly, on days with sunlight sparkling off the waves or warming the downs.
Ember is a little annoyed at being kept entirely to the ground. Fortunately he loves to work his legs sometimes, so I nudge and soothe him with my mind, promising him a good fly as soon as I can manage it. He folds his wings up less sulkily than I feared.
I’m not sure how experienced Rosalind is, so I take the ride at a fairly gentle pace. It’s splendid up here, the dying sunlight sparkling on the waves far below, the cliffs grey and lovely, the air fresh and salty. I wish we didn’t spend so much time cooped up in classrooms. It’s nice having someone to ride with, too. Miss Roberts comes with me sometimes, or Cecily. They are both so busy, though.
We jog along gently together, for a while, and then Rosalind tips me a grin over her shoulder. “Miss Roberts did say Sunshine needs a good run.” Without further warning, she lets loose, without so much as kicking her heels to send Sunshine into a full gallop.
I shout in surprise and urge Ember into full speed, too. I don’t have a hope. A unicorn is fast, much faster than an earthly horse, and this girl rides as if she is part of her steed. Together, they take the twists and turns of the path as if they barely exist.
Ember pelts after her as fast as he can, hampered by his folded wings. Through my laughter, I can feel the injury to Ember’s pride growing. Finally, in direct disobedience to me, he unfolds his wings and lets them lift him up. He falls back even further as he sorts himself out, then he swoops ahead of Sunshine, still running his heart out. Rosalind shouts something, laughing, that I am sure is about cheating.
I know I shouldn’t let Ember get away with being so wilful, but it’s hard to impress discipline on him when he can feel my happiness. I can feel Sunshine, too, his pleasure at being at a free gallop with a Fable Empath on his back combined with an impossible determination to outrun Ember, now wheeling insolently above him.
After a while, I can feel something else entirely.
I gather up Ember, now more docile, and bring him down to the path. By the time we alight, Rosalind is already slipping from the saddle.
“You feel it too, don’t you?”
It’s not really a question. Rosalind nods anyway, her face taut with pain and concern. “It’s this way.” She points inland.
We bind the steeds with our minds to wait on the path. They snort and toss their heads, reluctant, as we head away from the path, pushing through the gorse, unheeding of the prickles. The feeling becomes stronger as we go forward. Pain, terror, sickness, loneliness. . . above all, pain. It’s unendurable.
A hand slips into mine. I look down, surprised, to meet Rosalind’s tear-filled gaze, mutely appealing to me for comfort. I squeeze her hand, hard, needing comfort just as much. The projected feelings are almost overwhelming. What’s worse is trying to imagine the cause. My mind fills with horror and my fingers clench and unclench on Rosalind’s smaller ones.
In the end, we nearly stumble over it, hidden in a depression in the gorge. A cloud of fairies sparkle up into the air around it as we approach, marking where it lies. An alicorn filly.
It’s been there a long time, I think. I don’t really know how to tell. What is obvious is that it doesn’t look good. There’s a terrible gash at the base of one
I have to admit keeping to the paths, or I suppose flying along them, is a rule I habitually ignore. Miss Roberts knows I can be trusted, and I will sense any perilous fabled beasts long before I disturb them. Flying sedately above a path seems silly, on days with sunlight sparkling off the waves or warming the downs.
Ember is a little annoyed at being kept entirely to the ground. Fortunately he loves to work his legs sometimes, so I nudge and soothe him with my mind, promising him a good fly as soon as I can manage it. He folds his wings up less sulkily than I feared.
I’m not sure how experienced Rosalind is, so I take the ride at a fairly gentle pace. It’s splendid up here, the dying sunlight sparkling on the waves far below, the cliffs grey and lovely, the air fresh and salty. I wish we didn’t spend so much time cooped up in classrooms. It’s nice having someone to ride with, too. Miss Roberts comes with me sometimes, or Cecily. They are both so busy, though.
We jog along gently together, for a while, and then Rosalind tips me a grin over her shoulder. “Miss Roberts did say Sunshine needs a good run.” Without further warning, she lets loose, without so much as kicking her heels to send Sunshine into a full gallop.
I shout in surprise and urge Ember into full speed, too. I don’t have a hope. A unicorn is fast, much faster than an earthly horse, and this girl rides as if she is part of her steed. Together, they take the twists and turns of the path as if they barely exist.
Ember pelts after her as fast as he can, hampered by his folded wings. Through my laughter, I can feel the injury to Ember’s pride growing. Finally, in direct disobedience to me, he unfolds his wings and lets them lift him up. He falls back even further as he sorts himself out, then he swoops ahead of Sunshine, still running his heart out. Rosalind shouts something, laughing, that I am sure is about cheating.
I know I shouldn’t let Ember get away with being so wilful, but it’s hard to impress discipline on him when he can feel my happiness. I can feel Sunshine, too, his pleasure at being at a free gallop with a Fable Empath on his back combined with an impossible determination to outrun Ember, now wheeling insolently above him.
After a while, I can feel something else entirely.
I gather up Ember, now more docile, and bring him down to the path. By the time we alight, Rosalind is already slipping from the saddle.
“You feel it too, don’t you?”
It’s not really a question. Rosalind nods anyway, her face taut with pain and concern. “It’s this way.” She points inland.
We bind the steeds with our minds to wait on the path. They snort and toss their heads, reluctant, as we head away from the path, pushing through the gorse, unheeding of the prickles. The feeling becomes stronger as we go forward. Pain, terror, sickness, loneliness. . . above all, pain. It’s unendurable.
A hand slips into mine. I look down, surprised, to meet Rosalind’s tear-filled gaze, mutely appealing to me for comfort. I squeeze her hand, hard, needing comfort just as much. The projected feelings are almost overwhelming. What’s worse is trying to imagine the cause. My mind fills with horror and my fingers clench and unclench on Rosalind’s smaller ones.
In the end, we nearly stumble over it, hidden in a depression in the gorge. A cloud of fairies sparkle up into the air around it as we approach, marking where it lies. An alicorn filly.
It’s been there a long time, I think. I don’t really know how to tell. What is obvious is that it doesn’t look good. There’s a terrible gash at the base of one
Similar Books
