attention to finding a good place to keep watch.
It only took her a few minutes to find three spindly pine trees growing so close together that their trunks almost touched, with a tangle of autumn-crisped ferns in front of them. With the solidity of the trunks at her back and the ferns screening her, she still had a good view of the pond. Jess made herself as comfortable as possible, and settled down to wait.
It was difficult not to daydream when you’d been sitting against atree for… however long she’d been here. It felt like months, but the light told her it couldn’t yet be much past noon. Jess had let her mind stray to Magnus for a while. Not that there was much to think about if she considered it properly: a couple of dances, some smiles, a few visits to Westgarth. Not a word, much less an arm round her waist, or a kiss. It was probably all imagination; it was her gran’s fault really, she’d put the idea in Jess’s head.
Jess got stiffly to her feet, more than ready for a break. In fact, as she eased her cramped legs and shifted the satchel strap on her shoulder, she wondered if she should just go home. The whole thing seemed faintly ridiculous now; she was nearly ready to believe it was no more than an old wives’ tale.
And then…
There was no sound. No splash of water or crack of twig, no sign at all. And yet, Jess knew, though her back was to the pool, that the horse was there.
As she turned, she tried to convince herself that it was her imagination at work, but she already knew somewhere deep in her heart that it wasn’t.
The horse stood at the edge of the pool, watching her.
Jess froze, poised for flight, balanced on the edge of fate, as the horse studied her with those too-blue eyes, and she studied it in turn.
She could run. She could probably lose the water horse where the trees crowded together. She could run.
But she didn’t. She stood quite still, her heart beating painfully hard, as the horse’s gaze settled on her face.
Jess moved forward slowly, almost without thought, one hand sliding into the satchel to check the halter. A few paces from the water horse she stopped, and time ran slow as they stared at each other.
The horse shook its head gently and moved slowly towards her. Almost against her will, Jess stretched out a hand and the horse nuzzled her palm. She felt its warm breath, the impossible softness of its muzzle.
Jess slid her hand up over its cheek and down to the strong neck. Her mind was a blank. Why was she here? There had been some reason, something important, but she couldn’t remember what it had been. It didn’t matter now anyway.
Her body leaned in towards the horse’s flank of its own volition, and then she was no longer on the ground at all, but on the horse’s broad back.
Jess took a gasping breath and came out of whatever trance she had been in. Terrified now, she tried to slide down from the horse’s back, but her legs were clamped to its flanks and she couldn’t budge them, however she tried.
“No!” she yelled, panic stricken. “Let me down. Stop!” But the horse was turning now, towards the water.
Her arms were still her own to move. Shouting all the time, Jess hit the horse on the neck as hard as she could, tried to reach forward to its head, but couldn’t.
Water rose around the black hooves as the horse picked its way with an odd delicacy into the pond.
Jess flailed wildly, trying to pull herself free, not thinking at all now, blind with panic. Her right hand closed on something. Thorns bit into her flesh. She gasped with pain, and with the pain came clarity.
The halter.
That was what she had to do. It came back to her as water touched her legs, began to climb up her skirts.
Desperately she pulled the halter from the satchel, kept tight hold of one end with her right hand as she let the other end dangle and reached under the horse’s neck to catch it with her left.
The water had risen to her thighs now. The Kelpie was almost in
It only took her a few minutes to find three spindly pine trees growing so close together that their trunks almost touched, with a tangle of autumn-crisped ferns in front of them. With the solidity of the trunks at her back and the ferns screening her, she still had a good view of the pond. Jess made herself as comfortable as possible, and settled down to wait.
It was difficult not to daydream when you’d been sitting against atree for… however long she’d been here. It felt like months, but the light told her it couldn’t yet be much past noon. Jess had let her mind stray to Magnus for a while. Not that there was much to think about if she considered it properly: a couple of dances, some smiles, a few visits to Westgarth. Not a word, much less an arm round her waist, or a kiss. It was probably all imagination; it was her gran’s fault really, she’d put the idea in Jess’s head.
Jess got stiffly to her feet, more than ready for a break. In fact, as she eased her cramped legs and shifted the satchel strap on her shoulder, she wondered if she should just go home. The whole thing seemed faintly ridiculous now; she was nearly ready to believe it was no more than an old wives’ tale.
And then…
There was no sound. No splash of water or crack of twig, no sign at all. And yet, Jess knew, though her back was to the pool, that the horse was there.
As she turned, she tried to convince herself that it was her imagination at work, but she already knew somewhere deep in her heart that it wasn’t.
The horse stood at the edge of the pool, watching her.
Jess froze, poised for flight, balanced on the edge of fate, as the horse studied her with those too-blue eyes, and she studied it in turn.
She could run. She could probably lose the water horse where the trees crowded together. She could run.
But she didn’t. She stood quite still, her heart beating painfully hard, as the horse’s gaze settled on her face.
Jess moved forward slowly, almost without thought, one hand sliding into the satchel to check the halter. A few paces from the water horse she stopped, and time ran slow as they stared at each other.
The horse shook its head gently and moved slowly towards her. Almost against her will, Jess stretched out a hand and the horse nuzzled her palm. She felt its warm breath, the impossible softness of its muzzle.
Jess slid her hand up over its cheek and down to the strong neck. Her mind was a blank. Why was she here? There had been some reason, something important, but she couldn’t remember what it had been. It didn’t matter now anyway.
Her body leaned in towards the horse’s flank of its own volition, and then she was no longer on the ground at all, but on the horse’s broad back.
Jess took a gasping breath and came out of whatever trance she had been in. Terrified now, she tried to slide down from the horse’s back, but her legs were clamped to its flanks and she couldn’t budge them, however she tried.
“No!” she yelled, panic stricken. “Let me down. Stop!” But the horse was turning now, towards the water.
Her arms were still her own to move. Shouting all the time, Jess hit the horse on the neck as hard as she could, tried to reach forward to its head, but couldn’t.
Water rose around the black hooves as the horse picked its way with an odd delicacy into the pond.
Jess flailed wildly, trying to pull herself free, not thinking at all now, blind with panic. Her right hand closed on something. Thorns bit into her flesh. She gasped with pain, and with the pain came clarity.
The halter.
That was what she had to do. It came back to her as water touched her legs, began to climb up her skirts.
Desperately she pulled the halter from the satchel, kept tight hold of one end with her right hand as she let the other end dangle and reached under the horse’s neck to catch it with her left.
The water had risen to her thighs now. The Kelpie was almost in
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