Justice by the Water
This is taken from myths of the water horses of Celtic origin. It's about the price paid for upsetting the balance. A warning for those who mar the wonders of love, and to those dragged through the mud by such people. I also wanted to write about someone's moment of death.
***WARNING*** Swearing and graphic death.
Also, humans are the main characters here, but what brings the story to its climax is an animal, so I hope it's enough fur for all you readers.
Comments are always welcome. Please, if you read, let me know what you think. Thanks so much for reading.
Justice by the Water
By: Tyvara
The water-horse of yore was a drowner and eater of man. So feared were they that conflicting legends abound as to their true nature. Some appear tame, and ready to ride; while others wear the stringy leaves of their watery homes, and torment the riders who dare to pass their land. Despite the controversy, they all share a common behavior: any who mounted a water-horse found themselves stuck, and after a wild ride, the horse would disappear into the water - rider and all.
*~*
Leesha giggled at the millions of flower petals thrust in her face. The smell was almost as enticing as the eager men that presented them. Each suitor called for her attention, their voices overlapping until they had not only drowned out themselves, but the sound of the afternoon bell in the clock tower. Trying to conceal her sinful glee, she fluttered her eyes and hid her smile behind her hand. Men were so easy to play.
Desire to keep her secret returned her composure. "Gentlemen, please." She held her palm across her heart. "This is all too much. Can't a lady go out for a walk without all this attention?" Not once did her smile waver; no harm came from letting them know their efforts pleased her.
"Oh, Miss Neccari." This one was new, and as such, his voice was lost amid her more experienced callers. His pleasant face appealed to her enough, but his offering of cheap wildflower blooms urged her lips to twitch in disgust. She molded her revolt into a sultry grin, turning her attention to the other bouquets in earnest.
The sight of each man interrupting the next with his own clamor for her favor - intoxicated her. Regardless, she'd deny them all eventually. Not a man on earth could woo her. Leesha preferred to do all the wooing. She needed to be in control.
"Miss Neccari." Now, his flowers were better. "Please do me the honor of allowing - me - to walk with you today." Still, not good enough. Who gives baby's-breath to a lover? A cheap bloom more suited for grandmothers and weddings, neither of which interested Leesha.
Courtesy demanded that she choose someone's flowers, but nothing offered here sparked any excitement. What sort of men were in this town? If every one of them took the prettiest flower from each of their hands, then it might come close to something fit to grace a vase in her home.
She settled for a lace-wrapped bundle with a few stargazer lilies and a narcissus. At least this would lend a sweet smell to her house for a few days. With both hands, she clutched her prize to her breast. "Why, Franklin, these stargazers are divine."
"Their shades of pink are like your pouting lips, Miss. No flower could dare outshine your beauty." She liked this one's poetry - not that she found it romantic in the least. Whenever she knew she'd share his company, she never failed to have a fan in hand to hide her faces of disgust. His flowers served that purpose now.
The allure of his sappy poetry existed only because of his fancy clothes, and needy eyes; they suited that of the wealthy, melancholy youth - the sort that squandered fortunes in their search for happiness. Leesha would be more than willing to help him with the squandering, so she flashed him a smile behind a swish of her tousled ringlets. "Just let me put these in water."
Her reward for appearing now chosen, she slipped behind the familiar walls of home, careful to flash the skin along the sloping collar of her blouse as she turned. No man could ignore the soft swells of her breasts in a corset this tight.
Happy once it was over, Leesha leaned against her door, letting the stress of all her acting fade with an exhale while she nuzzled her bouquet. The sounds of her suitors' squabbling outside soothed her - better than a mother's lullaby - and it served as a sweet accompaniment to the rich, earthen fragrance of the flowers.
*~*
So this is where that vixen of a woman went. Jerin knew she hadn't died while visiting an aunt. He doubted she had any relations at all. "Look at those fools," he grumbled to himself. His eyes, near slits while he glared from his hidden spot in the alleyway at the woman who broke his heart. "Waving those flowers at her like an ostentation of peacocks."
Jerin rolled his eyes with every flip of her blonde curls. She'd been far more becoming as a red head, but he doubted that was her true color. Nothing about the woman he'd known had been true. He wasn't even certain of her name. What was she calling herself now? He strained his ears to better hear the squawking suitors. Miss Neccari - Leesha Neccari. She might as well have a new name along with everything else.
It nauseated him to watch all the lovesick faces vying for just a look from those seductive sea-green eyes. Had he been that bad - that desperate? His lip curled from the flood of regrettable memories. He'd been worse. Jerin had devoted too much of his youth to titian beauty, and Leesha - he might as well call her that, because the woman he knew never existed - at the time, Leesha had fit that role well. Of all life's lesions, he'd learned more from his dealings with that deceiving debutante than he ever wanted. Her attentions had left his fortune just as shattered as his heart.
She didn't matter to him anymore. All he wanted was his mother's locket back. It belonged to a woman worthy of his love: someone who could love him back. To make matters worse, Jerin could see the silver orb around her neck. She had the gall to wear her ex-fiance's presents while she browsed for her next. Not like her suitors would be aware of that fact, but it was the principal of it. Even more proof of her callous cruelty.
Watching and thinking back, he wondered what about her convinced him to give up everything for a woman who never let him touch her. Maybe it was the desire to touch that kept him so invested. He'd been at that age where touch was so important.
The longer Jerin stared, the more he wanted to turn away. Yet, no force on earth could make him leave. He'd bear the role of the tortured specter, cursed to watch his actions repeated for eternity, if that's what it meant. But how long did she intend to keep this farce up? She played these men exactly as she had him and his townsmen. All those fake smiles made him cringe; he knew them all too well.
Once she'd gone back into her house, Jerin sighed while he removed his hat to run a hand through his hair. Sweat clung to his fingers, and he stared at the wet streaks until they evaporated in the warm, noonday air. He shook his head and returned his hat. Despite everything she could still get him worked up - granted the emotion had soured, but she wielded a power that escaped no man. He slumped to the ground, exhausted from all his hate-filled scowling. After a few lung-fulls of fresh air, he became a little more aware of the moment. Refreshed, now that the object of his spite had left.
The suitors remained, milling about the front yard, hopeful for Leesha's return. If her past behavior was any indication then she had no intention of coming out. It would take the silence of dusk to lure her beyond those walls, when most were home and sated from the evening's meal.
Safe in that knowledge, Jerin adjusted himself against the stone at his back and underneath. With the brim of his hat pulled low across his eyes, he rested, his palms across his stomach. It'd be a few hours before dusk, and if he stayed put long enough, he could probably gauge the local law. Leesha was seldom far from their influence.
It wasn't long before conversations wafted within his hearing. Plenty of perks came with looking like a vagrant, one he'd put to use now, as he slowed his breathing to overhear the young voices that neared him.
"Frank, you lucky sod. How'd you charm Miss Neccari into taking your stinky pink flowers?"
The voice crossed the alleyway Jerin waited in, followed by the many clacks of shoes along the stone streets. He peaked his hat until he could see the tails of shirt coats just beyond him while he listened.
"It's no mystery, really. When you buy flowers for a woman, the trick is to keep her in mind. You can't be frugal when sweeping a lady off her feet."
"Seriously, Donovan," another voice added. "The only woman you'll get with that load of wildflowers is your mommy."
The group of men laughed, and one of them shoved the insulter. "Shut up." Jerin tipped his hat for a better look. "These aren't wildflowers; these are the rarest flowers in the area." Donovan was dressed as badly as he assumed the flowers looked - which wasn't good, and primarily threadbare.
"Yeah," Frank said, "And where'd you go to get these rare flowers?" Donovan made no response and Frank continued, "That's why they call them wild-flowers. You kids have so much to learn."
Jerin scoffed under his breath. He could agree with that statement. The group lingered beyond the alleyway, while Frank slouched against the building and kicked his foot back against the bricks. This one acted way too familiar for his tastes - too much like himself.
"Women are an interesting breed. They prefer flashy things and kind words. Did you really think a fancy, porcelain doll like, Miss Neccari, is going to recognize that you put thought into a bunch of weeds you dug up beside some tree?"
"They aren't ugly flowers."
"No, but what did it cost?" Frank sprang from the wall, to tap Donovan across his chest. "All your good intentions are useless to a pampered lovely. Learn what a respectable lady really cares about, and you'll find one at your side soon enough." Frank threw his arm around Donovan's shoulder and led the group away. "I wouldn't bet on Miss Neccari, though. My guess is she's the type of lady who wants more than what a record keeper's son could offer."
The talk continued, but the voices soon moved beyond his hearing. Frank was wrong. Leesha was the type of woman who'd play a man like Frank for his fortune, while she wooed Donovan on the side. She always behaved as if she were a discerning, reputable woman. It wouldn't be until some grand catastrophe happened - with her long gone - before her secrets trickled into the open. He'd been through those towns in his search for her, and seen the damage she'd wrought.
Jerin slid his attention back to the house where he could see a faint shadow in the window, peeping in the direction the men had gone. He shook his head. She hadn't changed at all.
*~*
Before a gilded, oval mirror in her bedchamber, Leesha tossed black locks from cheek to cheek. She loved wigs. It amazed her how freeing each one was, like a brand-new person lay contained within each silky strand. The sharp angles of the cut accentuated her bone structure so well that she promised herself to wear the style more often.
Maybe in her next town she should be a dairymaid. She bet she could play a rich man at a game of 'rescue the maid'. Men were suckers for that whole 'save the beautiful girl' routine, and she could play a dumb farm girl well enough. The thought of it all excited her; a dairymaid with short hair might really stand out - especially if she played the part.
Leesha wasn't opposed to the work that came with cow milking. Wooing men out of every treasure was work all by itself. At least working udders would keep her hands soft, and that was worth more to her than anything. Just that flash of damaging any of her beauty disturbed her so much that she searched her mind for a distraction. Posing served as the needed distraction, and she flirted with the imaginary men she'd win over while she twirled. Viewing her perfection at every angle sent her mind wild with new personas. So many men, and so much wealth ley hidden out in that great world. All her beauty was wasted on one man, and she wasn't about to waste any of her precious time.
After another toss of her hair, a light caught her in the eye, drawing her attention to the silver pendent around her neck. She plucked up the orb and brought it closer for better viewing. Of all her possessions, this simple, silver locket represented the pinnacle of all her hard work.
Leesha giggled while she opened it, unfolding until seven disks spread out in accordion fashion. Instead of pictures, each housed a piece of different flowers: one from each man who'd given his heart to her. A petal from the proposal bouquets of five men - for the fortunes of five men, given of their own will. To see her accomplishments in front of her got her giddy. After two more, it'd be filled, and then she could start over again.
Wait, she'd almost forgotten - the locket was her first man. So then, she'd had six. Mistakes had been made on that experiment, but he was as much history as all the others. She couldn't even remember his name - not as if she cared to - his name wasn't important anymore.
Once she glanced out the window, the russet sky reminded her that she still wanted to take a walk before the night's cold arrived. On her way to the back door, she tossed a shawl around her shoulders then pressed herself to the peephole. All appeared quiet beyond the darkened circle that served as her view of the alleyway. Without wasting any more time, Leesha slipped outside. After the familiar clink of her lock, and a quick glance about her, she headed into the alley toward her usual walking path.
The tap of her shoes echoed amid the tall buildings, following her until the sensation of eyes at her back caused her to stop. In one swift motion, Leesha spun around to face the dingy eyes of a drifter. He glared at her, while the musky smell of unwashed flesh infiltrated her nose. "Get outta here, you!" she growled. "I got nothin' for the likes a you. Miss Neccari don't pay me much, n' I got errands to run."
He chuckled. "I know who you are, so you can just drop the act. You won't fool me anymore."
Her heart leapt into her throat. That voice was so familiar. Where had she heard it before? A quick filter through her memory refreshed nothing. How could he know anything? He couldn't - unless - a flash of recognition washed over her. She returned his glare, confident in her control. "I won't be foolin' anyone if I don't finish Miss Neccari's errands before the night's out." Leesha wondered how long she could pretend to have forgotten him. Nothing irked a rich man more than to be forgotten.
Jerin's face twisted into a grimace. "Nock it off. I want my locket back."
She couldn't have gotten a better reunion gift. Glad in her foresight in grabbing the shawl that now concealed the silver pendent. "I don't have no trinkets, or time to waste on you." She punctuated her defiance with an added hand to her hip.
He grabbed her arm and gripped tight. "You played me once." He shook her hard, the force tossed her head upward where she met his dark stare. "I can guarantee it won't happen again."
His eyes were cold - had they always been so cold? His hold around her arm burned with such vicelike ferocity that she knew she'd be marred by a bruise in the morning. Terrified at enduring further damage, Leesha stared back at Jerin as a bead of sweat trickled down her brow. "Please, I don't have anything for you."
When he pushed her from him she stumbled backward. "You really think I believe you? You're pathetic. Just give me what I want, and I'll leave."
Pathetic? She wasn't the one asking for a present back. "Nothing of mine belongs to you." Leesha dug her heels into the dirt, crossing her arms while she eyed mental daggers at her old mark.
"That locket stopped being yours when you faked your death." He jabbed an accusatory finger at her.
"Oh she died all right." She flashed him a wicked smile while she reminisced. "Tumbled partway down a ravine. I'm sure some birds made a lovely nest of her remains."
"Shut up! I know who you are, and all your secrets. I've met every man you've destroyed since me."
Leesha cackled. "You don't know anything. You're a formerly rich fool, who's befriended other fools. You can't even begin to fathom the sort of person I am." Without affording Jerin a chance to continue, Leesha let out a bloodcurdling scream, and ran full force into him.
He stumbled, but pushed back. "What the hell?" His arms struggled to grab her, but she flailed while she crushed all her weight against him. "You're fucking crazy!" She screamed again while he fought her; it better covered his angry shouts. "Get off me, you psycho cow!"
Fueled by his insults Leesha persisted, kicking and shoving while she clawed at his face, until a stronger force pulled Jerin from her arms. "You okay, Miss?" His words carried over Jerin's protests.
Leesha burst into tears. "Oh, officer, you've saved my life! Who knows what this brute'd do to a poor servant like me." She hid her face in her hands, secure knowing that Jerin couldn't break away from a lawman that big. Between her fingers she could see he tried nevertheless.
"No worries, Miss. I'll put this unsightly fellow where he belongs. You just run along with your errands, and don't go tellin' your lady about this. I wouldn't want to worry her. We do our best to keep filth like this off the streets."
Mindful of how Jerin struggled against the monestrous bulk of enforcer, Leesha nodded her understanding. "Thank you so much. I'll be on my way now." She scurried back onto her familiar path, not bothering a glance back. Only slowing when she'd traveled a ways into the forest path, and the sound of the town's clock tower subtly carried over the tops of the trees.
That tussle certainly wasn't her idea of getting some air before bed. In an attempt to calm herself, she let her eyes wander. The sun now nestled itself among the trees, sending the sky deeper shades of burnt orange. Surrounded by the hum of nature and all it's tranquility, helped turn Leesha's mind inward, but that held less peace.
Pathetic! That lowlife called her pathetic. She had the power of six men. What did he have? A night in a prison cell that's what. Looser. How dare he come here and ruin her night. Now she'd have to walk twice as far just to calm down. Her life had been full of accomplishments while he'd wasted his time wandering the countryside pining for a piece of silver.
Really he didn't have anything to be upset over. She'd done nothing more than any other woman would have. He should be grateful his wealth went to such a gorgeous sample of feminine beauty. That was the way of things, and he should be honored he could learn from her - he could have been stuck with some of the trolls in his home town. There's nothing to boast if you loose it all to rejected mongers.
It'd been her fortune that she'd took to the trade so well. Without men's foolish generosity and her mother's tutelage, she'd probably be as hopelessly destitute as her lovers' tended to find themselves. Leesha shook her head. She couldn't bear the thought of herself all smelly, covered in dingy rags, sleeping on dirt under an open sky. Angry that some old flame could remind her of things she'd abandoned, she walked faster. That bastard. He had no right to come back after all this time and ask for something she'd grown attached to.
It wasn't until she kicked a dust cloud in front of her path that she realized how stiff she stalked through the woods. The tenseness in her jaw came to her attention next, then her brow - and her fear of wrinkles forced her into a halt. She took in a few deep breaths until the anger began to ebb, and she opened her eyes to continue her walk.
None of that mattered anymore; he was below her concern. That lawman would see to it that he never bothered her again. She should focus on her future, and leave the past alone. Frank and his friends deserved her attention - that's where the prospects waited, carrying with it the grandness of her imagination. All the wonder ahead of her gave Leesha a lighter sway to her steps.
Distracted, she wandered until she came to a part of the path she'd not yet traveled, and the tree's branches hung low enough to force her to duck occasionally. She continued until a crunching sound forced her into a frightened stop. Curiosity took her toward the trees, and she kept her back to their trunks as she listened.
A soft whinny washed away her apprehension.
Eager to see the owner, Leesha creped from her hiding spot. The tree cover broke from the path and opened to a wide lake, its bank washed with reeds and the grass alongside glistened gold in the setting sun. Munching, stood a stunning grey stallion, his short tail curled high over his backside and across his thigh. Oblivious of her, he continuing to nicker his delight in between mouthfuls.
Such a beautiful horse - all alone - saddled in white leather, bridled with the same, picture-perfect amid the colors of the setting sun across the water. Emboldened by the scenery, Leesha stepped from the trees. She didn't want to frighten him, but when he glanced back at her and continued to enjoy his earthen delights without so much as a side step, Leesha held out her hand to touch his neck. Horse musk filled her senses when she neared him, and as her hand fell against him, he leaned into her fingers, his coat soft and short as a newborn foal.
What was such a lovely creature doing all dressed up with nowhere to go? She tugged his bridle, and its pliable softness confirmed its youth, the saddle too was well cared for and showed signs of daily oil treatments. It made no sense for anyone to leave something worth so much unattended.
Wouldn't it be grand if the owner was some fine, wealthy gentleman heartbroken over the disappearance of one of his prized beasts? She could return it and he'd be so besotted with her that he'd whisk her away on a whirlwind romance - or some such thing that smitten men tend to do. Chances were slim that a woman owned the horse; few pampered elitists had the gall to ride a stallion - only a man would ride one.
Imagine her fortune should the horse belong to no one. A chill of excitement ran the length of her. Even if she never sold him, he'd be a fine breeder. Perhaps she'd try her hand at raising horses. There was quite a bit of mystery in a lady horse breeder, especially one as attractive as she'd be. It wouldn't do to get her hopes up too high; chances were low anyone would let a stallion this stunning just walk away saddled so fine. She wasn't aware of anyone from town who owned a horse like this, otherwise they'd have shown it off to her. A man can't resist prancing around on a fine steed, especially if there's a lovely damsel to woo.
The contented horse sounds continued without any acknowledgment of her presence. It wouldn't surprise her if he had a stubborn streak, he had no problems ignoring her. If someone did own him, and they were foolish enough to just let him wander off, then maybe she could still return it, and seduce the horse from him as her reward. She'd done similarly before. But how should she bring him into town? She certainly wasn't strong enough to pull him should he put up a fight. Control lay in riding him.
Leesha geared herself to mount, checking his ears, noting their forward position, and relaxing at his ease. For a moment, while her hands rested on either side of the saddle, Leesha paused. Years of trained propriety had taught her the shame of riding astride, but she was dressed as a servant - no one should care even if someone did see her bringing the horse into town. She shook off her moment of hesitation and lifted herself into place.
Atop the horse, the world had a different view. The lake reflected an obscured sky starrified by a few jeweled flecks amid the last orange-haze of sunset. Leesha took up the reigns and patted the horse's neck as he brought it upright. He cast a glance back at her, and for a second, he looked - pleased! It passed as his eyes began to roll. The lids fell back exposing veined, red skin while his mouth hung agape, his tongue lolling over the gaps between his flat teeth.
Her heart raced - something was wrong - she had to get off! A tug of her leg to kick it over resulted in resistance. Her flesh rippled with a thousand icy crawlies. This wasn't right. She pulled again, but nothing. She pushed against the saddle, but her skirts snagged around the ankles. Her eyes snapped to the sickening horse, his body stiff with ears facing outwards as spittle bubbled around his tongue.
He just stood there, writhing in silence while she kicked, an action that did nothing but wrap her legs to the horse's sides. Every inch of her wanted to scream, but short gasps replaced the desired sound. In a panic she tore at her clothes, but there was too much fabric and her clammy fingers slipped along the seams.
In one motion the horse reared, and Leesha threw her arms around the beast's neck as he let out a brassish neigh. The sound ran through her ears, vibrating her skull and the world until she snapped her eyes closed. Blinded, she held on tight as the horse took off in a crazed gallop.
His speed kept her brain in a repetitive loop of the words fast - too fast. The rapid sound of his hoof-beats pounding in her ears set the pace for her heart. When he kicked, she screamed and gripped tighter, realizing she'd dropped the reins.
She had to get this horse under control before he tossed her off or ran into something. A sharp sting at her arms forced her to look and see the leather reins whipping her. Another scream, both of fear and determination, helped her let go of the horse with one hand to grip the snapping leather. Without a second thought she grabbed with the other.
In one push she sat upright and pulled back hard. Her head swam. The reins weren't attached to the bit. She couldn't control him.
Another deathly neigh shook her, and he jumped high. The world changed, and she saw everything: The setting sun fading into night, the dense trees - her eyes above their tips, the lake below churning like a frothing sea. Her body lifted higher, launching into the sky. For a moment she was free, until the tug at her legs pulled her to the saddle once again.
Back toward earth they fell, her body as far back as she could lean to brace the landing. When they hit the ground, the force rattled her bones.
The horse tossed his head, wild and random, as he spun and bucked. Each motion threw her only to slam her back into the saddle again.
With nothing else to hang onto, she clutched the reigns with hands whiter than the leather in them. Unable to tell where they went, the horse crashed into whatever happened to be in the way. Trees tore at her clothes, but only enough to sting her flesh.
Another bolt into the air sent her reeling, and when they landed hard to the side, her right arm tingled pins and needles. She shook it, but rigid, it refused, now clutched in a cadaverous grip of the reigns. No force could contain her screams as her mind furiously commanded her arm to release with no hint of response save tingling numbness.
The horse spun, his body seesawing while he neared closer to the lake.
"Not that way!" she screamed and pulled the useless reins with her viable hand. "Please, back!"
He took a few wobbly steps backward, but just when she thought he'd finally heard her through his fevered state, he whipped his head to either side. On the last, their eyes met, and for a second that look twinkled in his eye: she saw his pleasure in her terror. A whinny passed his lips, but the sound had an echo of laughter. After another couple of back-steps, his muscles tensed, and he bolted again, plunging headfirst into the lake.
Cold water blasted her face, knocking out the last of her breath. Bubbles and murky water clouded her eyes. She struggled against the saddle, but it was useless.
The horse pulled her down deeper. Plant-life slashed at her. She looked up to see only darkness. Her mouth opened to cry out, but that filled her lungs with water. She tried to spit it away, yet that pulled in more. Water filled her nose, her eyes - all amid the downward descent - until she swelled with it.
She'd burst any second. She needed air. One breath, one sweet sent of sky, but water was all that came.
Her heart ached as her chest swelled. Why had she gotten on the horse? Too much water. Why did she have to control everything? The air was gone - all gone. Why didn't she see the deviousness in his eyes before this? Water down the ears, in the skull, every cavity swimming with it. Why couldn't she have lived out her life in peace?
Deeper he took her, each kick of his legs dragged her through cold blackness. She couldn't go on much longer. Too much water - so much cold. Her moment had come, that thought that lurks in the back of the mind - that was now. She'd never wanted it to end like this. She'd been too cocky. Why did she have to take things so far? It was too late now. Everything she'd done in life had been for nothing. There were no men to save her. It was all over. This was it. She was -
*~*
Jerin had seen it all. He'd been not far behind after clocking that lug of an enforcer square across the head. Luck saw that the man fell over unconscious, and Jerin scrambled after that devilish woman. When he caught up to her, he found her stroking a saddled, grey stallion. From the bushes he watched her clamber onto his back and stared in horror as the horse went mad. He couldn't tare his eyes away from it, even once the horse dragged her into the lake, his eyes remained glued to the water as it churned, slowly dying until a calm spread over the surface, mirroring the speckled sky with its stillness.
Not a single sound escaped across the clearing. No breeze jostled the trees. Only silence, and an eerie, false peace.
What had he seen? Had he really watched his ex-fiancé mount a water horse and disappear into the lake?
Time passed, but Jerin couldn't move. He wanted to run, but his legs mocked him with their stillness. He'd come so far, only to watch her drown by another's hand. A part of him wanted to know what became of her.
After what felt like hours, a ring began to ripple once again, and the horse burst through the surface on the far side, sending spray around him like a fountain. He shook his body, and Jerin saw a limp form dragging alongside him. Her arm had spun backwards, pulling down on the reigns while her lifeless body trailed a wet furrow through the verdant shoreline.
When the creature let out another of his otherworldly, metallic neighs, their eyes met. They stared across the banks for an eternity that ended when he reared, tossing his head and swinging his drowned prize onto his back. A lick of blue flame flashed at his hooves, it swirled around them until they were enveloped in a fiery ball of blue. After a quick burst of light they dissolved into the darkness.
Spots danced in Jerin's eyes, and when his sight returned, the lake was quiet once again - devoid of any trace of the night's events. His body shook, and he tasted sweat at his lip.
With a look to the sky, the moon shone full, dwarfing the twinkle of stars. When he brought his sights back to the lake, a sparkle in the grassy shore caught his eye. Jerin stood despite the protest of his legs and walked toward the glimmer. Once he reached it, his knees buckled and he fell to the ground.
Between his legs was his mother's locket.
Trembling hands reached for the silver bauble, and he clutched it in his palms. Still warm from her flesh, he opened it releasing smoke trails while ashes spilled to the grass. He dropped it, and the smoke faded. It was cold when he touched it again. Jerin took his time examining every familiar detail to confirm its identity, unaware of his surroundings until a gentle splash caused him to glance at the lake.
The horse's head floated near the shore. His eyes watched him, the lids suggesting he waited for something.
Jerin's jaw quaked, but he spoke nonetheless, "I wanted this for so long." He held the locket to his chest. "Could I take it back now?"
A bubbled whinny followed by a flick of his ears ended in silence. Jerin hoped that was a yes.
When he stood, the creature's gaze followed him. He backed away slow. He'd seen all he needed to. Eyes still watched while he retreated, only submerging once he'd passed the tree-line.
Without another look, Jerin dashed back to town. He didn't stop until he was well within the rows of mortared homes - back where things felt real. Against the cool bricks he grounded himself, allowing his mind to grasp what he'd witnessed. Had it been a dream? The lump in his hand told him otherwise.
She was gone - really dead. All that time thinking she'd died and now she was. He'd never wanted that, but she sealed her own fate. Perhaps in her death she experienced some of what he'd felt. Losing her had been like drowning.
Jerin pushed himself from the ground. He'd mourned over her enough. Besides, there was a freshly abandoned house to raid, and he knew a few men who'd be eager to share the spoils.
The End