The Fault In Reality

Chapter Nineteen

Someone is shaking out the skies.

At least that's what it sounds like. Thunder has been grumbling occasionally throughout the day, but now it rattles through the clouds without pause. Lightning teases the edges of my vision, disappearing between one blink of an eye and the next, while rain has picked up a steady, drumming beat against the ground, raising that special sweet smell that comes from water on sun-baked earth.

I'm curled up around a mug of tea and a good book, relaxed at the sound of the storm outside. I nibble at a few squares of chocolate. Pat and my father are out doing some shopping. Chase is at a friend's house. I stretch contentedly, pleased to have the place to myself.

Then I hear it. A high, terrified squeal cutting through the baritone of the storm. I drop my book and go to the rain streaked window. Outside, Devany is pacing in his corral. Though he's got a small shelter set into the corner, he doesn't use it. Lightning forks over the bruised clouds in a sudden wash of purple. Devany rears up, mane flying with sopping tendrils. He uses his momentum to throw himself forward, straight at the fence of the corral.

I tell myself he won't do it. But my own disbelief is contradicted as his black form curves, up and over. Mud explodes from the impact of his landing. My voice comes back to me in a rush.

"Devany!" I cry. Just then the thunder reaches a more menacing volume. Devany freezes, quivering. The sky holds its breath. Even the rain has sunken away into a drizzle.

Lightning ignites across the sky. Devany bolts, streaking away behind the barn. My legs move faster than my mind. I snatch an old rain coat from the closet and thrust my feet into some boots. The porch door slams behind me in a gust of wind while I struggle across the squelching grass.

Devany is long gone by the time I reach his corral, but there's a trail of hoofprints pressed into the mud, leading across the back pasture. I hurry to follow it, pausing only to grab a lead rope and halter.

Wind blows hard against me, whistling past my ears, seeming intent on making my progress slow and sluggish. I duck my head and squint against the rain, looking over the rise of a distant hill to the beginnings of a forest.

It occurs to me I should have left a note, or called my father. The only thing that stops me from turning back and doing just that is the faint hope that Devany will stop to graze somewhere close by, as is typical with many horses.

But Devany is hardly typical.

I enter the forest apprehensively, using the hoofprints as my guide. Here they grow fainter, finding less purchase in the pine needle bed than the damp grass. Gnarled tree trunks rise up on either side of me, looking distinctly ominous.

"Devany?" I call. Another crackle of thunder sounds overhead.

I pick up my pace, settling into a slow jog. Fear prickles at the back of my neck. I try not to dwell on it, but instead arrange a rambling spewl of sweet-nothings I'll use to calm Devany when I find him.

I will find him.

Suddenly something snaps behind me. I whirl to face it, only to come up empty. Relax, I tell myself. The hoofprints are getting progressively fainter, which cheers me because I take it to mean Devany has slowed his pace.

I cut through a cluster of trees and -

"- Devany!"

The black horse stands slumped under the canopy of an old pine tree. He raises his head and nickers at me, eyes wide with the memory of fear.

"Silly boy," I murmur, approaching him slowly, "scared of a bit of lightning, are you?"

He tosses his head and stomps at the ground, as though he understands my words and is taking offense. I laugh shakily and bring the halter up over his ears.