I See Faeries

~chapter nine~

We Gallop Away

~

There was so much muscle rippling underneath me that it was a challenge to stay on his back - a problem I'd never experienced with a horse before. It hadn't been an issue when he was trotting, but at a gallop there was so much movement. He ran like the wind, whipping through the trees and leaving barely a trace of our passage behind, save for the pits his massive hooves gouged into the soil. I could only hang on as we blew up the rocky hillside and burst into the open field beyond the trees. Dean moved confidently, taking each step with the certainty of someone that knew exactly where their feet (or hooves) were carrying them. I felt unexpectedly safe.

I missed the very different feeling of Roman's presence, though. I'd made the mistake of looking back as I rode away. I still couldn't get the sight of him walking alone, back into that dark forest, out of my head. Up close he seemed tall and powerful, like he could do anything - destroy anything, and anyone. From a distance, though, he looked small and insignificant. He didn't seem strong enough to fight a demon. I'd seen pictures of them, in A Færye Gÿde and other books in the manor's ancient library. There were as many kinds of demons as there were humans, but I had a feeling that the one Roman was waiting for wasn't just some prepubescent troll. My regrettably vivid imagination conjured up images of fiery wraiths and nine foot tall ghouls with claws like knives and scaly skin thick enough to act as armor. Maybe the demon was a vampire, or a witch. Of course; not all witches were evil, and it's possible there might be a friendly vegetarian vampire out there somewhere. But all witches and vampires were demons, however friendly they might seem. My heart pounded with fear for the faerie.

Dean and I traveled uneventfully through the night, until sunlight started to show above the mountain peaks. It had finally stopped raining for the first time since I'd left the Goosefeather, and it was a relief to shake the water from my cloak and lower my hood.

"Let's stop for water," I suggested. I knew Dean had to be getting tired, despite his obvious strength. He flicked his ears to show he'd heard me, and started to slow his pace. He'd maintained a steady, fast gallop all night long and it took a few moments for him to adjust to walking speed. Finally, he stopped. We were in a small grove of trees at the edge of a grassy plain. To the left, a low ridge started to rise from the landscape, until it molded with the distant mountain. Straight ahead were the Hornfells.

I tried to dismount properly, but riding bareback for hours and hours had given me jelly legs. I half-slid over Dean's left shoulder and fell in a heap on the damp, leaf-covered ground. I stood with a groan, brushing myself off. "I think I'm permanently bow-legged now," I muttered, rubbing my inner thighs in an attempt to regain sensation in them. I unbuttoned my cloak and dropped my saddlebag from my back to the ground. The feeling of relief was instantaneous and wonderful.

Dean made a noise to get my attention, and jerked his head at the saddlebags on his back. I hobbled closer and pulled them off of him. An instant later, he was human again.

I was slowly getting used to the naked part of shifting, but it was still a small shock every time I saw it. I fixed my eyes on his face and did my best to pretend it wasn't there.

"Sorry Cass," he said, although he didn't sound especially apologetic. He took a step toward me, but I must've made a noise because he stopped. He looked like he was trying not to laugh at my discomfort. "Could you just . . . toss me some clothes?" He asked with a barely suppressed grin. "I'm afraid that if I come any closer, you might faint."

I glared at him and threw him one of the saddlebags. He dressed quickly, still smirking. When he was finally clothed again, I asked him why he'd called me Cass.