Chapter 16 - Nick

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Our family send our deepest condolences for all lives that were lost in Laneby, especially those close to your heart. Such a blessing the Virtues were guarding your nephew's young soul.


So far Sundale had been largely underwhelming. Sure, the capital had streets longer than all of the streets in Laneby combined, with real shops that sold hundreds of books ready to be devoured, but Captain Jonathan had decided that the best place for Nick to remain while he found out about Abby's whereabouts was the enormous stable.

He wasn't mad per se, but it all seemed to take long. Too long. He had walked back and forth through six out of the seven corridors of the stable but still hadn't found Billy.

He barely wanted to think about the possibility that Seb had failed, so he stood on his tiptoes and peeked into yet another fourteen-by-fourteen foot box: a flea-bitten stallion with a pointy snout snorted, his ears all flat.

Nick immediately took a step back. "Sorry, didn't mean to disturb you."

A happy neigh came out of the opposite box. Through the bars peeped a buckskin mare with mischievous eyes.

"Do you know if my horse is here, somewhere?" Nick stroked her forehead. "He's all white with a long fluffy tail, and he's a bit weird. Too smart for his own good, but people say that about me too."

The mare neighed, sniffing his hand.

"Oh, who am I kidding? You're just a horse looking for food. You can't help me either."

"I know whe'e ya beastie is, al'ight." A male voice with a thick accent proclaimed. Its owner was a shabby looking man with greasy grey hair that fell on his shoulders. Four flies swarmed around him, with a fifth landing on his head. "One of the Se'jeants b'ought em in the day befo'e yeste'day—told em to put em all the way in the back, close to meh shed. Didn't like it one bit when I locked the door so I kept it open."

"Gods bless you." That did sound like something Billy would do. Nick ran through the corridor, towards the light of the meadow outside. And if Billy was here, then Seb and Abby had made it to Sundale as well.

A skinny boy in brown overalls came out of a log-wooden building, carrying an iron bucket full of carrots. If that was the shed, then one of these boxes had to be Billy's.

Nick jumped up—the pitch black mare who was munching on straw definitely wasn't Billy—then rushed to the other side, finding a cross-eyed stallion pushing out fresh balls of manure.

"Ow... Carry on. Don't look at me."

He dashed to the box next to the pooping horse. Instantly, a strange kind of feeling crept over him. There he was, his favourite stallion: just as white and with that characteristic fluffy tail of his. But he wasn't the same Billy that had left Laneby. There was something about him; a certain sadness.

"I'm here, boy." Nick opened the door and went in, almost trampling a bunch of half-eaten apple peels. "Did you miss me?"

The horse whimpered as Nick ran his hand through his mane, his droopy face staring at the ground.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Nick patted his neck, but Billy shrugged in reply; not violently, but with enough power to push him to the wall. The horse turned around. Suddenly the heap of hay in the corner of his box seemed more important than him.

Nick gulped down the thick lump that had formed in his throat. Never before had Billy refused him, and the rejection struck him right in the heart. What had Seb done to him?

"Ain't ya fault, kiddo." The shabby-looking man now stood right behind him, leaning on his pitchfork. "Haven't seen many Sco'ian halfb'eeds suffe'ing f'om the blues, but that's one fo' ya. The Se'jeant told me he came f'om the Plains."

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