The mare begins to stamp and toss her mane. I try to will her hoof into his skull but I cannot, the gentleness of his voice stays with me. Instead I leave, flitting back over the rough grass, tearing through the hedge that rips my skin, lifting the bucket and slamming it into the bruises it has left on my leg as I run to the well.

Clouds heave and flex, lightning splits the air and rain falls fat and cold. And I’m glad of it, glad of the pounding thunder and black skies and wet clothes that chill me through. Soon it will be all I can feel.

Sound of the Storm

Daniel waited as her words settled into him, the realisation of who she was and why she had come. She was the witch-girl. The Devil-boy’s sister. He stood, the mare shifting at his side, as the sky above darkened and then split with lightning. Was this her work? Was this a warning?

He watched her go, both relieved that she left and immediately wishing her back. She had come only to harm him, surely. And yet. Her smile, so soothing, and given solely for him. Like a warm hearth, the comfort of which he could not resist. Her absence left him chilled.

Her words slithered round his head. Voice sweet and clear as a spring raindrop, pretty little face full of light. He could not find the night in her. Those eyes. Every colour of the sea in there.

It was witchcraft that made her appear so, for sure.

Bewitched. The word carried a weight she must have been aware of. To let him know who she was, to demonstrate the power of their unhallowed ways. To remind him of the punishment that was his due. He wished that she had cursed him, and he now writhed in whatever suffering was his due. He could not bear the waiting, the fear of the inevitable torment to come.

Daniel turned and vomited on the grass, just missing the mare’s hind leg. She did not flinch, leaning into him when another blast of lightning ripped through the clouds above them.

He led her to the barn. Still shaky, the ground heaving under his boots. The mare followed willingly. Father and Gabriel sat in the corner, drinking ale and eating bread and cold eggs, while rain hammered the roof.

Father pointed to the horse. ‘What’s this?’

‘Tamed the mare.’

Daniel was certain an expression of satisfaction flickered across Father’s face. He would be judging his son’s achievement by its weight in coins. ‘Stable her, then,’ he said.

As Daniel moved away, Gabriel spoke around the bread he chewed, ‘Could’ve broken that horse myself.’