He climbed onto the horse’s back, and Sorcha, using a fallen tree as a step, sat behind him, the rough fabric of her dress bunched up around her. Riding a horse very nearly atop its hind legs would not be terribly comfortable for her. He hoped, for her sake, this proved a gentle ride. She wrapped her arms around his middle. He took hold of the damp hair of the horse’s mane, the only thing available to him. Not merely wet, the mane contained bits of seaweed.

Duncan pulled out a piece and, keeping hold of the mane with his other hand, held the seaweed up for Sorcha to see. “I’ve never known a horse to collect this in its mane.”

“Seaweed!” she gasped. “It’s the kelpie.”

The kelpie. She’d said that was the most dangerous of the monsters appearing in the form of a horse.

Something about the feel of the creature beneath him began to change. It softened and grew more enveloping, almost as if he were sinking into it.

“Tell me what to do,” he said.

“It will become sticky, making escape impossible. It will ride with us directly back to whatever loch it lives in and drown us in the depths.”

The kelpie bolted.

Duncan needn’t have held on to the mane; the kelpie had become so adhesive he couldn’t have come loose if he’d tried. “What of the spurs? Why would Granny give us spurs?”

“The spurs are made of iron; they must be. Iron alone can control it.”

Her grip on him tightened. She was holding so fast he could hardly breathe.

He dug his spurs into the flanks of the beast, which was twisting and shifting in shape. The harder he dug, the more solid it became beneath him despite feeling less and less like a horse. Using his legs and the spurs on his feet, he pushed and turned and nudged the creature in the direction they were meant to go. It bucked and jumped and made every attempt to loosen the grip of the iron spurs. Duncan held on for dear life, and not merely his. Sorcha’s life depended on it as well.

From behind him, she called out directions, telling him which way to turn the kelpie, which way to direct it.

On and on they went, dodging trees, jumping over rocks and obstacles, moving faster than any horse ever could. Duncan’s legs burned with the effort to keep control of the beast even as it made every attempt to dislodge him. The muscles in his legs were turning to gruel. He didn’t know how much longer he could maintain control of the dangerous monster.

At last, the creature came to a jarring stop. Rearing up on its back legs, it slung them to the ground, then darted off on the instant.