Page 30 of Heart of the Wren
On receiving no answer, I stumbled onwards for I don’t know how long, calling out and grasping at the air as I went. I flinched at a loud snort and a low grunt. Spinning on my heels, I became aware of a form moving in the fog. A large, dark shape, just out of sight.
“C’mon now, lads. This isn’t funny.” I backed away from the thing in the fog. The slushy tarmac of the lane gave way to hard soil, and I ran. The shape followed me, hooves thundering on the field. I tried to glance over my shoulder but tripped instead and came crashing to the ground. The contents of my pockets spilled out. I rolled onto my back as from the fog emerged a horse — a mare — huge, and black as pitch, with a wild mane and blood-red eyes. The mare snorted blasts of hot air from its flared nostrils and bared its teeth. Sharp teeth. Predator teeth.
I shouted but my mouth had run dry and made hardly any sound. I grabbed at the earth around me and found my house keys. I threw them at the mare but they bounced harmlessly off its hide. The mare advanced on me and I scrambled backwards, unable to find my footing. My hand landed on asmooth surface. A black stone. The gift from Dara. With all the might I could muster, I hurled the stone. The mare opened its mouth and the stone landed on its foul tongue and in that instant, the mare vanished. No puff of smoke, no blinding light, nothing. Simply there one moment and gone the next.
I remained on the ground, breathing fast. I searched around myself but found no trace of the mare. My heart bounced when something touched my shoulder.
“There you are.” Dara helped me to my feet. “What happened? Did you get lost in the fog?”
Bullseye was by his side, too, relief plain on his face. All of us had sobered up quickly.
“Did you see it?” I asked. “The mare, did you see it?”
“What mare?” Bullseye asked.
“You must have heard it!” I searched the spot where the mare had been until I found the black stone. I held it to up to Dara.
“Let’s get you home,” Dara said.
???
Once in the safety of the farmhouse, I set to work making sandwiches while Dara poured us all a whiskey.
Carol appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “What’s wrong? You’re all white as a sheet.”
Dara suggested she join us in the kitchen. “You’ll want to hear this.”
She sat with us at the kitchen table under the glare of the overhead light but didn’t acknowledge her father at all.
Bullseye pointed to the tarpaulin. “What happened here?”
Dara exchanged a glance with me, evidently seeking permission to reveal what had happened.
“It’s all part of it,” I said.
“All part of what?” Bullseye picked up a sandwich from the plate which I slid onto the table.
“I told you what’s been happening to me. Things disappearing and breaking. The kitchen window is one of them. And I think tonight, the horse was trying to break me too.”
“What did you see?” Dara touched neither his drink nor the food. He kept his attention on me.
“A big, black horse,” I said. “With red eyes. She chased me into the field. I shouted for you two, but you’d vanished.” I fished the black stone from my pocket. “This fell out when I tripped. I threw it and the horse disappeared. What did you see?”
“Nothing,” Dara said. “We were talking one minute and the next you were gone. We called out but you didn’t hear us. Bullseye thought you were playing a joke; he thought you were going to jump out and scare us.”
Bullseye munched on his sandwich. Carol sat wide-eyed.
“What was it?” I didn’t care if Bullseye thought I was crazy. I wanted answers. “A phouka?”
Dara scratched his nose. “It sounds like it but it didn’t try to get you onto its back, did it? That’s usually what they do.”
Bullseye took a mouthful of whiskey and swallowed hard. He slammed the tumbler onto the table. “Oh, that’s what they usually do, is it?The phouka? The phouka try to get unsuspecting farmers onto their backs on foggy lanes? For feck sake, will ye listen to yersevles.”
Carol tutted and crossed her arms. “Daddy, stop it.”
Dara tried to smile. “A phouka is—”
“I know what a feckin’ phouka is!” Bullseye said. “A big feckin’ spooky black horse who takes people for rides across the countryside. Everyone knows what they are. And everyone knows there’s no such feckin’ thing.”
