The Fault In Reality

Chapter Eight

Devany lies still, and it's as though I can feel the ground tremoring from his weight. The next moment, the great black horse gives a shrill squeal, and lifts his head weakly. I can see him trying to shift himself off his back, the muscles working in his shoulders.

"Oh, god."

I hear my voice, but can't remember saying the words. When I try to get closer, Devany begins to writhe on the ground. Chase grabs my arm and tugs me backwards, just as Devany throws himself onto all fours. His head is low, and he's trembling. He stumbles dizzily to the right, as though trying to bolt but too confused to quite manage it.

"He needs a vet," I say. "Get my father!"

I hear Chase's retreating footsteps, and am left to stare at Devany. I don't know how long I watch him stumble around. Finally he comes to a stand along the rail, sides heaving and favouring one of his front legs.

I see the panic swelling in his eyes, the shock of his fall reverberating through his body in shivers. Eventually the vet comes, a curt woman with hair pulled into a tidy ponytail. My father is fast at her heels, with Chase not far behind.

"So what happened, exactly?" the vet asks. It takes me a moment to speak.

"He... he spooked. Threw himself into this huge rear, took a slight step, and... just fell. On his back."

The vet nods, slightly.

"I'll need to examine him. He might merely be bruised, or he might have fractured his withers. It's hard to tell with horses; they're so enduring."

I nod, wondering how this will end. I'm not at all certain Devany will let the vet approach him, much less poke and prod at his sore shoulders.

"You should know-" I start to say, but the vet is already swinging herself into the corral. She whistles under her breath, taking in Devany's scarred appearance.

"He's a rescue horse," my father hurriedly explains. "But the thing is, he's not used to humans-"

Too late.

Devany takes off at a bucking gallop around the corral. The vet watches him go around. With his ears flattened, his powerful muscles folding and his ashen coat, he looks a bit otherworldly, and not in a good way.

Several times the vet waits for him to slow, and tries again to approach. Each time she fails in her endeavors. I watch as frustration begins to line her brow.

After a few more minutes of this, she turns to face me.

"You!" she says. I meet her gaze steadily. "Come here."

I slip under the rail, despite my father's protests.

"Can you catch this horse?" the vet demands.

"His name is Devany."

For some reason, I feel it very important that she know this.

"Can you catch Devany?" she asks, again.

I turn my gaze to the great black horse. He watches us from the corner. I study his demeanor.

"Yes," I say, even though I'm not certain I can.

The vet nods, and retreats from the corral. I feel the stares of Chase and my father searing into my back. I empty the emotions I don't need in a single exhalation, and start forwards. Devany pins his ears at me, stamping at the ground.

"Hush there, old boy," I tell him. He seems interested, so I keep on a steady stream of ramblings as I approach. My voice comes out kind and firm, strong. He needs a leader, but clearly so far none have come along that he's trusted enough to follow.

He waits for me to come. When I reach him, he's quivering and scared. I stand silently beside him, and match my breathing to his.

"What do I do?" I ask. The blue sky overhead seems to slight my words, rendering them small in comparison to its huge expanse. I study a scattering of wispy clouds, focus on the distant scent of something warm and sweet.

"Since he's so nervous, we'll have to settle on an external check," says the vet.

I reach over, casually, and touch my fingers tips to Devany's neck. He snorts and flinches under my touch, and I'm not sure whether it's from pain or fear. Slowly I widen my stillness into a stroking motion, and his skin remains smooth under my touch. No heat, no swelling. With baited breath I lengthen my strokes, until they stretch out to the rise of his withers.

Here he flinches, and I can feel a heated bump. I apply a bit more pressure, but Devany doesn't seem to be any large amount of pain. I drop my breath and step away, giving a little sigh of relief.

"Just bruising, I think," I tell the vet. Devany raises his head, and gives me a glance. I can just decipher a small ribbon of trust in his eyes. My heart suddenly seems too large for my chest.

As I walk back over to the vet, I hear Devany following behind me. My face barely twists a smile into a cough. My father is watching me, and the way his eyes follow me, wide and intent on my every movement, it's as though he's finally seeing me. Not a factor of guilt, not a sad, therapist-needy girl, but a young horse woman.

The shell of who I used to be.

The vet leaves after a quick conversation with my father, who swiftly tugs me out of the corral. I know there are a million reprimandations to be heard. I don't care. All that matters is that Devany let me help him. He trusted me.

And now I need to prove to him that he's made the right desicion.

After the day's adventures, nothing seems more inviting than the prospect of sleep. But as I'm ready to crawl into bed, I'm met with the sight of a paper lain on top of my pillow. I take one look, and grab it in both fists.

So Chase found what he was looking for. I grit my teeth and tear the printed article into shreds. I don't need to read it. After all, it's about me.

My window is opened, and the handful of paper rippings go floating down in a ghostly dance to the grass below. Good riddance, I think.