The Fault In Reality

Chapter Thirteen

Devany and I stand in the corral. Chase has all but disappeared these past few days, and in the few moments we spend together he keeps his gaze to the ground. For now it would seem I'm back to square one, with no way to prepare Devany for a rider.

I don't examine my feelings too closely. Today I work Devany into a bridle. It's a slow game of green light, red light. I've taken apart an old snaffle and tweaked it to my liking. A french mouth goes in for the bit, and the noseband and throat latch are removed.

My first order of business is to convince Devany to take the bit. From the moment he sees the bridle in my hands, I can tell his experience with it has been terrible. I shudder at the memory of the stories I've heard, some of the bridles I've seen.

There are many parts of my past I'm embarrassed about. But one thing I've always prided myself on is my refusal to ride any horse whose mouth is playing host to some kind of torture device. When I was younger I used to watch horses with their heads tied down nearly to their chests. Even then I thought it looked painful.

My job today is to replace Devany's bad experiences, whatever they may be, with a good one. I've dipped the bit in some honey, and I let the soft leather of the crown strap swing from my fingers so that the bridle dangles near Devany's head.

His black nose slowly dips down to investigate, and soon there's a flurry of suspicious snuffling from his flared nostrils. Then he gingerly parts his lips and waggles them experimentally at the sweetened metal of the bit. Light plays off the edges of the dribbling honey. I hold my breath, hoping he'll deem it worthy bribery.

He does. It disappears into his greedy mouth, and for a moment he's content to suck it clean. I don't so much as twitch a muscle, but stay with my feet splayed firmly in the dust. My arm aches from holding the bridle still against the tugging of his bobbing head, until finally I hesitantly try to lower it over his ears.

Devany's coat ripples casually at a nearby fly. He seems relaxed and content with my movements. It's my own fault for not reading the subtle agitation in his demeanour. Too late I realize his fuse is nearly burnt, and he begins to toss his head. The bridle jerks out of my grip and swings at his neck.

One moment I'm standing beside a placid, sugar-focused horse on a calm summer day. The next moment the air is thick with dust, and light cuts harshly through the clutter to draw a shadow from Devany's flashing hoof.

Pain explodes at my hip, stars ignite across my vision... I'm dimly aware of the ground in my face, but mostly I'm wondering why my world has suddenly slipped sideways. Then I register the crooked silhouette of a rearing horse, and strangely enough a distant clump of grass. Oh, I think, oh and ow.

Blotches of purple begin to blossom over my sight. My lids fall closed of their own accord, and an old train of thought suddenly snags my consciousness away into a spiralling tunnel of dreams.

I'm next aware of something soft tickling my face. It's not until several seconds after I actually manage to force my groggy brain to untangle itself. Finally I peel my eyes open and find two dark crescents thrust into my face. Then I notice the dark velvet of fur that surrounds them.

Devany is snuffling at me curiously, as though wondering why I decided to lie down all of a sudden. I test each part of my body, and find every limb movable, though not without considerable soreness. My left hip throbs with a searing pain, pain that spreads up to my lips and parts them in a whimper.

Several deep breaths later, I lift my hands to stroke a concerned Devany. The bridle still hangs crookedly off one ear, and with deliberately careful motions I manage to fix it on properly.

He lets me. His dark eyes look concerned and guilty, two emotions I know only too well.

"It's alright," I try to tell him, except it comes out in a groan.

Despite what I suspect is a severely bruised hip, I'm feeling pretty good about it all. Devany is currently wearing a bridle without complaint, and is also nuzzling me affectionately, something I never expected from a horse as reserved as he.

"Era?"

I wince at the sound of my father's voice. No doubt the picture is less than pretty: Devany with a bridle, me sprawled on the ground.

"Era!" my father's voice now has a trace of hysteria.

"I'm fine!" I say, as normally as I can. My breath however is still only just coming back, so I fail in this endeavor and my words meet the air choked and dry. I force myself unsteadily to my feet as my father bursts into the corral.

Devany reacts immediately. Rather than shying away as I expect him to, he flattens his ears and straightens his neck, teeth bared at my father. I realize with a none too unpleasant jolt he's protecting me from what he sees as danger.

I try to remind myself my father is doing the same as he raises a whip and gives it a hefty crack. Devany throws himself onto his haunches, but to my amazement does not stand down. Desperate to stop things before they escalate even further, I stagger past Devany and ease the whip out of my father's whitened knuckles.

My father pulls me out of the corral, then starts the whole Concerned Parent act, swiftly followed by the Angry Father speech. I think he'll yell a bit and then let me go, but instead he takes on a deathly quiet tone.

"That's it, Era. I warned you what I would do if you wouldn't listen. Jack doesn't own the wretched creature yet, and as of today he never will. Devany is sold."

The words alone hurt more than Devany's hooves ever did.

"But not to the slaughter house," I say carefully.

"No. There's no reason this horse should have to pay for your lunacy. A man came by, looking for some racing prospects. I told him I had a spirited creature who might do well. We talked it over dinner and the deal is done."

I shake my head slowly, then faster.

"No, please," I whisper. I know it's a fruitless attempt, but my heart is hurting too much for me to just let this go. I never thought I'd become attached to a horse ever again.

I think I can bear it. As I lie in my bed, thoughts subdued by painkillers, I think I can bear it.

But then in the morning, when a sky blue truck and trailer pulls up, I understand. It's never not going to hurt. No matter how much I try to guard my heart, try to protect others from my deathly touch, something always goes amiss. My mother feels it, my father feels it, and now Devany will feel it.

I'm so caught up in the pain in my hip, and the misery that enfolds me, that I don't realize it until after.

The sky blue truck. I've seen it before. It's the same the mare from the auction disappeared into, never to return.

Devany.