Spirit of the Sea

Chapter 9: The Call of the Crow

   The vicious bite of a frost-riddled sea breeze sinks into my skin the moment I step outside, forcing me to turn up the collar of the jacket underneath the woolen one. I push my hands into my pockets and shrug up my shoulders as I make my way across the meadow to the hill. All the while, my ears are alert for the sound of Farr'ka's call.
Silence.
   I'm not sure whether to be relieved or worried, but I pick up pace nevertheless. By the rate of her recovery, I'm guessing she'll be healed by a week's time. That should give us enough time to train and earn each other's trust before the Murchadh Races. Each step brings me closer to the Races, closer to Farr'ka, and closer to danger.
My footsteps quicken in the dry cliff grass.
   The large mare is pacing slowly in the shallow water, and dark red liquid stains the ocean below her. It isn't hers. She flicks her tail in acknowledgment of my presence as I come to stand beside her. Her long, strong legs are bathed in the blood. Her neck is an arch, her long face close to the water.
Searching.
Yearning.
   My heart aches for her suddenly, seeing her connection to the endless horizon of salt and stormy peril. My hand reaches out and rests on her side, reaching out and grabbing each slow breath that swells in her chest. I hold on to them, and I put them somewhere safe. I won't let them leave, I tell myself. I make a silent promise to her, a promise that protects each breath of hers that cries for the ocean.
"So why don't you just go back?"
   I whisper this suddenly, unaware that my thoughts were aloud. Farr'ka turns to look at me now, with a gaze that says so many things to me and reveals so many emotions. A gaze so intense I have to remind myself; she is a horse. A mare lost at sea and washed up on the wrong side of the sun. She isn't longing for the ocean, just the place she came from. She is a horse. Nothing more.
I tap her side twice and turn away, trudging back up the beach with Farr'ka's hooves moving in the sand behind me. And then her breath is on my neck. Hot and impatient and inquisitive all at once. I don't think about how close her teeth are to my neck, no matter that the collar is turned up. I don't think about Phil. I turn to face her instead, staring into those vibrant orange eyes that seem to emit their own light. We stay like this for a moment, searching each other's eyes for something neither of us have, when a crow's call suddenly breaks the rhythmic song of the sea. Laughter follows the call, and I realize it's no bird at all. It's my mother.
   She stumbled in the sand towards me, followed by a small group of what I can only guess are some of the few friends she's able to keep. She has a plastic Solo cup in her hand, and alcohol drips down the unhealthily pale skin of her forearm.
   "Davy's got a pony!" She squawks, and leans forwards as if she can barely hold herself up through the laughter. Farr'ka stiffens, and I can see every muscle within her tense as quiver. So I'm by my mother's side in an instant, propping her up with my shoulder.
   "Ma, what are you doing here?" I murmur, so only she can hear. Farr'ka is mimicking the ocean, swaying restlessly in a state in between hostility and tranquility.
She won't hold out much longer.
   "Yoo had sand in yur hairs last time I saw yoo, an' I wanned sum too!" she screeches, her voice too loud and sharp for this silver beach. Farr'ka's pupils are dilating, her ears rotating to catch every sound.
   "Ma, let's get back home. I'll make you some
warm cidar, or tea, or whatever you want."
As long as it's not alcoholic, I add silently. My mother bends down and reaches to get some sand, throwing it up in the air and laughing hysterically.
Farr'ka quivers, a silent storm barely contained.
I try to lead my mother towards the crest of the steep hill leading to the farmland, but her two friends- dressed in clothing I don't even want to try and describe- fly down the beach towards Farr'ka. They tug at her mane and spread their hands over her neck only a quick second before she rears up. Her hooves strike out, nailing one in the head. She screeches, writhing to the ground as the feral mae crashes back down to the sand. A sickening crack sounds through out the silver beach as the fallen girl's leg gets crushed under Farr'ka's hoof. She lets out another scream before her friend drags her away. The beach is stained red with blood, just as before. My mother stumbles backwards, sprinting clumsily towards the hill in terror. The other woman and her fallen companion are making it slowly up the beach, but Farr'ka is gaining ground towards them. The horse lets out a scream of rage, building up before rearing once more.
   But I'm faster. I stand in front of her, before her shoulder collides with my stomach. The air is driven out of my lungs and I fall to the sand, grit finding its way through my clothing. Inky black spots cloud my vision, and I suck oxygen back into my lungs to clear them. As I blink back unconscious, I turn towards the sound of screaming. Farr'ka is dragging the wounded woman towards her by her broken leg, like the tide pulling an injured animal into the sea. The woman is clawing at the sand, crying out to her fleeing friend. There's murder in the mare's eyes, but her gaze is not her own. There's something bigger, more dangerous that has taken over her golden stare . This isn't the mare I saved on the beach. Farr'ka is bringing the struggling and bloody woman closer to the waves, and ocean foam spits at their silhouette. I push strength back into my numb limbs and race towards the horse and her prey. Wrapping my hand over the top of her muzzle, I pull her head away from the woman and jerk her face towards mine. I put as much force into my stare as I can, but my hands are shaking as I shove her away. The woman cries out as she strains up the beach. I don't have time to worry about her.
I'm on Farr'ka's back, digging my heels into her sides. That's how to make a horse run, right? Fear flashes through me, white-hot and horrible for a second before the blue-black mare bucks up and starts to run.
She's fast. Incredibly fast. So fast it takes my breath away. It's unclear whether of not she's running for me for away from me, but I suddenly worry that the beach isn't long enough. I'm clinging to her mane, feeling each muscle work beneath me as she sprints smoothly across the stretch of sand. Her wound isn't seeming to bother her, and the bandage remains white, no trace of blood. I can feel her heartbeat, and each of her heavy breaths mirror my own. We run until I can't remember where we've been, why we left, or what in the world I could possibly be worried about.