Incendiare

I fidgeted nervously on the bench outside Ladybird’s stall.  “How much longer is this supposed to take?”

“She’s only been in labor for half an hour,” my dad said.  “You’ve got to be patient, Emma.  These things take time – especially in the case of a mare’s first foal.”

“I know,” I sighed.  And I did know; this wasn’t the first birth that I had attended on my father’s ranch, not by a long shot.  But Ladybird was my favorite mare, and had been ever since I first moved in with my dad a few years ago. 

I had waited eleven months to meet Ladybird’s firstborn.  I didn’t want to wait anymore. 

As the minutes trickled onward, I forced myself to take deep, even breaths.  Stay calm, I told myself firmly.  You can’t do anything for Ladybird or her foal by getting anxious. 

The sound of a tiny whinny woke me from an uneasy sleep.  I leaped to my feet and saw that Ladybird was standing.  A tiny foal, still damp with afterbirth, was nursing from her, making greedy little sucking sounds as it drank. 

My heart sank.  “I missed it.”

“Don’t worry – everything went fine,” said my dad.  “You haven’t been sleeping well lately; I didn’t feel any need to wake you up.” 

I wish you had, I thought.  I know this foal doesn’t mean anything special to you, but it was personal for me.  But I said nothing. 

“Tell you what,” my dad said.  “I know you’ve been really interested in this foal – how about you name her?” 

“It’s a she?” I said automatically.  For some reason, I’d been expecting a colt, not a filly.  I’d even had a name picked out. 

The foal stopped nursing and turned toward the sound of my voice.  Looking at her clearly for the first time, I drew in a startled breath.  She was beautiful – a classic thoroughbred, lean and sleek, with long legs and a delicate, chiseled face.  She was the spitting image of her mother, except for her coat.  Ladybird was a deep, rich chestnut, but the foal was so black that she seemed to suck all the light from the room in which she stood. 

“Well?” my dad inquired.  “What’ll it be?” 

The foal’s ears pricked forward, and her dark eyes met mine.  I shivered. 
“Her name is Zephyr,” I said, the name coming from nowhere, and the foal’s ear twitched like she was agreeing with me. 
Then she went back to nursing, and the strange moment was over.

------------------------

I swung my pickup truck into the ranch’s long gravel driveway and nearly bit my tongue as the tires made the transition from smooth pavement to rough stone.  I could see the ranch’s gate ahead – a massive cast-iron thing, with the bronze silhouette of a galloping unicorn in the center. 

My lip curled in distaste.  The unicorn was a fairly new addition; dad had put it to the gate not long after he had acquired our new stallion, Hotspot.  He said it was, and I quote, “a symbol of his commitment to breed the fastest horses known to man.” 

I thought it was arrogant, comparing our horses’ speed to the impossible swiftness of the unicorns and their kin.  The fata cavalli – or demon-horses, as they were more commonly known – were the fastest animals in the world.  Multiple studies had clocked the common unicorn at speeds of nearly one hundred miles per hour.  Hotspot was a good horse, but there was no comparing him to a fata.

I had my own reasons for disliking the unicorn, too; they had caused trouble around the ranch before.  Not the common unicorn – they only lived in Europe.  But some of their kin were found in the United States: the wisps and white-horses of the south that sometimes ate travelers lost in marshes, but other than that didn’t really cause much trouble.  The Nightmares were much more dangerous, but they only lived out west - supposedly, at least.

The unicorn on the gate didn’t look like any of these.  It was the stylized heraldic version, like the ones on ancient European knights’ shields and flags back in the Middle Ages.  It didn’t even look much like a real unicorn.

What’s more, the stupid thing nearly doubled the weight of the gate.  Luckily, someone had beaten me to it this morning; one of the ranch hands must have come early to get a head start on the feeding. 
I parked my car by the barn and hurried to Zephyr’s new pasture.  She had been turned out with the other two-year-old fillies a few days ago, but I hadn’t been able to come to the barn until this weekend. 

As I drew closer to the fence, I saw Zephyr grazing near the back of the pasture.  Her coal-black coat stuck out like a sore thumb against the pale chestnut coats of the other horses. 

“Zephyr!”  Her head shot up at the sound of my voice, and she turned to face me with her ears pricked forward. 

I grabbed the filly’s leather training halter from its rack by the gate; by the time I turned back to the fence, Zephyr was waiting for me.  “Hey, girl,” I said as I slipped the halter over her ears.  She snorted in answer and nosed at my pockets, looking for a treat.  I offered her a carrot, which she munched happily as we left the pasture and started toward the grooming shed. 

I tied Zephyr’s lead rope to the rail and was just starting to brush her when I heard the sound of footsteps.  “That’s a nice horse you’ve got there,” a voice called. 

Startled, I stood up and turned to see a boy leaning against the wall of the grooming shed.  He was tall, lean, and cute in the California-surfer way: tanned skin, bleach-blond hair, and clear blue eyes.  He looked a few years older than me – around twenty or so.  I blushed, suddenly feeling like a child in my jeans and ratty t-shirt. 

Zephyr snorted, and the boy grinned.  “She’s spunky, too… I like her.  What’s her name?”

“Zephyr,” I told him. 

 “Like the west wind?  Cool name.”  His disarming smile widened. 

“What’s yours?”

“Emma.”  I answered without thinking, and then mentally kicked myself.  Who was this guy, anyway, and what was he doing on the ranch?  I had no business talking to a complete stranger, even if he was cute. 

“It’s nice to meet you.   My name’s Ian Scott; I was looking for a summer job, and I heard about the ranch.  Is the boss here today?”

“My dad?  He’s up at the main office,” I said, relaxing a little.  “I’ll take you to him, after I finish with Zephyr.”

The filly paced restlessly, and Ian winked.  “By all means.  Don’t let me interrupt.”

I continued brushing Zephyr’s coat in smooth, even strokes, doing my best to ignore him.

“She’s very pretty,” Ian said behind me.  “Was she bred here?”
I gritted my teeth; his voice was distracting me.  “Yeah, she was, a couple of years ago,” I replied.  “She’s one of the first foals by Hotspot.” 
“He’s your new stallion?  That’s interesting.  I couldn’t help but notice that she’s the only black horse here.”

“Yeah, Dad likes chestnuts, so we tend to breed for that color.”  I smiled, relaxing a bit; I loved talking about the ranch, even if I sometimes felt like I didn’t quite fit in here.  “But we have a few bays and roans descended from our last stallion, Elijah.  He was a bay.” 

Ian nodded.  “I see.  Well, nothing like a little variety.”  He smiled and reached a hand toward Zephyr’s muzzle. 

The filly pinned her ears flat against her skull and snapped at Ian, who quickly pulled his hand away.  “Whoa!”

I grabbed Zephyr’s halter as she went to strike again.  “Sorry,” I said, mortified.  “She’s never done that before – I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

“Don’t worry about it.”  Ian looked shaken, but he appraised Zephyr’s snorting figure calmly.  “I’ll wait over here until you finish with her.” 
I resumed brushing the filly’s coat, feeling more than a little perturbed.  Zephyr was practically quivering with anger; I patted her neck soothingly and she settled down, although her ears were still flattened irritably against her head.  “What’s up with you?” I asked her softly, and she snorted. 

------------------------

I could still hear the pounding of Zephyr’s hooves as Ian and I made our way up the hill to the main office.  The filly had been galloping up and down the fence line for the past ten minutes, whinnying at me and snapping at the other horses that approached her. 

I was still puzzling over her strange behavior as I knocked on the office door.  Zephyr was a thoroughbred, and like all thoroughbreds, she could be high-strung and temperamental on occasion.  But there was a fine line between “excitable” and “crazy,” and she had certainly crossed that line today. 

My dad didn’t seem particularly surprised to see Ian.  “You must be the young man who called about a job yesterday,” he said without preamble when we had both stepped inside.  “How long are you going to be in town?”

“Just for the summer,” Ian replied.  “I’ve got to go back to vet school after that.” 

Vet school?  I was impressed, and, from the look of it, so was my dad.  “Why don’t you come into my study, Ian?  We can talk more about this there.” 

He shot me a look that clearly indicated dismissal and closed the door behind them. 

I stood there for a second, startled by the abruptness with which they’d left me.  What, no goodbye?  I started for the door – maybe Zephyr would be calmer by now – but the sound of my name from the office made me halt. 

“Emma’s a good girl, but I worry about her,” said my dad’s voice.  “She hasn’t been the same since the Nightmare came through this area two years ago.”

“I heard about that,” Ian responded.  “But I thought it was nothing but rumor.  They never found the horse, did they?” 

“Not in the strictest sense of the word.  But there was definitely a Nightmare here – I found burned underbrush and scorched hoofmarks not far from the ranch, not to mention the body of my best stallion torn apart on the ground.”

I sat down on the nearest sofa, suddenly unable to stand.  Dad had never, ever talked about that night with me – and here he was spilling it all to a total stranger.  I couldn’t believe it. 

Two years ago, a Nightmare had come out of the hills that surrounded the ranch.  It stormed that night, so nobody noticed the sound of hooves or the fiery mane until the fata was practically in our front yard.  I had been watching the lightning that night, and I’d seen it right as it had passed right beneath my window -  a clattering and a flash of fire so bright that I thought I’d imagined it, until the horses started screaming. 
I had run out into the storm to protect them, somehow, when I saw the Nightmare clearly.  It had been massive, with rippling muscles and a jet-black coat that gleamed with rain and the reflected firelight from its blazing mane.  It had been trying to get into one of the pastures when I startled it; it didn’t attack me, like I’d thought it would, but turned and ran instead. 

I’d thought everything was going to be fine, but Dad and the ranch hands found Elijah’s corpse the next morning.  The Nightmare had ripped him apart. 

It wasn’t a memory I liked re-living, but Dad’s story had brought it to the surface. 

I rose and quietly started for the door; I’d heard enough about Nightmares to last me for a good while.   But when Ian spoke next, there was a quiet clandestineness in his voice that made me pause. 
“I know this probably isn’t my place,” he said hesitantly, “but I was wondering about that filly that your daughter is so fond of – Zephyr.  Emma told me that Hotspot was her sire, but that’s a load of garbage, respectfully speaking.  Chestnuts breed true.”

“You’re right,” my father sighed.  “A mating between two chestnut horses will always produce a chestnut foal.”

“So who’s the sire, then?”

“I’m not sure.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.  My dad had lied – to me, to everyone.

And if Hotspot wasn’t my horse’s sire, then who was?

------------------------

It was late at night, but I wasn’t tired.  I couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation I’d overheard earlier.  What did it mean? 

I closed my email and opened a page on Google.  I’d been researching equine color genetics, hoping to find some answers as to why Zephyr had been born black instead of chestnut.  Most of the articles that I read were too confusing for me to glean much information, but I understood enough to confirm what my father and Ian had said. 

Too tired to research any more, I rolled my office chair over to the open window and felt myself relax slightly as I surveyed the landscape below. 
The horse pastures stretched all the way to the low rise of the mesa, dotted with scrub brush.  A small campfire on the ridge cast a tiny flickering red light, but everything else was tinted silver by the moon. 
There was a clatter in the yard below me, and I jumped out of my skin as a bottle sailed through my window.  It hit the floor with a thud and rolled under the bed. 

I stared at it, confused, then picked it up.  It was a Mountain Dew bottle, empty except for a rolled-up sheet of paper inside. 

I opened the bottle and extracted the note.  It was short, and written in loopy, elegant script. 

     Dear Emma,
     I hope that I’m not being too forward, but I enjoyed talking to you this morning.  Your father    has given me the job I wanted, so I will be at the ranch more often and I hope that we can become better acquainted.  I look forward to seeing you soon.
-Ian

I set the note on my desk and turned back to the window, a small smile forming on my lips even though I couldn’t decide whether the note was disturbing or flattering.  The attention was nice, but what was he getting at?

I sighed and went back to gazing at the campfire on the mesa.  To my confusion, it seemed to have moved.  It also looked taller, more spread out. 

A shiver rattled down my spine.  I remembered this.

The flame began to move again, lengthening and flowing like a comet’s tail as the Nightmare galloped over the ridge and out of sight.

------------------------

I decided that I didn’t need sleep.  I needed answers. 
Why had the Nightmare come back, and what did it want?  If it came to the ranch again, what could I do to protect the horses? 

For once, though, the internet was failing me.  Practically nothing was known about Nightmares.  They were too rare, elusive, solitary, and aggressive to make good candidates for study.  I found a few concrete facts, but most of the information I came across was nothing but rumor and wild guessing. 

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and clicked on yet another link, TheFataUncovered.com, and continued sifting through the pages.  This site had a lot of them.  I saw the names of all the fata I knew of, plus some more that I didn’t – Common Unicorn, Kirin, White-horse, Wisp, Kelpie, Karkadaan, Shadavar, on and on until, near the bottom of the page, I saw Nightmare. 

I clicked the link. 

The page that opened was surprisingly long – much longer than anything I’d found before.  There was a picture, too, the first close-up shot of a Nightmare that I’d ever seen.  It was a massive animal, coal-black, broader-chested and more well-muscled than any horse.  Its eyes gleamed faintly red in the light of its flaming mane and tail, and I could see a massive, ropy scar running down the animal’s neck. 

I scrolled down, past the picture and onto the information.

"The Nightmare is one of the rarest and most elusive of the fata, as well as one of the most aggressive.  Its appearance is similar to that of a large draft horse, and it is invariably black.  It has no horn, like the Scottish Kelpie, and is most easily identified by its flaming mane and tail, which are easily visible when the creature is running. 
The Nightmare is nocturnal, and has never been seen during the daytime.  It is solitary and dines on large mammals such as deer, wild horses, and humans.  Little is known about their range, migration patterns and breeding grounds, other than that the Nightmare is native to the Americas and mainly frequents areas of hot, open grassland."

Frowning, I continued to read.  This article was good, but it wasn’t telling me anything I hadn’t already deduced for myself.  Couldn’t anyone tell me anything about how to repel them? 

I scrolled down to the section headed ‘Behavior’ and continued to read. 

Behaviorally, the Nightmare is similar to its close relative, the Kelpie, in many respects.  Like the Kelpie, the Nightmare is said to be able to change its shape in order to lure in unsuspecting prey.  It also dislikes iron and silver, although not as much as the Kelpie. 

There are many rumors and local legends surrounding the Nightmare, including tales of their being domesticated and mating with horses, flying, and deliberately starting wildfires in order to smoke prey out of hiding.  All of these claims are unsubstantiated and should not be taken seriously; however, so little is known about the Nightmare that it should nonetheless be approached with extreme caution. 

I closed the window, mulling over what I had just read.  There was an iron cross on the wall in dad’s office; it wasn’t very big, but I could at least hang it outside Zephyr’s stall.  I’ll do it in the morning.

------------------------

Ian showed up just as I finished attaching the cross to the door of Zephyr’s stall with a length of bailing twine.  “What’s that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“It’s an iron cross.”

“I can see that,” he said, smiling slightly.  “But why are you attaching it to the stall door?  I thought it belonged in your dad’s office.” 

“I borrowed it,” I explained, and then hesitated.  I hadn’t told anyone about seeing the Nightmare on the hill, not even my father.  But there was something about Ian that made me want to take him into my confidence.  “Can you keep a secret?” 

He looked interested.  “I’m very good at keeping secrets.”

I took a deep breath.  “I saw a Nightmare on the ridge last night.”

A change came over Ian at my words; he suddenly looked alert, cautious.  “A Nightmare?  Are you sure you saw one?” he asked.  He almost sounded nervous. 

“It was definitely a Nightmare.  I saw it run.”

“But that can’t be right.”  Ian ran a hand through his hair, looking distracted.  “He was tethered.”

“Wait, who was tethered?”  I had clearly lost track of the conversation – that, or Ian was talking to himself. 

“Nothing, never mind.”  He smiled and seemed to shake himself.  “Thanks for telling me, and I won’t tell a soul.”

I heard hoofbeats and looked down to the end of the barn to see Zephyr headed toward us, held firmly by one of our senior grooms.  “She gave the trainer a workout today, but she’s learning,” he said as he led the filly into her stall. 

Zephyr nosed my offered hand, then bent her head to examine the cross on the door.  She jerked her head back with an indignant snort as the cold iron touched her nose. 

“It’s for your own good,” I called to her as she circled restlessly. 

She snorted again, and, relenting, I unwrapped the bailing twine and moved the cross to the side of the stall.

------------------------

I left my window open again that night, so when the bottle came sailing through, I wasn’t really surprised.  I unscrewed the lid and removed the message. 
Ian was briefer today.  The note simply read,

   Dear Emma,
You shared a secret with me today, and I’d like to share one of mine with you in return.  Meet me at the end of the driveway at nine.
You might be wondering why you should even consider coming, but what I have to say is both urgent and important.  It’s about your horse, and it’s about the Nightmare too.  Hopefully you’ll be willing to hear me out.
-Ian

I looked at my clock.  It was 8:43.  I could make it, if I hurried. 
As I headed downstairs, I wondered why I was even agreeing to this.  I barely even knew Ian, and I definitely didn’t want to go wandering off with him in the middle of the night.  But if he really did know something about the Nightmare, I owed it to the ranch to find out what it was. 
Maybe he somehow knew how to get rid of it.  It was almost too much to hope for, but it was a chance. 

“Hey, dad?” I said, poking my head into the kitchen. 

“Yeah?”  He was reading the newspaper, and didn’t even turn to look at me. 

“I’m going for a walk.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be with Ian.” 

“Fine, just make sure you’re back by ten.”  He flipped the page and continued reading. 

“Okay… I’m leaving now.”  For a second, I almost hoped that he would stop me, but he didn’t move.  No surprise there. 

My sneakers crunched on the gravel road as I made my way up to the front gate.  The light was on, and I could see the outline of the bronze unicorn gleaming faintly up ahead. 

Ian was waiting at the foot of the gate.  He had a long iron chain in his hand, and his expression was more solemn than I had ever seen it. 

“Wait here,” he said, not even bothering with a greeting.  “Sit down, and I’ll go get him.” 

“Get who?”  I was confused. 

“My horse.” 

I blinked.  “What?”  Since when has Ian had a horse?

But Ian was already gone.  I heard a faint clanking, then a deep, hoarse whinny. 

A moment later, Ian reappeared leading a bona fide monster.
The Nightmare was even bigger than I had come to imagine from the photographs online.  It dwarfed the largest horse I had ever seen, not so much in terms of height but in bulk and sheer muscle.  Its head was easily the size of my torso, and its eyes gleamed dully at me from beneath its long, tangled forelock.  Flame flickered softly at the edges of its mane, a pale, almost indiscernible light. 

Ian shook the chain, and the Nightmare halted, blowing a puff of air out of its flared nostrils.  “Emma, meet Diablo.”

The Nightmare pricked its ears and peered at me with one bloodshot eye. 

I couldn’t speak.  How was this even happening?  Nightmares were supposed to be elusive and unable to be caught, yet there was Ian holding one at the end of a chain.  Why didn’t it run?  It looked strong enough to rip the links in half, if it wanted to. 

“How did you do it?” I blurted out before I could think better of the question. 

Ian looked delighted to be asked.  “It was just a theory, really,” he said, the words tumbling over themselves as he spoke.  “I was studying the fata in vet school, and I wondered – why should this one species be so invulnerable to observation and capture?  Why shouldn’t I be the first to study a live specimen?  So I made it my personal project to find out everything I could about Nightmares, and eventually capture one of my own.  I wasn’t making much progress until I stumbled upon some research on Kelpies.  They really are quite similar to Nightmares – even down to the iron aversion.  Silver works better, but it’s expensive and breaks too easily.  Parts of his bridle are silver, but most of it is iron, just like the chain.” 

The Nightmare lowered its head and exhaled, as if it was tired.  “So you managed to catch him?”  I asked, indicating Diablo. 
Ian laughed.  “I did, when he was just a few years old.  He’s only six, even though he looks a lot older, and believe me, he deserves his name.  He used to cause a lot of trouble, before I figured out how to keep him tethered.” 

Diablo’s massive head drooped further, until his muzzle was nearly brushing the ground, and as his mane parted I saw a long, pale scar running down his neck. 

A chill ran down my spine.  “You made the website I looked at, didn’t you?” I asked.  “Diablo’s picture was on there.  I remember the scar.”
“You found that old website?”  Ian looked amused.  “That was one of my projects from high school – some research for Biology class.  I can’t believe you took it seriously; I’ve proven so many of those “unsubstantiated rumors” true just through the research I’ve done on Diablo here.”  Ian shook the chain, and the Nightmare flinched.  “Although I must admit, some of my discoveries have been happy accidents.  Like your horse.” 

“What does Zephyr have to do with anything?” I demanded. 
“Surely you must realize that your father lied to you about the stallion Hotspot being her sire.”

“I figured it out, yeah,” I answered slowly.  “But I don’t see what-”
Ian stared at me, a manic glint in his eyes.  “How can you still not get it!” he shouted, making Diablo shy.  “Her intelligence, her aversion to iron, her color, not to mention how much she dislikes me – Diablo is her sire, and Zephyr is a Nightmare.” 

For a second, I just stared at him.  Then, I started laughing.  “So this is what you wanted to tell me?  An impossible theory based on nothing but speculation and guesswork?  Zephyr isn’t a Nightmare – she’s just a strange horse.  I was there when she was born, and her mother is an ordinary thoroughbred.  So if you have all the answers, how does that work?”

“I don’t know,” Ian admitted.  “But Nightmares can interbreed with horses – it’s rare, they consider them food for the most part, but it can happen, and what’s more, they breed true with horses.  A mating between a Nightmare and an ordinary horse will produce a Nightmare, albeit one that’s more horselike and better at hiding during the day.  It’s how they’ve managed to sustain their numbers, even when there’s so few of them.” 

He sounded so completely delusional, but he obviously believed wholeheartedly in what he was saying – and there was no ignoring the captured Nightmare at the end of the chain, nor the similarities that I was beginning to notice between the stallion’s head and my own horse’s features.  “Let’s say, just for the sake of conversation, that I believe all of this,” I said slowly.  “That means that your Nightmare came in contact with our mares.”  I looked up suddenly as realization hit me.  “Diablo is the Nightmare that killed our stallion, isn’t he?” 
“He got away from me that night,” Ian said softly.  “But look – he’s chained.  It will never happen again.  This monster will never hurt anyone else.” 

He rattled the chain, and the Nightmare shied again. 

The sight of the monster’s fear tore me two ways.  This was the animal that was responsible for the death of our prize stallion, the panic among our herd.  He could have destroyed the ranch and everything I loved in a single night.

If he had been running free, I would have hated him.  But seeing the way he cowered before Ian’s iron chain, I couldn’t.  This animal might have been a monster before, but now he was just a broken shell.  I wondered how Ian had reduced him to this state of wretchedness. 
“Maybe you’re right, and you have solved the problem,” I said.  “But you knew the risk in coming here again, so why would you come back?”
“Because I need your horse.” 

My jaw dropped.  He was out of his mind.  “No way.  I’ll never give you Zephyr.  She’s mine.  And even if she is a Nightmare, I’ll never let you chain her up the way you have Diablo.” 

“You won’t have much of a choice, soon!” Ian yelled.  “That Nightmare you saw on the ridge last night wasn’t Diablo – it was her!  She’s nearly three years old, practically a fully fledged Nightmare by now.  Soon she’ll be uncontrollable, and everyone she comes into contact with will be in danger – especially you.” 

“But why on earth would I surrender her to you?  Your horse caused no end of trouble, and then you show up two years later, pretending to be our friend when you were really hiding Diablo nearby all along?  Why should I trust you?”

“I don’t expect you to trust me, but think about what this could mean for science!”  His face split into a grotesque parody of his usual cheerful grin.  “If I had her, then I would have proof, irrefutable proof, that Nightmares can breed with horses, that they can be controlled.  With one horse people can still doubt, but with two, they’ll have to listen.  My discoveries will change the management of the fata cavalli forever.  We won’t have to worry about walking through marshes, or swimming late at night.  We’ll have freedom – and, if we have to, we can wipe them out, the way we did the dragons.”

The glint in his eyes was bordering on mania, and for the first time, I started to feel afraid.  But I stood my ground.  “I don’t care about science,” I replied.  “I don’t want to exterminate the fata, even if they do cause us trouble.  I care about horses, and especially about my horse.  And I’m not letting you take her – ever.”

Ian grabbed my arm and twisted it until I cried out.  “You seem to think that you have a choice about this,” he spat.  “But your father will listen to me, and he’ll take Zephyr away from you.  He doesn’t coddle monsters – that’s what she is, a monster, not a horse.  He’ll give her to me, and I think you know it.” 

“Not once I tell him what a mad scientist his new hire has turned out to be.” 

He hit me, with the very end of the iron chain, a blow to the side of my face that left me reeling.  Diablo reared and whinnied, a shrill call of alarm.  “But nobody is going to tell him that,” Ian hissed. 

He twisted my arm harder.

Through the pain, I heard the sound of hoofbeats. 

Zephyr burst onto the scene in a whirlwind of fire and hooves.   She swerved around me, so close that I could feel the heat from her mane, and slammed into Ian.  He flew several feet, hit the ground, and didn’t move.  Diablo’s chain came loose from his hand, and the stallion bolted off in the direction of the ranch. 

“We’ve got to stop him!” I called to Zephyr.  “He’ll hurt the horses if we let him run wild.” 

She snorted in response and took off running, her fiery mane and tail streaming out behind her. 

I watched her go for a second, and then turned to look at Ian.  I was still grappling with all of his revelations, all the things he’d told me that I still couldn’t quite bring myself to believe in. 

But I could worry about it later.  Right now, all that mattered was getting Diablo off the ranch. 

I started running in pursuit of Zephyr. 

------------------------

When I reached the pastures, I found a scene of utter bedlam.  The horses were long gone; they had fled to the farthest reaches of the fenceline in order to escape the battling monsters in the drive.  Zephyr had overtaken Diablo by the barn and was driving him away from the horses, back toward me.  She didn’t seem to be attacking him outright; he was too much bigger and stronger.  Instead, she was running behind him, nipping at his sides and hindquarters and biting him more harshly when he attempted to turn back toward the mares. 

Diablo clearly wanted no part in Zephyr’s ploy.  As I approached, he bucked and aimed a massive kick right at Zephyr’s head, which she barely managed to evade. 

This looked bad.  If Zephyr wasn’t able to coax the maddened stallion away from the ranch, the situation would deteriorate into a full-on fight – and if that happened, my horse didn’t stand a chance. 

Diablo whinnied and bucked again, and I saw the end of the chain flip through the air.  It smacked Zephyr in the side.  She let out a sharp, pained grunt, but didn’t move away from the stallion.

As the chain swung back down, it wrapped itself around one of Diablo’s front legs.  He squealed and tried to shake it loose, but he was running too fast and extended too far.  He went down hard; Zephyr, running as close to him as she was, had to jump over him to avoid his flailing hooves. 

Diablo was already struggling to rise; the fall didn’t seem to have caused him any permanent damage.  To my surprise, I found myself feeling relieved.  Even after all the trouble he’d caused for me and the ranch, I still didn’t want to see him hurt.  He’d been through enough. 
Zephyr walked over to the stallion and loomed threateningly above him, her ears pinned back and her eyes daring him to move.  He didn’t try to get up again, even when I approached him and lay a hand on his iron bridle. 

My fingers found a buckle and began worming it loose.  There was no question of whether or not I would take the bridle off; it seemed likely to me that the constant, unremitting pain from the iron was what had made the stallion so aggressive and unpredictable to begin with.

I undid the last fastening and slipped the bridle off of Diablo’s head.  It came away heavy in my hands, matted with fur and crusted with blood.  I grimaced in disgust and laid the bridle aside. 

A light came on in the barn behind me, causing both Diablo and Zephyr to snort in alarm.  “Get out of here!” I called to the stallion, moving back to let him stand. 

Diablo heaved himself to his feet and looked at me for a second with an expression that somehow conveyed gratitude before wheeling and running down the drive, past the silhouette of the bronze unicorn, and out to the freedom of the open range. 

Zephyr and I watched him go in silence.  Then, I turned to her.  “You have to go too,” I said softly.  She snorted and shook her head at me. 

“You’ve got to,” I insisted.  “If my dad sees you, he and Ian will hunt you to the ends of the earth.  You’ve got to leave now, or it’ll be too late!”
Zephyr’s ears pricked forward, and her dark eyes met mine.  I felt a strange shiver run between us, an almost-communication of all the things left undone, the things I still wanted to say. 

She touched my face with her muzzle, and then galloped into the night. 
I stared after her until I felt my father’s hand on my shoulder.  “Are you okay?” he said.  “What happened with the horses?  And where’s Ian?” 
“It’s a long story, dad,” I sighed.  “Can it wait until the morning?” 
“Sure.”

------------------------

I never did get around to telling him the story of what really happened that night – at least, not the whole truth.  I told him enough to convince him that Ian would be better off working elsewhere, once he was released from the hospital; he wasn’t seriously injured by his fall, but hopefully his concussion would keep him from chasing after any more Nightmares for a good long while. 

Zephyr’s disappearance was harder to explain.  I told dad that she must have somehow opened her stall door in the confusion and bolted into the wilderness.  We searched, of course, but my horse had taken my warning to heart and vanished without a trace. 

I was glad.  Nearly a month had passed since the incident – she and Diablo could have been halfway across the country by now, if they wanted.  They were never coming back. 

I knew it was the truth.  But that didn’t stop me from looking out at the ridge every night. 

 “Emma!” called my dad.  “Did you sweep out the barn like you said you would?” 

“Oh no, I forgot!  Sorry,” I responded, setting my book aside.  “I’ll go take care of it.” 

The weather that night was beautiful.  The moon was full, and a light breeze was blowing off the ridge.  The yearling foals were the only thing ruining the mood for me.  “Stop it!” I said to one big chestnut colt who tried to push past me when I opened the pasture gate.  “What’s wrong with you all?”

The colt turned his head toward the ridge and whinnied, a low, anxious sound. 

I followed his gaze and saw something that made my heart soar – the flickering mane of a Nightmare, rearing into the sky like a whirlwind of fire.

I could do my chores later. 

My horse was waiting for me. 

-Swellish