The dawn is a freezing, damp thing that struggles to light my room through the haze of thick gray clouds. I set to dressing myself today, grateful to after being hovered over last night. It will have to be heavier articles today for not only protection against the elements but also any aughisky with bright ideas. I choose a wool doublet topped by a brown tunic and leather jerkin tied by my normal sword belt. My breeches today are wool lined as well, tucked under my riding boots. Finally, I add a wide scarf that covers my neck then secure a thick brown cloak lined with animal furs round me before heading straight to check on Falcon.
He smells me (or perhaps it’s his breakfast of freshly butchered mutton?) before he sees me and lets out a scream. I watch him turn circles in his stall, his tail swishing, nostrils flaring. It takes several minutes for him to settle and only then do I open the heavy wooden door, pouring the fine cuts of raw meat into his feed bin. Once he is finished eating, we proceed with his normal care routine. He is anxious, constantly shifting his weight or looking towards the ocean. He knows what today is.
But he is not for sale and I know better than to take him down on the beach until night returns. Instead, I wander down alone, lifting the scarf up over my nose as my boots sink into sand. The weather has not improved but so far any rain has held off. It is just the bone-chilling wind and salty wet air.
On the beach men have gathered by the hundreds, maybe thousands. They are all yelling to be heard above one another, scrambling about trying to mount water horses or otherwise hold them as still as possible. I recognize faces from previous years both riders as well as dealers, everyone dressed in heavy cloaks and hats and scarves. The aughisky scream a terrible chorus with the human voices. It is nothing except complete chaos.
I find a place by a large rock that juts from the sand, a good vantage point to observe many happenings at once. My eyes are interested in a dealer with a particularly wild aughisky. She is a gorgeous animal, bay appaloosa mare with a blanket of leopard spots and one blue eye. But it fights hard, lashing out multiple times with teeth and hoof.
Several riders approach, try to get close to her. She snaps at each, even taking a chunk from one man’s arm who rushes away trying to stop the gushing blood. Then, of all people, I see William Grady make his way over. He is brave, but stupid. The mare rears and tries to strike him with her hooves. He dodges, charges ahead and gets his hands around her bridle. The mare screams as she rears up. I can see it all unfold so slowly then. William’s hands slip and he falls off balance while the mare gets all four feet back on the beach. She screams, rushing for him with a mouthful of sharp teeth.
He’s saved by the dealer who snatches her reins just before her teeth can sink into William’s spine. But it is a short-lived victory before the mare whirls around on her captor. Her ears flatten to her head when I see it in her one blue eye -- there will be no saving this man. In one long stride she reaches him, mouth closing around his throat. His screams are garbled as the blood pours from his neck, spraying onto the mare’s face. She throws his body to the sand before finally letting him go. Men race to the scene, some going for the dying man while others chase the appaloosa.
William notices me at my perch only yards away.
“Help them Callaghan!”
When I reach the men, they have the mare surrounded less than five feet from the sea. They are crying out different methods while she circles rapidly, snapping at them here and there. I shake my head; my heart hurts to see an animal in such distress.
I do not given anyone a chance to make a decision. Instead, I shove through them and move with the mare to keep my body in line with her shoulder. When she stops, I mimic her. My voice softens drastically, whispering in the same way the sea lulls me to rest every night. It keeps his still enough that I can take steps closer until finally, my hands touch her withers. She quivers beside me, breathing hard with one corner of her eye locked upon me. One hand grabs a piece of her mane while my mouth moves against her skin. I inch my free hand up her neck, reaching carefully for her bridle. We walk slowly the handful of feet to the water before I pull the leather from her head. Someone behind us yells. I don’t care. When the tide hits the mare’s hooves I step away, let her gallop into the water, watch her until the waves finally take her back from where she came.