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I turn back to the ocean, and the wind throws sand in h to offend but not to hurt I sirl circles her pony through the water again I have to appreciate that she’s chosen the only place she can be sure that no one will approach her today Of course, it’s not just the capaill uisce on the beach the girl has to worry about, but I can tell that she’s already considered that She glances toward the curve of the incoine that she’d be able to see a hunting capall uisce -- when they swim parallel to the breakers, fast and dark beneath the surface, they’re al

So; he’s been trampled or thrown or bitten He sounds resentful or surprised Did no one tell hi in and watered with our blood?

I watch the girl’s hands on the reins, the certainty of her seat She can ride, but so can everyone on Thisby

"I’ll bet you haven’t seen that before," says Gorry’s gritty voice "Their clothes don’t colance at hih to see that he still has the piebald er so that he sees that I a at how he still has the piebald mare, and then I look back to the ocean There is a knot of fighting horses in front of us, growling and pawing like to sharply Every water horse on this beach is hungry for the sea, hungry for the chase

I glance at the piebald ain Gorry’s knotted her halter with copper wire, which does nothing but look impressive

"She’s entered in the races," Gorry says He’s sirl in the surf with his cigarette "On that pony That’s what they’re saying"

The ss worse than the wind She means to race on that pony? She’ll be dead in a week

The piebaldout of the corner ofher teeth That bridle’s her curse, this island her prison She still smells of rot

"I can’t sell this mare -- thanks for that," Gorry says "Your expert opinion, heh" I don’t knohat to tell him When you traffic in monsters, that’s the risk you run, that you’ll find one too ain, and I look away fro to find the sound with my eyes It is not myof horses, but there’s a sharp urgency to the sound that calls to s on the breeze, throws echoes off the sheer white cliffs There are tooto prove theet faster They haven’t discovered yet that it’s not the fastest who make it to race day

You only have to be the fastest of those who are left

Suddenly, there’s a shout and a terrible screa whinny, and I turn in tiray stallion as it leaps into the pounding waves Blackwell rolls narrowly out of the way of another pair of spooking uisce mares He’s older, defter He’s survived a half-dozen Scorpio Races

"And you thought this , but I’ hireee horses, but they’re all teeth and hooves One of the men tries to tear them apart, but he’s too cavalier There’s a snap of blunt teeth and just like that, his fingers are gone So else,else to say

My eyes flick beyond all of them to the water to where Blackwell’s stallion half leaps, half swi white beneath hiirl on her back

I hear a wail, and at first I think it is a scream, but then I hear my name "Where’s Kendrick?"

So down by the cliffs, out of the way, and I begin to run, heels digging deep into the sand I can only be in one place at a tiht on the beach is out of my control In the surf, the dun pony is chest deep in the water and the white stallion rears before her, hooves slicing doard the girl The girl jerks the duntheid water

And that hat the capall uisce, a fearful dull Pegasus with disintegrating wings of sea foareat head sirl as her head cos kick in preparation for his dive I aers nuh this perilous water,beloater and clawing her way back up

I draghairs of his tail I straddle his back and grab a handful of mane as I make my way up his neck There is no time to trace the outlines of his veins with iron or push hi I could whisper in his ear There is only tirip a handful of death-red holly berries from my coat pocket and to press thes slash convulsively through the water, and I see one of his knees glance off the girl’s head I can’t see if she stays above water, though, because now the stallion is snorting, seaweed and jelly and bits of coral all spewing fro and his death throes, it’s taking allunderwater with his toward me, wide open, and I see, in a suddenly frozen moment of time, the coarseness of the hairs on his jaw and the way that salt water has beaded along them

My vision explodes into one thousand colors, not one of theht returns, and with it, sensation: the girl’s hand pullingof ocean inin the water, the surf kicking his corpse toward the beach The dun pony stands on the sand and whinnies to the girl, a high, anxious sound There’s blood in the water and blood there on the sand, too, where theh I can’t tell if it’s to solicit hs but no water coh her eyes are fierce

I’ve killed one of the beautiful, deadly capaill uisce that I love, and I’ve nearly died, and a fever is racing through irl is "Keep your pony off this beach"

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

PUCK