Preface

Dawn is just starting to break when I see it.

The black water brushes against the shore, whispering of the power it holds. A faint shimmer of dark skin under the rippling surface catches my eye and my breath. My heart thumps hard. For a moment there is absolute silence, a pause in time itself, as I anticipate what is about to happen. There is a shift in the air, and I feel its presence.

The water horse pushes its head from the sea, mane slick on its dappled-grey neck. I see jet black eyes rolling in a storm-grey face, wild and dangerous, the eyes of a predator. The water around seems to shudder as the capaill uisce stomps its hooves through the surf, and tremble as the creature exhales in one slow breath. Nostrils flared wide and breath cloudy in the morning air, the capaill uisce makes half circles with its hooves on the damp shoreline as it marches restlessly.

Every muscle underneath the smooth coat is tense and ready. I can almost smell its eagerness on the sea breeze; it wants to run, and it does. I watch with tight lungs as the beautiful, horrible monster gallops at full pelt from one end of the shore to the other. Hooves pound the compacted sand, churning up a long, winding track. I stay still on my perch- a slippery seaweed-covered boulder- and try not to breathe. A wind picks up and stings my eyes, but at least it is not blowing in the direction of the capaill uisce, the direction in which it can catch my scent.

A few strands of sunlight streak across the water horse, now slowing to a canter and shaking its head restlessly. It snorts and slows, snorts and slows, snorts and slows. It seems like a century until the creature comes to a halt, standing square and giant on this tiny beach, ears pricked and tilted towards the sea. She is stunningly beautiful, so gorgeous that it is clear she is of no origin of dry land, and she knows it. No earth-bound creature could possibly possess such fierce beauty. Lean and powerful, she is proud in her assertive stance, still attentive to the ocean.

That is when the wind changes.

It turns on me, blasting my hair forwards and across my face, whipping the brunette strands out of place. I watch in horror as the capaill uisce's head snaps around to glare at me with stone-cold eyes, square pupils dilated and filled with hunger. It happens too fast. I see the water horse stomp its feet and shake its head and catch my scent. I feel myself spring to my feet and wince when I realize my mistake.

The capaille uisce charges.

Every instinct screams at me to run, run as fast as I can, but it is the worst thing to do. The mare curls her lip back, baring jagged predatory teeth, and screams, paralyzing me to the bone with her deadly song. I feel the ground shake with the beat of her hooves and her wild heart, and I can hear the blood rushing in my ears as I stare at the crazy animal. Although I know I am going to die a painful death, she is so beautiful that it doesn't matter. Nothing matters.

I am knocked to the ground, pain exploding all over me; it takes me a minute to realize she has trapped me beneath her front hooves. I dare to steal a glimpse into those ferocious eyes, the last thing I will ever see. Those dark, feral eyes, lovely and awful at the same time.

I barely have time to blink when she rips my throat out.