These two events (Puck taking notes on the riders and Sean quitting) happen backwards to the way they do in the book. He talks to Holly, then Puck, then quits. I started writing this scene and then realized it was out of order, but I really liked what I had, so I left it that way. After all, this is fanfiction…
Chapter Ten
Sean
The wind blows across the cliff, sharp, biting, and cold, promising the storm I sensed last night. I pull the collar of my jacket up to my chin and keep walking. Any other year, I would be down on the beach right now, flying with Corr, laughing at the other riders who thought they had a chance. But today I want nothing to do with the beach because it will only make me think of the blood-red stallion that should be mine. My mind wanders back to what I told Malvern just hours earlier. I quit. Those two little words have just nulled the past nine years of my life. Nine years of spending everything I had grasping at something that stayed tantalizingly out of my reach. Nine years of chasing what I thought would make me happy. And now it's all gone like water through my cupped hands. My life slips away like the sand on the beach when the tide rolls out and I am powerless to stop it. What shook me most was Malvern's casual indifference when he let me go. I mean less to him than the capail uisce that stand in his stable. I can't describe how I feel, but it certainly isn't any of the emotions I expected. I don't feel powerful or free. I just feel small and alone and empty. I need something to hang onto before this sea drags me away. Something solid. Something like…Puck Connolly?
My thoughts are interrupted as I look up and catch a glimpse of Puck huddled on the edge of the cliffs, desperately hanging onto a wind-tossed sheet of paper. She holds a pencil in one hand and what looks like a stop-watch in the other. Despite myself, a half-hearted smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. Perhaps George Holly was onto something this morning when he probed me about Puck. Puck hasn't noticed me yet, so I head towards her. Despite the ponytail over her shoulder, her red-gold hair still blows around her face. She looks like the very spirit of Thisby itself. Not like Peg Gratton in her fierce bird costume, but like Thisby in autumn colors—free and light and wild. I walk up behind her and crouch in the grass. She looks up and the expression on her face is startled, like I'm the last person she expected to see.
I notice some numbers she has scrawled on her paper. "Those are wrong, you know," I say.
Puck looks down at the paper with a somewhat guilty expression and quickly covers it with her hand. It's not like she's hiding anything from me. It's too late for that. "Excuse me for trying, Mr. Kendrick," she says coldly.
That's not how I meant my words, and I realize how condescending they sounded. "The riders will push their mounts much faster the day of the race," I explain to Puck. "What you get now won't be accurate."
She shrugs, but I watch her thumb start the stopwatch again as her eyes follow Ian Privett and Penda across the sand. "Why aren't you down there?" she suddenly demands, looking back up at me.
"Too crowded," I mutter, my eyes roaming the beach for a distraction. It's a lame excuse, even to her. Still, she doesn't push me for an answer even though I know she wants to. I steer the conversation onto a less painful subject. "You'd do well to keep an eye on Penda. Ian Privett is a good rider and that grey's fast. Faster than that," I say as we watch Ian and Penda gallop across the sand.
Puck looks at me with a mixed expression. Three parts confusion, one part interest. Or perhaps it's the other way around.
I continue handing out advice. I don't know why I'm doing this. I feel the need to talk, something that's completely foreign to me. If I'm silent, all the emotions I've stuffed down in my chest will catch up to me and spill over and I won't understand them. And, if I'm honest with myself, I want Puck Connolly to have a chance. "Tommy Falk's mare isn't a leader—she's motivated by the chase. Best she's not chasing your horse." Puck smiles at me. She knows I called Dove a horse on purpose. I pause, and my eye catches the piebald.
Puck follows my gaze. She draws a sharp intake of breath, "I already know to stay well away from her," she says, shuddering at what I can tell is a vivid memory.
"And her rider," I murmur as I watch Mutt spur the piebald viciously. She prances closer to the sea and he whips her head back to shore, forcing her feet to follow. It's a dangerous dance he's in and you wouldn't get me in it for the world. Unexpectedly, I feel a hand against mine and something warm and sticky is pressed into my fingers. I tear my eyes from the piebald only to settle them on Puck's face. She's handed me a November cake from the festival last night. She holds a second cake in her own hand and there's already a generous bite taken out of it. She smiles as I take a bite out of my cake. We eat for a while in silence, wrapped up in our own thoughts.
"I hear your brother is going to the mainland," I say eventually. I don't know why, but I want to see Puck's reaction.
"Yes," she answers stiffly.
"And you're not?"
Puck looks at me for a long moment before replying, "No." She shifts her gaze to the horizon. "I could never leave Thisby," she finally adds, so quietly I nearly don't hear her.
"Why do you stay?" I ask.
"Do I need a reason?" she returns. "Why do you?"
"The sky and the sand and the sea and Corr," I answer automatically. I've been asked the question many times before. But this is the first time that I wonder if my answer is true.
Puck looks me in the eye as she says, "That's a pretty answer, Sean Kendrick, but it doesn't suit you."
She doesn't know how true and devastating her words are at the moment. Puck's statement shakes the very foundation of what I've built my persona on. It's like standing in the sea when the water suddenly throws you down, dragging at your feet and washing over your head. You know the sea wants to drown you, and there's a rope somewhere if you can only find it. I grab the quickly unraveling threads that remain to me and stand up. "Thank you for the cake, Kate Connolly."
"Call me Puck," she insists, sounding hurt. In my mind, she is Puck Connolly, but my mouth just won't say the name yet.
As I turn away, I catch one last glimpse of Puck's face. Her lips move as if she wants to say something and she looks like she's struggling to call the right words to mind. When she doesn't speak, I continue walking and soon I'm too far away for her to call me back.
Bay
As Sean predicted, a storm hits Thisby in the afternoon. On an ordinary day, after finishing my deliveries with Selkie, I'd go inside somewhere to watch the rain with a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Today I'm on the cliffs with Tempest when the rain starts, but I decide to stay. The race will go on in any weather short of a hurricane, so it's smart to see how Tempest reacts. Capail uisce can go wild in the storms, but not wild with fear, wild with anticipation and hunger. If Sean were out here, he'd be watching me with a tight-lipped frown and narrowed eyes as I ride Tempest closer to the cliffs. But he isn't out here and I trust Tempest. (And it's not like he wouldn't do the same with Corr.) I also want to prove to myself that I'm a worthy rider. After the conversation I overheard last night, my confidence needs a boost.
The rain begins as misty shreds that wrap around my face and tangle in my hair. With a shiver, I pull my hood over my head and sit deeper in the saddle. At least I'd had the presence of mind to grab one of dad's old oil coats on my way out the door. It's a bit big on me, but the heavy canvas will keep me dry for a while. The wind sharpens and Tempest throws his head into it, picking up his feet in excitement. For the moment, I give him his head. I'm too distracted to pay much attention anyway.
There's a lot going on before the races and I feel like my life is being altered by forces beyond my control. If I don't hold onto the way things used to be, then it will all change and I will be forced to change along with it. There's already something different about Sean. I don't know what it is, but something tells me it's Puck's fault. Honestly, I have nothing to hold against her, but I can't bring myself to like her either. Maybe it is because of her statement about Malvern the day that Sean showed her the uisce mare. Maybe it is because she beat me to declaring herself in the Races twice now. Maybe it is because she's riding in the races. Maybe it is because…
Maybe it's because you're just jealous, a sudden thought pops in my head.
Me, jealous of Puck Connolly? Why would I be jealous? I inwardly scoff. What does Puck have that I don't? Well, actually, Puck has a lot that I don't. Puck has a family that cares about her. Like a lot of kids on Thisby, she lost her parents to the capaill uisce, but her brothers still live with her and they're both alive and well. I've heard that the older one is going to the mainland, but it's probably to get a good job to send money back to his younger siblings. And even if he leaves, she's still got another brother to keep her company. I don't even get the luxury of getting along with the one parent left to me. To me, Puck's life seems simple, uncomplicated. I don't know why she'd need to ride in the races—she seems to have everything she needs already.
And on top of that, she's getting a little too close to a certain dark haired Scorpio Races champion. I can't pretend Sean doesn't notice her. Deep down, I'm afraid that if Sean gets too close to Puck then he'll leave me behind. All my life, he's been my escape, but perhaps it's just a friendship forged from desperation and a lonely childhood. Will it hold up if it's tested? I don't know what I'd do if I lost Sean. If I'm honest, I've always been proud of my relationship with him. I'm the only person on the island who ever got close to him after his father died. All these thoughts bring darker questions to mind that I don't want to consider. I shake my head, dislodging the thoughts like the raindrops that collect on my hood. The rain falls harder now and the cloud cover is so thick that the island is almost cast in twilight. It's time to head back.
Looking up, I realize Tempest is trotting down the path to the beach. My heart beats a little faster. The path is too narrow for me to turn Tempest around now. I'll have to wait until we're on the beach, closer to the ocean and any riders or capail uisce, before I can turn back. I pull an iron rod from my pocket and tuck it in my hand just in case. My lips automatically whisper to Tempest, but my mind has no idea what my mouth is saying. I shiver. The wind whistles through the passage, whipping my wet hair across my face and neck. The rain cuts cold against me, soaking into my jeans, despite the oil coat. I grip Tempest's reins tighter and squeeze him with my knees. Above all else, I want him to know that I am still on his back and I am in control. At least, that's what I tell myself.
I wish Sean were here. I would feel more comfortable with his steady presence and Corr's strong, muscular body to impose between myself and danger. Then I shake my head. Isn't this what I've been waiting for? The chance to prove myself against Sean? This might be it. I draw my shoulders back and sit tall in the saddle, despite the driving rain. Perhaps it's stupid, but I urge Tempest into a canter and burst out onto the beach. Unexpectedly, a flaming tongue of lightning strikes out in the ocean, only a few yards off Thisby's coast. Instinctively I draw Tempest to a stop so hard that he rears, throwing wet sand from his hooves. I must admit, what I had hoped to be a casual entrance to the beach turned into something dramatic and flashy. Unfortunately there were still a few riders on the beach, among them Mutt Malvern, and my entrance did not go unnoticed, least of all by him.
"What was that, Fisher?" he taunts from farther down the beach. "Practice for when you win the Scorpio Races?"
"Maybe it was," I reply haughtily. I'm in no mood to deal with Mutt now.
"Better be rethinking your plans then," he sneers, as he goads his piebald mount towards me. Skata. "We all know I'm going to win."
"After you've lost for the past four years?" I demand.
Mutt growls something incomprehensive and unpleasant. "I'd watch my tongue if I were you, Fisher. After all, Sean Kendrick isn't here to protect you this time."
I cast a quick glance around the beach. The few other riders on the sand are, for the most part, too busy with their own capaill uisce to pay any attention to me and Mutt. Unfortunately, in this case, Mutt is right. There's no one down here to save me if this comes to a head. Tempest dances restlessly beneath me. He's uncomfortable this close to the piebald mare. Up close, she's a demon with a sharp face and cruel eyes. I can tell that, despite Mutt's outward confidence, he's barely keeping the mare under control. In the worsening weather, his grip on her will only weaken.
"It isn't me who needs protecting," I say, but I'm referring to more than our spat. I'm referring to the vicious animal between Mutt's legs. Mutt doesn't catch my inferred warning.
"Is that right?"
I don't answer. Instead I back Tempest a step or two away from Skata. Tempest is all too willing to comply. For a capall stallion to be this concerned over a mare means she really is wicked. Mutt notices the action and urges Skata forward.
"Scared, Fisher?" he asks as Skata tosses her head, her sharp teeth snapping just inches from Tempest's face. A warning thrum emanates from deep in Tempest's chest. Mutt laughs.
"Back your horse off, Mutt." I scowl. I'm glad that my voice is steady and sounds more angry than afraid.
Mutt grins evilly and presses Skata forward again. Tempest instinctively backs away, but he's backing into a corner. I wasn't very far from the cliff passage when Mutt first rode up to me, and now, because Tempest has backed away and to the side, my back is to the cliff wall. The passage to the top is off to my left. Sharp cliff walls stretch to my right and the piebald mare looms, close and threatening, right in front of me. I'm afraid that if she keeps pressing Tempest, he will fight back and I know that, no matter how much we think of ourselves, neither Mutt nor I are experienced enough to pull them apart if it should come to that. Tempest stiffens beneath me and snaps back at Skata as she advances.
"Back your horse off," I say again, this time with a note of urgency bordering on panic in my voice. I don't care if Mutt knows I'm scared now. If he isn't, he's an idiot.
"You don't look so good," Mutt jeers. "If Skata is too much for you, maybe you should pull out of the races. After all, there'll be a lot more capaill uisce on the beach come race day."
It's not just Skata that scares me. If she were on her own, it's very possible that Tempest could outrun her or, if he had to, outfight her, but with Mutt on her back, goading her on, she's a lot more dangerous and temperamental. Tempest can sense Skata's actions and react accordingly, but with Mutt exercising even what little control he does have on her, he throws an unexpected element into the equation. As her rider, he can make snap decisions and cause Skata to take a direction that might not be her natural instinct. If he does that, Tempest's natural reactions could be thrown off. It's up to me to watch Mutt and gauge my instructions to Tempest from his movements. I decide to try a simpler approach and back down.
"Look, Mu—Matthew," I try to be as polite as possible. "All I want to do is go home. I don't want to pick a fight with you. I'm not interested in staying here any longer than I have to. Will you please just let me go?"
"Oh, really?" Mutt laughs derisively. "That's not what it looked like earlier. No, it looked like little Fisher here was trying to show off her big, impressive new horse. That's what it looked like to me." Mutt is nearly yelling now, as if I'm not right in front of him and I can't hear him. "And I say, if it's a show she wants us to see, then it's a show we'll get!"
Without warning, Mutt launches Skata towards Tempest. At the same moment a jagged flash of lightning rips the air over our heads, momentarily blinding me. Tempest springs forward, whether to get away from Skata or to meet her head on, I can't tell. I grip his reins tightly and squeeze my legs around him to keep my seat. Mutt's laugh echoes off the cliffs behind me. The next thing I know, Tempest ducks under Skata's vicious bite and runs, sliding us out toward the open beach. I gather the reins and my wits and spur him toward the sea. The sea. The most dangerous and the safest place I can be - because I know what kind of danger I will face there.
Like the idiot that he is, Mutt follows me into the surf. If it were me on that piebald, I wouldn't take her anywhere near the water, even on a calm day, much less in the rapidly approaching storm. Already the wind howls around us and thunder rolls across the sky, lightning hard on its heels. I turn Tempest in a sharp circle, away from Mutt and back towards the beach, but he cuts me off. Tempest dances backwards as Skata suddenly thrusts her sharp teeth in his face. He lashes back at her. She doesn't recover fast enough and he bites down across the narrow ridge of her nose. Skata screams and pulls away, wrenching herself from Tempest's jaws. Tempest lets her go without a struggle. He was warning her, but she pays it no attention. Blood drips down her nose, but Mutt doesn't care. He laughs as lightning flashes, momentarily lighting the beach as bright as day.
"You know, Fisher," he yells. Even though we're close to each other, I can hardly hear him over the rain stinging rain and the thunder. "Accidents happen during training. This beach is painted with the blood of countless riders before us."
I feel a cold twist of fear settle in my stomach and I'm sure it shows on my face despite my efforts to keep my features neutral. Mutt wants to make me another 'accident.' A casualty of training for the races. I know Mutt's not one to shy away from violence, but how far exactly will he go? An accident might just mean laming Tempest or hurting me so I can't ride. But it could also just as easily mean killing me or Tempest. He obviously thinks I'm a threat to him and he wants to eliminate me. A steely resolve settles on me. If those are Mutt's intentions, he'll find that I won't go down without a fight. But however this ends, it needs to end quickly. The beach behind us is empty now, any remaining riders having left while we scuffled. We have only minutes until the capaill uisce will climb from the sea, blood-thirsty and on the hunt.
Mutt leaves me only one option. It's time to see if Tempest can outrun Skata. I back Tempest up, preparing to give him room to get a head start on Mutt and make a dash for the cliff trail when Skata suddenly lurches toward the sea. Tempest starts forward immediately, exploding into a gallop from a dead standstill. He leaps out of the surf and hits the sand running. Halfway up the beach I hear the piebald scream and I rein Tempest in. He sits back on his haunches as I draw him to a stop. Tempest whinnies at me as if to ask if I'm crazy as I turn him back toward the sea. Maybe I am crazy, but there was something in the mare's scream that sounded dangerous and deadly. Something that warns me that if I don't intervene, it will be the death of Mutt. And much as I dislike him, I can't stand by and watch him die. I gallop Tempest back down the beach and into the surf again. Skata is out in water nearly to her chest. Water breaks against her, splashing Mutt up to the waist with each wave. And then I hear it. An answering call to Skata's scream. I have only seconds to get Mutt back on the beach before the capaill uisce come out of the water.