My timeline here is a little off from the book again. In the book, Sean takes Puck out at night to ride Corr, the same day he asks her if she wants to. I've got a little more time between the asking and the riding, but it all gets back on time for the Malvern Auction ;)
-Luck (2019)
Chapter Fifteen
Sean
Bay is pretty when she sleeps. I've thought so since we were kids. I pillow my head on my hands and watch her chest rise and fall with the gentle rhythm of her breathing. There's no denying I like Bay, but it's an entirely different sort of feeling than what I have for Puck Connolly. Bay is familiar, nearly as familiar to me as Corr. We've been friends for almost ten years, a friendship, she likes to say, born of desperation. I remember the day I first saw her - the day of my father's funeral. She was the only Thisby kid to talk to me at the funeral. She told me she was sorry that I'd lost my dad and that even though she'd lost her mom a long time ago, she understood how it felt to miss someone. For some reason, I answered her, even though I ignored everyone else that day. And then she found me at the Yard later and kept talking and I found that for once I didn't mind the company, so I talked back and then we just sort of never stopped talking, I guess. It was only years later that I realized it was odd that she was at my father's funeral at all. But Thisby's like that. We all live so close to each other that when one of us dies, everyone turns up to see them off.
I chuckle and look back up at the stars winking through the tiny window over my head. Bay, I get. But Puck? Puck is something different entirely. I've never given her a second glance before even though I've seen her around the island a few times. Probably heard her name somewhere before if I stop to think about it. But I feel like Puck's been there all along. Just waiting. Waiting like the sea, calling shush, shush against the sand. If Puck is the sea, Bay is the sand - both comfortable, both familiar, both ever present. And I realize with a jolt that Puck calls to me like the sea to a capall. And there's nothing I can do to resist, even if I wanted to.
In a few short hours, I'll get up and begin my chores at the Yards so I can take Puck for a ride later in the day. My mind strays, calling up an image of Puck's face that day on the cliffs with the wind in her hair. Ethereal and alive, so alive. Puck is something heady, something cool, like a drink from a fresh spring. Like Thisby in autumn. She's feisty and courageous, and not afraid to stand up to her fears, like when she held Corr. But she's also got a head on her shoulders and is smarter than most men on Thisby when it comes to the water horses. She's afraid of them. Like they should be. Like I should be.
But I lost that fear years ago, when I lost my father. When I no longer cared anymore. Perhaps I should care. Perhaps I should be afraid. My absolute trust in Corr could kill me any day, but I wouldn't trade him for all of Thisby. There's something about living in the middle of the current, in constant danger of being swept away, that makes me feel alive. Up until now, I've never had conflicting currents in my life. But now...I feel another, smoother current drag at me, sliding through me in time to my heartbeat. For the first time in a long time, I think there might be reason to keep that one foot on land.
You're a sentimental fool, Sean Kendrick, I tell myself. But never, since the day my dad died, have I felt such a tie to another person. I've always been wild, like the sea, lapping at the beach, forever tugging, never resting, always moving. Always solitary. I take a deep breath. Even here, in my room above the stables, I can smell it—faint traces of salt and blood. Thisby is stained with the sea, painted in blood. Her past is inseparably tied to the ghosts of the men who have gone before me, my father included. I've always thought I'd add my blood to that count sooner rather than later. But now...now perhaps...
"Can you hear me tonight, Da?" I whisper to the stars, though they can't respond. I haven't called him Da since I was a toddler. "I think...I think I've found someone worth living for," I whisper. I close my eyes and hear the sea softly swishing against the sand. I feel his hand on my shoulder, the wind in my hair. I look up into his face that night so long ago before the races. The night before he died. He looks down at me and smiles. The fierce pride in his smile is for me. I slip my hand in his big, strong one and smile back up at him.
And somewhere, in between the dreaming and the remembering, I fall asleep.
Bay
"Are you coming with me?" Sean asks early the next morning. He and I are both in the loft of the Malvern stables, forking hay down into the stalls for the horses. I offered to lend him a hand so he could get his chores done faster to make sure he had time for Puck later today.
"Where?" I ask, even though I already know where. I pause and lean on my pitchfork, swiping a dusty hand across my face.
"To take Puck for a ride," he says, even though he knows I already know. "You could bring Tempest."
I study Sean for a long moment before I speak. I'm not sure why he asked me to go. It's not like he needs a chaperone. And then I realize he's giving me a choice. A way to make this decision mine, not his. "No, Sean, I don't think I'll go," I say. "You offered Puck a ride, not me. If you want to give her a ride she'll remember, it should just be the two of you."
I'm still not sure what I think about Puck, but I can't bring myself to hate her. When it comes down to it, we're too much alike. For now, I'll leave Sean and Puck a mystery. That way, I don't have to decide what I do think about her yet. I wouldn't mind taking Tempest for a run, but Puck needs to see Corr through Sean's eyes. He wants Puck to love Corr like he does. It's a love only he can show her.
Sean looks me in the eye. "Thanks, Bay," he says softly.
I smile. "Just think of what her brothers will say when you show up on your big stallion, asking Puck to go for a ride. I can imagine it now…" I joke. "Oh, Miss Kate Connolly, will you give me the pleasure of stepping up on this capaill uisce for a moment and taking a jaunt across the cliffs with me?" I mock Sean's stiff, formal manner, something that I rarely ever do, especially not lately.
He gives me a tight-lipped stare, but I can tell it's because deep down, he's trying not to smile.
"She's meeting me," he says.
"Oh, I see." I nod my head knowledgeably, hefting my pitchfork once again.
"No, Bay, sometimes, you don't," he says, oddly sober.
I don't laugh. But I don't ask Sean what he means. This is one of those statements that he won't explain.
Sean
The wind tears through my jacket as I stand on top of the cliffs, waiting for Puck. It bites my face, tossing my hair and blowing my collar up against my throat. The distinct smell of November floats in the wind, a harbinger of what's to come. But she's early; there's still another week and a half of October. Another week and a half for the riders to tear each other to shreds in training. Another week and a half to die.
I'm so close to the edge of the cliff that the toes of my boots hang over empty space. The beach and the ocean stretch out below me, vast, immeasurable. The sand teems with the shouts of riders, the high screams of capaill uisce, and the admiring yells of the tourists.
One push is all it would take. I'd be over the edge. It's a several hundred foot drop to the beach below. For a precious few seconds I would fly. Just like when I ride Corr. For one insane moment, I wonder if it's worth it. Those few seconds of freedom for the price of my life. The rocks call my name. The wind sways me, whispering death in my ear. It promises peace, but I know the wind is false.
And then, over the treacherous whisper, I hear something else. Something louder, more constant. Something truer. The heartbeat of Thisby herself. Pounding hooves, racing blood, the wind tearing across the beach, and a red-headed girl on the back of a dun-colored pony. And I know I am anchored. Thisby holds me like a mother holds her only child. I can never leave. She knows this. Her blood runs in my veins.
I close my eyes and throw my head back, letting Thisby carry me away. Throwing my arms away from my body, I sway lightly with the wind to keep my balance. Behind me Corr shifts in the grass and snorts. He steps closer to me. I keep my eyes closed. I trust Corr. I trust Thisby. A mother wouldn't kill her only child.
A few moments later I hear footsteps. I don't turn around. The steps are soft, light, nothing like the heavy tread of the men around the Malvern Yards.
Puck Connolly. I keep my eyes closed, leaving her to Corr. Corr shifts to face her and I listen with every fiber of my being to his movements. Despite the relaxed tilt of my shoulders, I'm alert for any sign from the stallion. I'm ready to burst into action at any second and tear him away from Puck. But he stays close to me, whinnying curiously.
Puck shifts in the grass, scuffing her foot against the ground. She clears her throat, loud enough for me to hear it, but she doesn't speak. I wait long enough to let her think before I turn around. She looks at me, eyebrow raised and puts her hands on her hips. She knows I ignored her. A smile tugs at my mouth and I'm surprised to find that I have to fight to keep it hidden.
"Well?" she asks, tapping her foot on the ground. It's a motion meant to show exasperation, but it also cleverly hides her fear.
"He's waiting on you," I say, gesturing to Corr.
"Of course," Puck huffs as if she knew that all along, but I catch the shift of her eyes, the quick dart of her tongue over her lips as she takes in Corr's size. She hesitates slightly; she's still nervous. Then she walks up to Corr.
"He's just like Dove," I murmur.
"Only a lot bigger," she retorts, but I can see the wonder in her eyes.
I shrug.
Puck comes around to Corr's left side. I already approve of her easy familiarity with him. She reaches toward his back, as if to mount, but then pulls her hands back. Corr is a lot taller than Dove, a lot taller than Puck is used to, and, without his saddle, she has nothing to hold onto to mount. She glances around her. She can't mount straight from the ground as she might can with Dove.
I step up silently and lace my fingers for her. She looks as if she's about to refuse, but then she nods her thanks and steps into my hands. My shoulders tense as I take her weight, but she jumps lightly, her weight barely tugging at me. Puck is light and agile, like some kind of autumn fairy, born of Thisby herself. A Queen as she sits on Corr's broad back. She gathers his reins in her hands, pulling them taught but not tight. Corr snorts; he knows that it isn't me on his back.
"Easy, boy," I whisper to him, rubbing a circle on his shoulder, even as I trace a half-circle on the ground in front of him with the toe of my boot. "Sidestep him a little, Kate," I say. There's the smallest pout of her lower lip as I say her name, then she nods and prods Corr with her knee. I have enough practice that I could mount Corr without a rock, but not with Puck already on his back. It usually makes Corr a little antsy. I need Corr on his best behavior today. For Puck. She nudges Corr over to a nearby rock on the cliff edge and to my surprise, Corr follows her direction. I spring lightly up behind her.
I'm not sure where to put my hands. Smooth as Corr's gait is, I can't stay on without holding onto something. But I'm not sure what Puck would think if I wrapped them around her waist. I'm hyper-aware of how close we are. Her hair brushes my face. I can feel the contour of her shoulders through my thin jacket, leaning lightly into my chest as she shifts into a better position on Corr's back. She really is a pretty girl. I shake my head and bring myself back into the moment. I leave my hands by my sides.
"Take him out, Puck," I say, her name springing to my lips without thinking this time. She smiles and nods, her face lighting up when I use her nickname.
She lifts the reins and taps him, but Corr shies and steps in place. Her posture takes a more determined stance and she tries again. Corr backsteps this time.
"My circle," I say to her.
"What?" she asks, turning her head to hear me better over the wind.
"My circle," I answer, leaning back to get Puck's face out of mine. There's a flicker of disappointment in her eyes when I do. "He won't go through it. Go around." I motion with my hand, just in case the wind steals my words again.
Either way, Puck understands and takes Corr around my half-circle. He walks out with high steps, nervous energy coursing through every fiber of his being. I shift my weight in time with his steps to keep my balance. He wants to run. I put a steadying hand on his flank. He shudders under my touch, but he checks himself—barely. I don't think Puck realizes what raw power she holds in those slender reins.
I let Puck keep Corr at her pace just long enough to get used to his gait. I can feel Corr's pent up power coursing through me, hot like fire. If I hold him back any longer, I'll burn. I lean forward, my face next to Puck's ear.
"Give him his head," I say.
She turns her face slightly; I can see the question on her lips before she even opens her mouth.
I wrap my arms around her and tangle my fingers in Corr's mane. "You're safe," I promise. And I mean it.
Puck's heels barely touch Corr's sides before the stallion explodes, all the raw, feral strength of the sea in every muscle. Corr flies.
I free one hand from his mane to tuck Puck's ponytail into the collar of her sweater. My fingers brush her neck for a second. Her hair is soft in my rough hand. She laughs, leaning low over Corr. I lean with her, putting my hand back in Corr's mane. Puck's sides rise and fall against the circle of my arms with her breathing. Nearly lost in the beat of Corr's hooves, I feel Puck's heartbeat, strong, steady. Free. Alive.
We are one, the three of us. The wind sings in my ears. Corr's hoofbeats match the rhythm of my heart. I twist tiny knots into his mane with my hands, my fingers working deftly in his rough hair. Puck sways easily with Corr's smooth gait. I sway with her. I take a deep breath, inhaling her scent—horses, the sea, and something sweet that I have no name for. The smell of Thisby. I close my eyes and let the wind take me. I don't want this moment to end. I want us to ride, the three of us, forever.