Dark Horse Read Free

wiped her palms on her leggings and moaned like a wounded animal. The tears burned in her head, but her eyes remained dry as she stared glassily at the ground. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs.
    "Father, I'm sorry," she cried. Above her, the moon followed its unseeing path and a damp, chill wind swept through the hil s. Beyond the gul y came the sounds of bickering wolves from where they were tearing at the bodies of their dead.
    After a long while, the fire died down and the phantoms faded from Gabria's mind. Moving like an old woman, she stoked the fire, then curled up in her cloak. She fel asleep, borne under by the weight of utter exhaustion.

    * * * * *
    A horse neighed, strident and demanding, above the hoof beats that thundered over the frozen ground. Half-seen forms of mounted men careened past to set their torches to the felt tents. Swords flashed in the rising flames as the attackers cut down the people, and scream after scream reverberated in the mist, until they blended into one agonized wail.
    Gabria started awake, her heart pounding as the cry died on her lips. She clutched her cloak tighter and shivered at the dream that stil clouded her thoughts. A horse neighed again, angrily. The unexpected sound dispel ed the nightmare and brought the girl ful y awake. This sound was no dream.
    She stiffly sat up and blinked at the Hunnuli. The mare was watching her with obvious impatience.
    Gabria realized the sun was already riding above the plains, though its warming light had not yet dipped into the gul y. The chil of the night stil clung to shadows, and frost flowered everywhere, even on the mud-encrusted mane of the trapped mare.
    Gabria sighed, grateful the night was gone and the wolves had not attacked again. With infinite care, she eased to her feet, convinced she would shatter at any moment. Every muscle felt as if it were petrified.
    "I'm sorry," she said to the horse. "I did not mean to sleep so long. But I feel better." She gently stretched to work out the kinks in her joints. "Perhaps I can help you now." The mare whinnied as if to say "I should think so," and a wisp of a smile drifted over the girl's face. For a moment the smile lit her pale green eyes, then it was gone and the pain that had dul ed her expression for three days returned.
    Sitting by a newly built fire, Gabria emptied her pack onto the ground. There was very little in it that would help her to dig a gigantic horse out of the mud trap: only a bag of food, a few pots of salve, a dagger of fine steel that had been her father's prized possession, an extra tunic, and a few odds and ends she had salvaged from her family's burned tent. At the moment, she would have traded it al for a stout length of rope and a digging tool.
    She sat for a time, totally at a loss over what to do next. Finally, she walked around the pool and considered every possibility, while the mare kept a cautious eye on her. In the daylight, Gabria could see the mare had none of the fine-boned grace of the Harachan horses Gabria was accustomed to. The Hunnuli's head was smal in comparison to her immense neck, which curved down regal y to a wide back. Her chest was broad and muscular and her shoulders were an image of power. There was granite in her bones, steel in her muscles, and fire in her blood.
    "Well," said Gabria at last, hands on hips. "There's only one thing I can think of now. Food."
    She laid the contents of her pack on her cloak, rol ed it up, and set it aside. Then, with her knife and empty pack, she went in search of grass. On the hil top she paused to watch the sun climb the flawless sky. It was going to be a lovely day despite the early season. The wind had died, and a fresh smell of new growth rose from the warming land. A few patches of stubborn snow clung to the sheltered hil sides, but most of the winter's snowfall was gone.
    Before her the foothills fell away into the valley of the Hornguard, a broad, lush river valley and the favorite wintering place of