The Selkie’s Daughter Read Free Page B

could never live within her heart knowing she had left someone out in a storm this ferocious.  She lifted the heavy wooden bar across the door and set it aside.  When she pulled the door open, the winds rushed in, whipping high the flames in the fireplace.  She glanced to the writhing light, recalling the face from the dream. 
    The deep-throated neigh of the horse drew her attention back outside.  Snow swirled so thickly she could not see, but then the driving flakes parted and there stood a magnificent destrier.  Annys blinked as she saw it was without a rider.  “Poor beastie.”  She could shelter it in the small barn.  The old byre had room enough for it to stay with the cow.  Their shared body heat would see them have an easier time this night.
    As she started out, Meone fell in step behind her.  “Stay here.  Despite your black color, it would be too easy to lose you in a snowdrift.”  Obeying, the feline circled back to the hearth.
    Annys closed the door and ventured into the storm.  The snow was deep, nearly reaching her knees, the winds piling drifts high around the outside of the small house.  Walking was hard. 
    As she approached, the grey animal turned its head to the side so he could watch her.  No ordinary horse, it was a knight’s destrier.  A beautiful creature, the thick mane and tail were nearly white.  As her steps drew closer, it nodded its head up and down, the tresses undulating to the point it seemed born of this shuddersome storm.
    “Where have you fetched yourself from on this bad night?  Mayhap you are a goblin steed of the Unseelie Court ?”  Annys had never ridden a horse, never had to care for one.  The animal was daunting; thus, she was just a bit scared of the massive creature.  “A pact, eh?  You will no’ harm me, and in return, I will give you some oats and a place to be safe from the snow.”
    The horse nickered again, the guttural murmurs in his throat bespoke urgency.  She reached out and started to take hold of the reins hanging around its shoulders.  Then, her eyes were attracted by something on the ground: an arm tangled in the stirrups!
    “Our lady have mercy!”  A man!  Unable to tell if he was still alive or not, she leaned closer to judge his state. 
    Even in the strange, shadowy half-light created by the snow, she could clearly tell he was a knight and one of some worth.  His horse was of the finest blood, a belonging that warriors valued above all others, and he was clad in a heavy mail hauberk that came just to the tops of his legs.  A small gasp escaped her as she spotted that an arrow protruded through the slit where front and back were joined at his hip.  A second shaft of wood stuck out from his left shoulder.  Looking back at the wake where the horse had dragged him, she saw no blood trail.  Fortunate for him.  Wolves would have closed in on the scent and he and the horse would never have stood a chance. 
    Her trembling fingertips brushed his cheek.  He was very cold, but the flesh was still soft.  Cupping her hand over his neck, she waited to feel his blood saying he lived.  At first, she felt nothing.  Just as she feared that he was past helping, the faint throb moved under her hand. 
    He still survived!  But not for much longer, unless he was warmed and treated. 
    Annys glanced back at the cottage.  The task of getting him inside was daunting.  Used to doing all the chores necessary to survive, she was a strong woman.  Only, he was a tall man, plainly a warrior, which meant he was heavy with muscle and carried the extra weight of mail on his frame.  Her stomach rolled, anxious she might not be able to drag him inside, or worse, in the struggles ran the risk of injuring him further.  Glancing back to the horse’s head, she pondered if the animal would permit her to lead him into the house.  The door was small, but if the beast kept its head low, he would just fit.  Would the animal accept her commands and not