Bound (A Faery Story 1)

A shiver passed through Meg. She started toward the river

anyway. The horse turned her head toward the interloper, and for a

moment Meg worried that she would startle it away. Then the gentle

eyes looked right through her, and Meg felt as if the horse could see

to her soul. Now that she was close, Meg could see that there were

flowers woven into the mare’s mane. She had obviously been

swimming in the river because the mane was dripping with pure river

water.

Feeling more comfortable, Meg stepped closer. The horse’s eyes

seemed luminous in the early morning light. It felt like a magical

moment when she held her hand out and gently brushed the horse.

She was surprised to find the skin cold. There was no warmth in the

flesh, but perhaps she was being fanciful. Of course, if the horse had

been wading through the river, it followed that her skin would be

cold.

The horse snickered. It was a sweet sound. She shook her head

and gracefully leaned down, as though inviting Meg to mount her.

“Okay, but I gotta warn you, I’m not very good at this.” The horse

shook her mane. Suddenly, Meg knew the horse wanted her to haul

herself up this way. “I hope this doesn’t hurt.”

Meg wrapped her fingers in the mane, noting the flowers seemed

to be attached to weeds in some places. She managed to get her leg

over the horse’s back and was pleased when she got into an upright

position.

“Piece of cake,” she muttered to herself. Her hands were shaking

as she tried to pull them out of the mane to get a better hold. “Take

me back to my husband.”

Her hands seemed stuck in the coarse hairs. Meg pulled, but they

didn’t budge. She tried to shift her legs. They held fast to the horse’s

flesh.