The faster we went, the more I hunched against my mare’s body, my chest against her neck, my knees tight against her flexing front quarters. I stole a glance back. Glooscap was coming up behind me, his big stallion’s head pumping back and forth as if it was helping him build momentum. Brodan’s riderless mare ran alongside.
As I rounded a bend on the trail, Simon came into view ahead of me. He was off to the side, looking back over his shoulder through a fall of white blooms drifting in the breeze, millions of them in the morning light. When he realized that I wasn’t slowing down, he urged his stallion forward. I reached him and we both raced along the trail, side by side, Glooscap closing the distance behind us. Suddenly I felt a feeling of weightlessness, and the thunder horse, my mare, lifted off the ground. I glanced down to make sure I wasn’t mistaken, and sure enough we were two, maybe three feet off the ground, galloping on nothing but air. I turned back. Glooscap’s stallion was also airborne, only a few horse lengths behind me. It felt like there was a shift in time, and we were moving faster.
We rounded a curve and the others were there––Colby, Anna, and Tabby––on the trail. They were in a cluster looking back, unsure whether they should keep going or wait for the rest of us to catch up. I waved them onward. They took off and started riding hard, and in moments they all too were off the ground, all moving at breakneck speed. And there were no sounds of hooves, no ground rumbling underneath, only huffing and panting, and boughs brushing against boughs as the breeze from our Pegasus-like flight buffeted them.
My body was shaky from the adrenaline coursing through it. I’d been in enough tussles over the years––since my father left, since bouncing around from town to town––to know that feeling, or as old ranch hand Jerry liked to say, “When the primitive man awakens.”
My thoughts raced. We’d faced a band of attackers, and one of whom killed Brodan right in front of my eyes, another almost killing me. And I might’ve actually killed someone too, with my own two hands. I’d thrown that spear in self-defense, not sure of the outcome, not sure if I would actually hit the shadowy figure that I knew was a man, flesh and bone. I couldn’t recall taking aim, but I must have. Otherwise, I was certain right then that I would’ve been dead, laying back there on the trail with a spear sticking out of my belly, or my head caved in, or maybe a hole in my heart from one of Rooster Hair’s obsidian knives.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to slow down my racing thoughts.
I wasn’t sure how long we rode for, our two groups separated by a few horse lengths. Eventually, the thunder horses all began to slowly descend, as though they sensed we were no longer in danger. A similar shift in time happened, only now we slowed down. We had ridden them hard, so hard that by the time we stopped, they were completely lathered in sweat. Everyone was out of breath, horses and riders. Anna looked the worst, her complexion waxy, and all the blood drained from her face. Both Simon and Colby’s eyes were wild-looking. They nervously scanned the surrounding forest, like they expected something bad to happen at any moment.
After everyone had a minute to catch their breath, Tabby said, “What just happened?” Her voice was wavering.
No one spoke up. Glooscap was looking back down the trail.
“Is he dead?” said Anna, sniffling. Her face was streaked with tears. “Brodan, is he dead?”
I was sure they’d seen Brodan hit by the spear, but not finished off by Rooster Hair. I wondered if any of them had ever seen someone murdered before, or even seen a dead person.
“I couldn’t stop it,” I said, and turned away, feeling waves of guilt wash over me.
“No one could have,” said Glooscap.
“This isn’t supposed to be happening,” said Anna. She began to shake her head. “They said it was safe, the journey to see Ambrose.” She looked from face to face as if she hoped someone would agree with her. “It’s supposed to be safe, right?”
“No guarantees any place safe,” said Colby in almost a whisper. “Better believe that––life’s cheap in some neighborhoods.” He was barefoot. Obviously, he hadn’t found his shoes. “All I know is that asshole we tangled with will be drinking through a straw for the next eight weeks.” He fist-bumped Simon. “He smelled rank like a city dumpster on a hot day. Man, he’s a nasty bastard.”
“No, he smelled like rotten meat,” said Simon.
“Maybe they mistook us for someone else?” said Tabby. “That could be it, right?”
“That’s stupid, and you know it,” said Simon.
“They were Wendo braves, stalkers, led by Dejunga,” said Glooscap. “They never journey this far north unless . . .”
“Unless, what, man? Come on, finish whatcha gonna say.” said Colby.
“Unless hunting for something . . . or someone,” said Glooscap.
Colby scoffed, shaking his head. “I knew it wasn’t right––from the beginning. I knew something messed up was gonna happen. And here we are. Everything’s all messed up.”
“Look,” I said, “we might’ve gotten far enough away, but let’s not take any chances. Let’s keep riding.”
Everyone was silent.
“Are you all right?” said Anna.
“I’m fine,” I said, and gave my mare a pat on the neck.
The horses were still skittish. Glooscap looked from person to person, double-checking to ensure everyone was okay. Then he focused on me.
“Never do that again,” he said, almost yelling. “You listen to me. You go when I tell you to go.” Even in the early dawn light, I could make out sweat running down his face. He seemed unsure of what to do next. We were so awash with emotion from the initial attack that the shock of the thunder horses leaving the ground seemed insignificant. No one even mentioned it.
“Come on, guys, let’s go,” I said.
“How much farther to Ambrose’s?” said Simon.
“We will reach it by nightfall,” said Glooscap.
“What about Brodan?” said Anna, glancing back down the trail.
“Yeah, we can’t just leave him back there,” said Tabby.
Glooscap exhaled loudly. “If he is there when I return, I will take him home.”
“If he’s there? Why wouldn’t he be there?” I said.
Glooscap shook his head and looked down at his stallion’s mane, as if he didn’t want to answer. “The Wendo . . . the Wendo do things.”
“What kind of things?” said Anna, her voice high.
“Oh, nononono . . . nonono, no frigging way, man,” said Colby. “I knew it––cannibals––I knew it!”
“What about Cawop?” said Simon. “Where’s Cawop?”
“He did not return from his watch,” said Glooscap.
“His mare was gone,” I said. “He must’ve come back.”
“My purse is gone,” said Anna. Gucci was absent from her side. “Do you think he stole my purse? Why would he steal my purse?” I remembered the way Cawop had been fixated on her purse in the longhouse.
“That’s just great,” said Colby, kicking up his bare feet. “He came back to steal her purse, steal my shoes and socks, run off on his horse. Safe trip, no problems. Man, I’m sick of this place. Birds the size of airplanes, all sorts of crazy-ass bugs, people chucking spears, cannibal-ass motherfuckers. No saddles. And my balls ache like they’ve been hit with a sledgehammer––what’s next?”
Suddenly, Colby’s stallion reared up, kicking his front legs. Colby soared off his back and thudded to the ground, on his side, air blown from his lungs. Winded, he rolled onto his back. He gasped for air, clutching his chest.
I hissed through my teeth. It hurt. It hurt a lot, and I hadn’t been the one dumped. I got off my mare and went to help him up.
“I don’t need you––piss off,” he groaned, and swatted my hand away, getting shakily to his feet. His eyes locked onto me, and he shook his head. “You all voted Windigo Road––betcha all regretting that now. Should’ve stayed in the city.” He dusted off his backside, climbed onto his stallion, and nudged him forward to take the lead.