The Horse

I awoke in the warm surf, sea water biting my eyes, sand and salt dried in my hair and on my face. I sat up in the shallow water, the gentle ebb and spring lapping around me. I looked around me and saw no other man, save for the dead one. The last I remembered was the storm that had flung our ship through the waves, before it turned over into the dark. The shards of wood surrounding me likely meant I wasn't simply unlucky enough to be thrown overboard, but likely that the ship and crew were gone as well. As I tried to stand, my legs nearly gave out, as I noticed just how dry I felt. My skin had turned red and my mouth to a desert. I half crawled to the body perhaps twenty feet to my left. I needn't check for a pulse, there was no head or neck to place my fingers to. I knew him, though, by the tattoo on his shoulders, those of serpents wrapping around his arms. His name had been John and we had served on the same ship, but there was nothing I could do for him now. The canteen on his hip helped me, however. Now that I had water, I needed something to eat, some shelter, and a way to fill the canteen when it emptied, at least until I built a signal fire.

I looked away from the sea and toward the inland. The foliage of the tropics stood before me. I walked into the great green of the island, enjoying the shade of the overlying canopy. I wandered aimlessly for hours before I found something edible. A coconut tree, and a rock to break them open. After treating myself to the sweet flesh of the coconut, I let my eyes rest as I contemplated what to do next. How likely I was to find something useful in the wreckage that washed ashore, or how long it would be until a ship would pass near enough...

"Pbbt."

What?

I opened my eyes and found a large horse standing in front of me.

"Pbbt."

It did it again. The horse was a large brown Clydesdale, with a blond mane, the fur around its hooves white.

I tried to pet it, if only to confirm its existence. Surely this is some hallucination, there couldn't be a horse on an island like this. And yet I felt its fur and wet nose. I could feel the warmth of its skin and its breath. Something so familiar about it though I couldn't think of why.

I stood up and walked towards it. It walked closer to me and let me pat its neck and snout. I thought, 'Why not, seems friendly and it'll be easier than walking.'

I wrapped my arm around its broad back, it only looked back at me. As I tried to jump up and place my weight upon it, however, it fled and left me square on my back. As I felt the wind leave me, I could see it stop a bit ahead. As I sat back up, the horse swung its head back and forward, gesturing to follow.

"Pbbt."

Though it might have dehydration or heat stroke, I thought it best to follow. Something odd about following that horse through the jungle, aside from the fact that I'm following a horse through the jungle, was the foliage. It seemed thinner, more inviting, even cooler as the canopy blocked the sun from me in its entirety. The ground was firm, the sand didn't shift with every step, and overall, the walk was quite pleasant.

I followed the horse for a good while, a few hours at least, though I have no idea if we were actually going somewhere or if I was just a madman following a horse as it tried to leave me behind. The horse then did something that it hadn't the whole time I had followed it. It made a hard left. I began to do the same when I heard such a wonderful sound. The sound of the waves, and the shouts of sailors trying to be heard over them, to the right.

I abandoned my friend, though perhaps barely familiar acquaintance would be more accurate, and ran towards the sound that could mean my salvation. I broke though the tree line and saw a number of men pulling a boat ashore, a great ship further out to sea. They were likely here in the hopes of resupplying their water or food reserves.

It was then, looking at my freedom when I realized two things. One, the horse had led me here. When it found me, I was perhaps miles from where these men would have been foraging, but now I was looking at the help I so desperately needed. And two, I realized why the horse had felt so familiar. I knew it. Her name was Nelly, and I used to ride her back home, and I was there when she was put down. It couldn't be her, and yet it could only be her. She had had the same birthmark below her eye.

"Pbbt."

I looked behind me and saw Nelly, or whatever had taken her shape. Her face was close enough that I could not see past to her body. Then the strangest event of my day happened. Two hands wrapped around the side of her face, and took it off. It looked to me like nothing but a mask. And behind it was the face of another. An androgynous form of a person, but with skin, dry and light like the sand. Their hair was strange as well. Long, flat strands fell from their head, green as the palm fronds. But the most striking aspect of the figure before me were the eyes, without pupil or iris, the eyes stared at me, as deep and blue as the ocean. As I tried to speak, they put a finger to their lips, and said only,

"Shhh."

Grains of sand falling from their skin as they did so. Their other hand raised the mask back to their face and before me stood Nelly once again, as she... they... the horse turned into the jungle and walked away again. And as the horse did so, the foliage shifted, concealing until it was no longer visible. I looked to the ground and saw a single footprint. Not mine as the four toes were clearly outlined in the sand. What was that old saying about the fey?