When the Fire Goes Out...

The crackling of fire transmuted into a hiss of dying embers with the toss of a bucket of water. The ears flicking out of the water, way back in the reeds, didn’t miss the sound. The merry band was winding down for the night, most of their whiskey drunk.

As their chuckles faded and snores grew the ears moved closer, rippling the deep reflected starry night. A head slowly emerged from the water, nostrils snorting steam. An older force than these sleepers knew raised her muzzle from the water. Hair streamed down her green black mane. Her hooves were silent on the sandy banks as she pick her way through their little camp. Their own horses whinnied in fright or snorted territorially. The quieted under her steady emerald gaze. They knew the Kelpie, knew this had been her domain since before the tallest oak in this forest was a sapling and that her name if she still had one was an ancient thing, not spoken in years.

Three horses but four sleeping figures. The Kelpie turned to examine the specimens that had happened upon her shore. Three men and a woman. The woman had a mop of brown curls and a bow lay within her reach. Her hand extended toward it as if she knew danger was near and already reached for it. She was curled up herself in the strong arms of a man who could have been a brick layer, a circus strong man or some more dark profession that required a strong hand. The Kelpie would not mettle with a man protected by so fierce a woman. A round man, in every sense of the word, lay at the other side of the dying fire pit, cradling a near empty bottle of ale. Not her taste and mayhap too heavy. But the last…hadn’t there been a fourth?

The clinking of a bridle sounded his position and she turned her head slowly. Ah, there he was. Young and slender with yellow hair down to his shoulders. One of the mares whinnied again.

“Peace, Rosemary,” the young man said. “We have a new friend here.” He spoke in a gentle velvet voice and clicked his tongue reassuringly.

“She’s trying to warn you,” the Kelpie said. He froze then but that was the only indication he gave that anything was out of place. Surely time and experience had taught him how to keep a straight face and accept the unusual and unexpected.

“From what?” He smiled as though they were old friends. She turned and walked toward him.

“Do you care for these horses?”

“I do,” he stated, very matter of factly. The blue eyed mare snorted and tugged at her lead.

“You care for them well. She is most protective of you. Is she…’yours’?” It had been a long time since the Kelpie was so bemused.

“No,” he said. “None of them are ‘mine’.”

“Do you know how to ride?” She considered the bridle in his hands.

“Why don’t you come find out?” His smile was daring but it teased her imagination knowing what he didn’t know. She took a few more steps closer and lifted her head imperiously.

“Do you wish to ride?”

He lifted the bridle as if to put it on her.

“You do not need that,” she turned her head with a disgusted sniff. “It would not hold and I have no wish to pretend with you.”

He considered a moment and then despite the cream mare’s warning of stomping hooves. He threw away the bridle. The Kelpie smiled and turned so that he could mount. He alighted with a grace she hadn’t quite expected and grabbed a handful of her mane. The mare whinnied plaintively. The Kelpie looked up at the man knowingly, daring. He looked daringly back and kicked her with his heels. She let out a triumphant neigh as she charged toward the bank and dived into the water where the pseudo sky of stars swallowed them whole.

She dove straight down, slipping through the lake weeds. Luxuriating in their soft slippery touch along her flanks. How long could her rider hold his breath? That was the game now. Whatever he thought he was getting himself into he was literally in over his head now. She chuckled to herself emitting small air bubbles. It was so nice that after all these years in her own company she could still make herself laugh. A tug on her mane signaled the first attempt to direct her to the surface. She paddled along ignoring him. He might hold on for a little longer before attempting to break free and swim up on his own. That was when the riders encountered the terrible realization that a kelpie’s skin is sticky. Then he would start to thrash and flounder in desperat-

A sharp pain in her sides startled her and she felt a tug on her mane again. He wasn’t leaving. He was directing her to return to the surface like a common horse! She tossed her head and gave a piercing roar that was like no sound a land horse could make. He kicked again and squeezed her sides insistently. She bucked. She dove deeper into the pond, twisting and spinning in the water, dragging him through the lake weed and then kicking up, up, almost to the surface to give him a moment of hope. He held on all the while. She couldn't wrestle a single muffled scream from him. He wouldn't give up precious air but instead held on as if he had all the time in the world to drown at his own leisure.

Enough of this! she thought and shifted. The stickiness of her pelt no longer held him as she changed. Her face shortened and her golden eyes centered over a wide mouth full of sharp teeth, her front hooves splayed into long webbed talons, while her tail and back hooves steered her upright in the silty water, made even murkier by the long dark hair that swirled around her face and shoulders. She faced the hapless rider, terrified now, surely, with a toothy grin. Now she would see the terror in his sky colored eyes, he would try to swim for shore and she would drag him down and tear him apart, leaving his liver to float on the surface.

Except there was no fear in his eyes. If anything he looked perplexed, annoyed even, his golden hair haloed around his face as he tread water. He reached out and gently touched the full length of her nose. After a moment of hesitation she snapped at his fingers but he drew them away. Not fully, only enough to not be bit. A bubble of air escaped his mouth. He watched it rise a moment and then nodded toward the surface. Was he asking her permission? Had humans become more stupid since she'd last surfaced? He gave a weak grin and nodded again but waited for her. Curiosity got the better of her and she headed for the surface, he followed.

She studied the rapture on his face as he broke the surface of the water and gasped for air. His smile was brilliant in the moonlight, his eyes twinkled like the flecks of pond water that dripped from his hair and face. He laughed gently to himself and looked at her, in horse form again, watching him a few ripples away. After a few more steadying breaths he swam toward her gently.

"Shall we go again?" he whispered. It occurred to her that he didn't whisper out of fear or even deference but instead because he did not want to raise his sleeping companions. The question was for them alone. She turned her head in the water, considering him as a wholly new thought came to her. When was the last time she'd taken a human lover? Had any of them been this bold? or foolish? or this unique flavor of handsome? Perhaps this lad had some of her own fae blood running through his veins? She glanced back to the shore where his company's campfire had long gone out and back to him with the soul fire that would not be smothered. She smiled at him with her eyes as she decided, "Again."