The Gift Horse's Mouth

    The rest of the night passed uneventfully. Sean woke to the sound of birdsong and light streaming through the blind’s open doorway. The fox that had warmed him in the night had left before dawn, leaving him a pile of droppings in the corner as a parting gift. Sean propped himself up, wrinkling his nose at the smell.

    “Well, thanks for doing your business away from me at least,” he said to himself.

    Gathering his meagre belongings to himself and tidying the blind up as best he could, Sean was nearly ready to continue on the road when he heard the sound of hoofbeats outside.

    Two thoughts warred against each other in his mind. On one hand it could be someone dangerous, like a bandit, coming to camp out like he’d done the night before. On the other, it might be someone from a nearby town that could give him directions, they might even be the rightful owner of this blind. Or it could be some combination of both.

    He shrugged, deciding to risk it, and walked out to meet whoever owned the horse.

    To his surprise, the answer turned out to be no one. On the cleared trail leading up to the blind stood a riderless horse. It was jet black and looked like it had just stepped out of some kind of horse shampoo commercial, with a glossy coat and a flowing mane blowing lightly in the cool morning air. Sean took a hesitant step forward and reached a hand out, palm up.

    “Well hello there! Who do you belong to?”

    The horse tossed its head, whinnying, and stepped forward to sniff the flat of his hand. Sean reached forward to brush his hand against the side of… her – he decided after taking a quick glance – head.

    “That’s a good girl. Yeah, I’m sorry I don’t have any treats to give you, but you’re awfully pretty. Someone’s clearly taken great care of you.”

    Sean made sure to keep his voice light so as not to spook the animal. It did occur to him, though, that this horse’s owner might be dead or injured not very far away. Whoever or whatever might have done that could be close by as well. Or the mare had just escaped from a farm nearby given the lack of tack.

    “How about it, miss, do you want to show me where you came from?” Sean looked at the horse, wondering if he could ride it to where he needed to go rather than walk with it. The prospect seemed dubious, he’d never ridden before. He wasn’t even sure he could climb up without hurting himself or the horse.

    The horse, seeming to sense his hesitation, sidled over to a large rock. It nuzzled the rock and looked at Sean with one big, dark eye.

    “Wow, I guess you want me to give it a shot, eh? Alright, Let me try.”

    Sean walked over and climbed on the rock. The horse stomped the ground a little, moving itself to facilitate his mounting. Sean was just about to make the attempt when a deep voice projected from the trees above.

    “Among the people of Aiane, Successor, riding this particular horse would be considered most unwise.”

    Sean looked up and around, nearly falling off the rock in the process.

    “What the hell? Who’s there?”

    A raven, bright white except for its black beak and talons, swooped down to land on a branch near Sean’s head. It cawed once and then coughed, clearing its throat. “I am-“

    “A right pain in the arse is what you are.” A woman’s voice cut the raven off, coming from the horses mouth. This time Sean did fall off the rock, taking an involuntary step back and landing flat on his behind. “Here I was, about to take this one for a nice, leisurely ride, and you come and warn him off!”

    “I” the raven began again, ignoring the horse, “am Corvane, goddess-given advisor to the Successor; namely you, young man.” The bird bent its head and moved its wings to imitate a formal bow. Sean’s pendant warmed against his chest comfortingly, a sign he took as confirmation of the raven’s words.

    Sean got back to his feet, dusting himself off and keeping a wary eye on both bird and beast. “Alright,” he said, “thanks for the warning, Corvane, but why? What’s wrong with the horse? You know, beyond the fact that it talks, but I don’t think you should be casting stones at that particular glass house.”

    The raven swung its wing in the mare’s direction. “That isn’t a horse, lad, it’s a shapeshifter. She’s been tailing you since the castle, with ill intentions no doubt. If you’d have gotten on her back there’s no telling where she’d have taken you – off a cliff, through a river, into a bog, or worse.” It shook its beak back and forth. “Better not to risk it.”

    Sean cocked an eyebrow, “The horse has been following me since the castle?”

    “The ‘horse’s’ name is Flick,” the mare interjected, “and she’d thank you kindly to use it.”

    “Flick, then, nice to meet you,” Sean said. “Is my advisor right? Were you following me?”

    “Well…” The horse’s body turned to mist, a small black rabbit falling out from the cloud and thumping against the grass. It looked up at Sean with its red eyes. “When you collapsed the front of my burrow I was a mite bit annoyed with you, but then you kindly made amends with an offering of delicious nuts.”

    Mist flowed out from the rabbit’s body, obscuring it before clearing to reveal a large black fox. “I thought to return the favor, and get some more of those nuts, by hunting you a spot of dinner. You can’t cook a coney without a fire though, so when you failed at that simple task I generously decided to just guard you for the rest of the night instead.”

    Corvane flew down, settling his weight on Sean’s shoulder. The raven was lighter than he’d expected considering its size.

    “Indeed. And why, pray tell, did you wait in your previous form for the Successor to awake? Why not skulk off back to your den, your good deed done for the decade?” Corvane asked, suspicion evident in his voice.

    The mist returned as the fox grew back into a horse, which shuffled back and forth like a child being scolded for peeking into the Christmas closet. “Well, to be honest, sleeping that close I could smell something different about you. You aren’t like the hunters I usually see tromping through the forest. They reek of mud and iron, but you’ve got the scent of a newborn babe fresh out of your mother’s womb. On a man your age that’s interesting! What’s your actual name, anyway?”

    Sean’s instinct was to shake hands, but as the addressee in question was a horse he settled for waving awkwardly, “It’s Sean, a pleasure to meet you Flick.”

    “Charmed,” Flick said, moving back to stand near the mounting rock. “Anyway, there hasn’t been anything interesting in these parts for absolutely ages. So, now that introductions and interrogations are out of the way, what do you say you hop on my back and let me take you wherever you need to go? I guarantee it’ll be faster than walking on those two sticks you call legs.”

    Sean’s eyes flitted to the raven on his shoulder. “What do you think, Corvane? Do you still think she’s a danger?”

    “Yes,” the raven replied gravely, “but only to your dignity. Do whatever you think is best.”

    Sean nodded and climbed onto Flick’s back. The horse, to its credit, stood perfectly still even beneath his fumbling attempt. When he was settled, she turned her head to look at him. “Settled? Where do you want to go?”

    “To the nearest settlement, please. I’d like to find a warm bed and some food as soon as possible.”

    “Grand. The village of Greenbough’s no more than a few miles from here, so we’ll head that way.” A note of mischief crept into the horse’s voice. “Better yet, I know a shortcut. Best hang on tight and keep low.”

    Before Sean could protest, he found himself being carried at speed away from the beaten path. Corvane leapt from his shoulder with an indignant squawk and followed horse and rider as they blazed their own trail through the deep forest.