12. Eva

Chapter 12

Iscream.

Which turns out to be the exact wrong thing to do when you are on a horse and not holding on too tightly. Horsey rears and I scramble to grab on, but it is too late. I fall, hard. So much for being the impressive horsewoman I thought I was... Luckily, the ground is soft as moss from the flowers and the Magus taught me how to fall off a horse without hurting myself—badly. It still hurts. For a moment I lay stunned, the breath and sense knocked out of me, staring at the wide expanse of sky. The ground is blue, and the sky is gray. Would my picture of the world be different if I grew up here?

"Eva!" Theo bellows, breaking me out of my trance.

I scramble to my feet in time to see the fury sprinting away. Its limbs are long, it is as agile as a cat. I can't tell if it is wearing clothes made of flowers or if that strange texture is its skin... One arrow, then another flies past its retreating figure, just missing it. I look up to see Theo sitting tall upon Blacky, his jaw set as he fits another arrow to his bow. My stomach tightens. From this angle, he looks like a stranger, serious, capable, handsome. I could love him, I think.

"Wait here, I'll get him!" Theo shouts, and my stomach drops. Could I love him? How could he be so idiotic as to think it is a good idea to chase after a fury?

"Wait! You idiot!" I screech, "Wait!"

Theo looks down at me, grinning, his eyes wild. "Jeez, Eva, relax. I'm not that stupid that I would leave you here and chase after a fury. I was kidding."

I don't know if I believe him. His muscles look tense, and he is flushed pink. I think he would have gone after it if I weren't here. He may have gone after him if I hadn't shouted.

He keeps talking, "But we do need to get going. That one probably just went to get his friends. They'll be back."

For the past half-second, I had been calming down, but what Theo says rings true. They will be back, and they will be after us. We would be tempting fate if we didn't get out of here as fast as we can.

"Do you need help getting up?"

I look up to see Theo holding his hand out to me from where he sits astride Blacky. He is looking at me expectantly. Expecting me to get up on the horse behind him, making him my little spoon, while he is the big spoon to his dead corpse of a mother.

I should suck it up—Theo has done so much for me, and I am going to repay him by being squeamish about a corpse. But I hesitate.

"What are you waiting for? We need to hurry. We need to find Horsey."

"Umm. Do you think it is all right for Blacky to carry three people—this much weight?" I ask. I can't bring myself to say three people as if a corpse is still a person. I refuse.

"Blacky is a strong horse." The look Theo gives me is one of disgust. He knows that I know very well that Blacky can easily carry the weight.

I grab Theo's hand and he helps me up. But now that I am up, I don't know where to put my hands; I really, really, do not want to touch the corpse. I settle for squeezing Blacky with my thighs and holding on to the back of Theo's shirt with a death-grip (well not a true death-grip, ha-fridging-ha), balling the fabric up in my fists. I can feel his warmth through the shirt. It is a steadying comfort in the face of so much chaos. I lean forward and press my nose against his broad, muscled back, breathing him in, trying to use his smell to hide the stench of the corpse a few feet from me. Maybe I should be more bashful, but I'm allowed to press my face into this man, aren't I? He will be my husband.

I close my eyes. I swallow my vomit.

My thighs are aching from squeezing them into Blacky's sides as we ride on for what seems like hours. I wonder if Theo is going in the right direction. I wonder if we will ever make it to Esseff after being thrown so off-course by Horsey running off. Will the furyies find us and disembowel us? Eat us? Are they enough like humans to make that somewhat cannibalistic? And what is the Magus doing right now? Is he thinking of me? Why did he bother marrying me, if he isn't bothering to follow me? Why did he create me if he's just going to replace me?

It takes me a moment to realize that we've stopped. I blink open my eyes, but the only thing in my field of vision is Theo's broad back. I take the opportunity to open and close my clenched fists and relax my cramping legs before leaning to peer around Theo.

"I want to get a closer look," he mutters.

Blacky shifts uncomfortably beneath us and lets out an impatient snort.

"Let's go," I plead, "Theo, there is no point. Let's just go to Esseff."

It is like he doesn't hear me. He dismounts and, still holding Blacky's reins, leads us towards what little remains of Horsey.

I scramble down after Theo, almost face-planting in the process. It's not so much that I want to see Horsey's gruesome remains, almost entirely stripped of meat, with only the beautiful saddle the Magus gave me still intact, as much as I don't want to be any closer to Patty's stinking remains than I have to be. At least Horsey doesn't stink.

But a breeze rustles, and I realize that yes indeed, Horsey's body, which is little more than a bloodied skeleton, is already rancid. Something is wrong. This is most definitely not right.

"Theo, stop! Stop!" My voice breaks on my frantic scream.

Theo looks at me like I'm crazy. "Jeez Eva, I heard you. You don't have to screech in my ear, all the forest will hear us."

I try to swallow my hyperventilating. "Theo," I say in an artificially steady voice, "This is a trap."

"What—"

"Look up."

Theo looks up and sees what I see: an intricate web of ropes and wooden spikes hanging in the canopy above, poised to fall into whatever dares to disturb Horsey's skeleton.

"Oh fridge," Theo says. "Oh fridge. We need to get out of here."

"Nooo, really?" Now is not the time, but I can't help the sarcasm that shoots out of my mouth like a web from a spider. I don't think I want to be such a wench, but then, why can't I stop myself?

Theo just shoots me a look and clambers back onto Blacky, helping me up behind him.

We are riding in silence for about five minutes when it hits me with a mixture of delight and horror—delight because I finally have a legitimate reason to tell Theo to ditch Patty's corpse, and horror because we have been inviting danger by keeping it this long. "Theo," I say. "I don't think that trap was for us. Didn't you smell how rancid Horsey already was?"

"Yeah, that was weird."

I say, "I think the furyies must have poured rotten liquid or something around to attract even bigger prey—dragons. Dragons must be able to smell rot and are attracted to it."

"Huh, I think you might be onto something there," Theo says. "I guess that means furyies aren't that stupid after all. Interesting."

"I think that crows have been following us too," I point out. "Which may send a signal to furies and dragons that we've got food."

The repetitive sound of Blacky's hoofs beneath us grates at me as I wait for Theo to make the connection himself—that Patty's corpse is putting us in danger—but he says nothing else.

Finally, I break. "We need to dump the body," I say.

"...What?"

"We can't keep Patty's body with us anymore. It smells. The dragons will smell it and come after us. It is too dangerous?—"

"No."

"Patty wouldn't want to put us in such danger just?—"

"Didn't you hear me the first time? I said no."

Theo's posture is rigid. I consider dropping the subject, taking the path of least resistance. I do owe him. I owe Patty too. But then I take in a deep breath and gag from the taste of the air. I see the tiny black flies buzzing in a cloud around us. I might be insensitive, I might be selfish, but isn't it better to be selfish than dead?

"Theo," I say. "We don't have a choice; we need to get rid of the body. I know it is hard for you, it is hard for me too..." I trail off when I realize that Theo's shoulders are shaking as he silently sobs. He knows I am right, but I realize it doesn't matter.

I rub his back in small circles and pray to a god I don't believe in.

Soon, I'm crying too. Horsey didn't deserve to die like that. She was just an innocent horse. She was all alone and afraid, and she didn't know what hit her. She was my horse, she trusted me for so many years, and I let her down. She's never going to nuzzle my hand again, she's never going to chuff while I pet her, frolic happily again, or get herself all muddy right after I brush her.

I lean my face into Theo's back and don't stop my tears or snot from wetting his shirt. The sorrow grips my heart in a vice, squeezing all the juices out, leaving a red, ugly pulp behind. He cries and I cry, but our crying is no duet. We are terribly out of sync. I fear I care more about the death of my beloved horse than the death of the woman who was the closest thing to a mother I'll ever have. I fear what that says about me as a person.

And I miss the Magus.