Wildwood

8. Sometimes The End Comes First

Sometimes The End Comes FirstI run through the open gate and down the hill, doing my best to ignore the way the swaying trees and the bursts of lightning cast moving shadows across the wet grass. This part of the pasture is nearly fifty acres across. Any sign of Harbor has been swallowed up by the dark and the rain.

A twig snaps nearby. I whirl around. My gray horse is standing by a tree, regarding me with wide eyes. She paws at the earth, and then crab steps, craning her neck.

“Hey, girl,” I murmur, doing my best to not scare her off. She snorts, and steps in my direction. Finding her was the easy part. Now I have to figure out how to catch her and bring her back into her stall with no halter or lead rope.

I peer back at the barn. Lucas is standing in the mouth of the main door. He brings his hands to his mouth. A roll of thunder drowns out whatever he’s yelling.

Without warning, Harbor rocks back onto her back legs, and rears.

“Easy!” I step closer to her, keeping myself at her side so she won’t land on top of me. She touches the ground for a split second before going up again. She strikes out this time. Her ears lay back and she bears her teeth. I chance a glimpse behind me. Horror charges through my body as I lock eyes with a massive, black cat solidifying from the shadowy dark. It slinks toward us, belly low, tail long and twitching, shoulders and hips sunk and ready for release.

I smother a gasp and clinch tight to Harbor. She hops sideways, wanting to take off. The air around us builds. A strange, heavy vibration saturates the air, and a buzzing sound builds from the ground. The moment before the pitch reaches an impossible frequency, thick blade of lightning slices through the sky and strikes the top of the barn. Sparks spray in every direction.

“Tanzy! Run!” Lucas’s voice bellows over the pasture.

Panic floods me, making my body feel springy and buoyant. In a single motion, I propel myself onto Harbor’s back and swing my leg over her side. Harbor scrambles forward as I struggle to find my balance. It's been a year since I've ridden, and her back is awkward and foreign under me. There's no time to acclimate. The creature opens its jaws, and lunges for Harbor’s back leg. A scream catches in my throat. Harbor spins and bucks, kicking the beast square in the chest. I cling to her mane as I right myself as best I can.

I dig my heels into Harbor’s side and let out a shout. Instead of moving forward, Harbor leaps sideways and twists in the air, nearly slinging me off her back. I clamp my knee onto her withers and pull myself back to center. Harbor spins again. Why won't she run? She rears nearly vertical. I throw my arms around her neck and stare down at the ground. Another creature is pressing us from the side. The first creature is closing in from the front.

“Go, go!” I yell, blindly urging Harbor into motion. She whirls away from the direction of home and gallops deeper into the woods. The two creatures cackle at each other as they fall in line behind us. I want to look back at the barn, desperate to check how the barn came through the strike, but I can’t risk a fall. We rip through the trees. The pasture fencing is somewhere up ahead, reinforced with steel mesh and over five feet high. With no clear place to take off or land, jumping may be more dangerous than whatever is chasing us through these woods.

I fight to ignore the feeling of being trapped, clinging to Harbor’s back and neck as she pushes herself faster. Harbor sees the fence in time to make a hard turn to avoid crashing into it, and then gallops flat out alongside it, finally able to stretch out on the clear path. A dark streak gives chase, staying cloaked in the shadows of the trees to our right. Harbor’s ears swivel back and forth, listening to it close in. I concentrate on the steady rhythm of air blowing out of her nose like a freight train. Her head flings back, nearly cracking me in the face. I cry out as another black creature leaps at us head on, claws outstretched and huge jaws open. Harbor stumbles and then gathers.

“No!” I scream as Harbor launches herself sideways over the fence. I wrap my arms around her neck and squeeze my eyes shut as my left leg crushes between her sliding body and the fence rail. Sounds of splintering wood fill my ears.

Her legs buckle on the other side and her body flips above me as we roll across the hard earth. Blood and sweat are hot and salty in my mouth. I feel no pain, and though I’m sure I’m screaming I don’t hear it.

Harbor’s labored breathing sounds somewhere ahead of me. I try to call out to her but no sound comes. Have to get up. Have to keep moving. My body writhes in agony as the air slowly returns to my lungs. My eyes train on the gaping hole in the mangled fence. The lion approaches, mouth open, red tongue flicking over its teeth. My brain commands my body to move, but my right leg won’t answer. One of my hands is trapped under my body, and is covered in something warm and wet. A low hum builds in my ears. The ground trembles. I lift my head. The rain begins to turn silver. The darkness is lit with platinum, and a bolt of lightning crashes down.