By the full moon, Chance and Willowlake galloped across the fens, bogs, mires, swamps and all of Water Clan. At first, Land Horse Territory was nothing more than a silvery-peach strip on the horizon. But as they made their way through the mud and rangy cypress, the strip spread and widened, into a silver-kissed canyon painted in yellow, orange, and red, a blue river running in the bottom. Grass thinned to sand, then rock, spreading out in a wide set of box canyons and gullies.
They stopped on a rise, looking out across the network of canyon passages and flat valleys.
“We’re in Canyon Band’s territory.” Willowlake whispered, her voice filled with awe. “I’ve never been this far west before.”
“Neither have I.” Chance lifted his head, surveying the land beyond the canyons. A white strip in the distance marked the start of Salt Flat Band’s territory, and beyond that would be the gentle mesa hills belonging to Mesa Band’s territory, the farthest western point of Equinox.
“What do you suppose is beyond Mesa Band’s Territory?” He asked.
“I heard from the Legends that there are creatures called centaurs in the Far West. Half Beasttamer. Half Horse. Hydrequids, too, living in an underwater castle.” She shook her mane.
“Don’t be silly.” He snorted. “All of the Hydrequids joined the Shakiran army. And Winglesses don’t exist.”
“Beasttamer, Wingless, call it what you want.” Willowlake swished her tail. “I heard that full-blooded Beasttamers live in another world, and in the past, traveled to this one.”
Chance cocked his head. Before now, he had taken Willowlake to be very down to earth, not believe in nonsense like centaurs or non-evil Hydrequids. “What makes you believe these tales?”
Willowlake lowered her eyes. “I learned about them from my Nursemare. It was only when I told my father these stories that he took her away.”
It did make him stop for a minute and think. What could be beyond the Mesa Band territory? Was there something better than the Dawnlands?
But before his mind could suggest the idea that they change course and go to the Far West, a blur of movement in the shadows of the canyon caught his eye. Automatically, his feathers rattled.
“What is it?” She asked.
“Something… down in the canyon.” He whispered.
Willowlake narrowed her eyes, before bowing her head to lower her broken horn towards the shadow. “What do you think it is?”
“I don’t know.” He gritted his teeth and peered at the darkness. A glint of red-brown caught his eye, and as the clouds moved away from the moon, he could see that it was a Land Horse, stuck in the dead end of a canyon.
“It’s a Land Horse.” He said.
“Oh.” She followed his gaze. Her eyes must have been sharper than his, because she suddenly drew back and said, “He’s bleeding.”
“He is?” Chance squinted. “I can’t see anything.”
“I can see it.” She was silent for a bit, green and blue-eyed gaze intense. “He’s bruised too. He’s been in a fight.”
“Well, what do you suggest we do?”
She paused, then shuffled past him, down a small ledge. “I’m going to talk to him.”
Chance scrambled after her. “If you’re going down there, I am too. I could be wrong. It could be a predator.”
Willowlake shook her head. “It’s not.” She spoke as if she knew something else, something deeper.
They made their way to the bottom just as the moon covered the clouds, casting the canyon in murky shadows. There was a sound of scrambling hooves, and Chance flared his wings, rattling his flight feathers. If this was a predator, making himself look bigger could prevent him from a nasty fight.
The moon shifted again, and he caught the sight of white underside markings. He almost assumed it was a fox– the markings were the same– but it didn’t smell of fox.
It smelled of Land Horse. And blood.
“P-p-please.” A nasally, and somewhat husky voice whispered to them from the shadows, with an odd twang in the voice. “M-mercy, q-quarter, whatever you call it.”
“We’re not going to hurt you.” Willowlake said. “Are you lost?”
“Y-you could say that.” The moon moved again and now Chance could see that it was a reddish bay Land Horse, same color as a fox, with a skimpy mane and tail and white patches on his chest and flanks. His body was marred with cuts and bruises and he lifted one swollen foot, barely touching it to the ground.
“What’s your name?” Chance asked, folding his wings and feeling a bit miffed at himself. A Land Horse? Really? They were more harmless than a songbird, cowards that they were.
“I’m Fox. Not a big surprise, I know” He flicked his tail. “You’re not going to hurt me?”
“We came to help. That leg must hurt a lot.” Willowlake moved forward. What was she playing at? A lone Land Horse colt wasn’t worth their time.
Fox tapped the injured leg. “I reckon it does.”
“I know something that could help, if you’re okay with that.” She added.
Fox’s eyes were on Chance, licking his lips submissively. Chance remembered that in Land Horse culture stallion fought against stallion, sometimes to the death. Fox was barely more than a colt, just kicked out of the herd, and Chance was automatically his superior.
Willowlake looked at him, an almost pleading expression on her face. He flicked back his ears. Fox didn’t trust either of them– so what? That wasn’t his problem. What was he supposed to do about it?
Fox shrank back, his breathing shallow. The injuries were bad– it was unlikely the colt would survive long enough to find another herd.
Could he condemn him to that fate?
He clenched and unclenched his jaw, then sighed. “Listen to Willowlake. She knows what she’s talking about.”
Fox seemed surprised at his soft tone. He looked between them. “You’re a Winged and a Magic.” He said. “What do ya want with me?”
What indeed? Chance looked toward Willowlake, hoping for an answer
“To help.” Willowlake said. “If you could follow us, we could get you out of the canyon.”
Why does she want to help him? Was it because that she felt sorry for him? “Knew how he felt” or whatever?
Like anyone could really know how someone else felt.
But Fox nodded and Chance turned toward the ledge and began making the climb up. Willowlake was in the back while Fox staggered along in the middle, slipping on the rocks.
“I’m not as surefooted as I used to be, on account of this hoof.” He snorted.
“No problem.” Willowlake nickered. “Just go slow.”
Chance held back a snort. This was ridiculous. They were really risking their necks for a Land Horse?
He wished he knew what Willowlake’s deal was.
Once they were safe on solid ground, Willowlake turned to the Land Horse. “Just stay very still.” She said.
“What are you going to do?” Fox asked, skittering a bit.
“Just watch.” Willowlake closed her eyes, humming. She inhaled and slowly, her coat beginning to glow. Fox looked as if he wanted to run, but he stayed in place, eyes wide. Even Chance felt mesmerized by the glow. A faint, silver mist flowed from her horn, and like a long snake, wrapped itself around Fox’s leg. It seeped into the gash and swollen flesh, and then laced itself into his other cuts.
When it dissipated, his skin was whole, except for a few bruises. Willowlake weaved and almost fell, looking exhausted. Chance trotted to her, but she shook her head, steadying herself.
He flicked back his ears. She shouldn’t be risking her life for a Land Horse.
He set his leg down, then twirled in a circle. “Well I’ll be… I can’t believe it.” Fox looked at Willowlake with gratitude. “Thank you.”
She nodded, as if she hadn’t just almost passed out. “No problem.”
“So, why are a Winged and a Magic traveling together?” Fox asked. “Last I heard your species don’t really graze together.”
That’s saying something. Chance muttered. “It’s a long story. Why were you by yourself? Aren’t Land Horses scared of being alone?”
“I didn’t have much choice in that.” Fox grumbled. “I was recently kicked out of Canyon Band. Three years, I’ve lived there, and now what am I going to do? On my way out to try to find Bachelor Band– that’s where all of the colts go nowadays. But a cougar dropped on me from above, and if I hadn’t had the good sense to roll onto my back and crush him I would have been eaten by the morning.” He looked at Willowlake. “I thank ya, Magic, for healing me.”
“It was nothing.” Willowlake smiled. Chance huffed
“So, where are you heading?” Fox asked.
Chance glared at Willowlake, hoping that she would get the hint to keep quiet. She ignored him–or maybe she didn’t see– and said. “We’re heading to the Dawnlands.”
Why did she have to say that? The last thing he wanted was for a whiny Land Horse to tag along.
“If they exist.” He butted in.
“Oh they exist.” Fox nodded. “You can’t see it well at night, but during the day if you peer really hard at the North, you see great dark teeth rising from the edge of the world. Those are the Dawn Mountains, and that’s the border of the Dawnlands. Course, as far as I know, only the Mystics go there, if they exist.”
“Mystics?” Chance asked, eyes narrowed.
Fox shuffled his feet. “Ya know. The cross between Wingeds and Magics.”
“You mean Alicorns?” Willowlake asked. “Those do exist. We call them fealletoirs.”
“We just call them Alicorns.” Chance snorted. “So, the Dawnlands are actually visible from here?”
“Yep.” A curious look came across Fox’s face. “I wonder…. Could I join you, on your journey?”
Chance held back a groan. This was just what he had been hoping wouldn’t happen.
“You want to come with us?” Willowlake sounded like she was actually pleased with the idea.
“Well I don’t really have any other choices.” Fox said matter-of-factly.
Chance glanced at Willowlake, hoping that she could see his silent plead to say no.
The last thing we need is a cowardly Land Horse.
But Willowlake just smiled at Fox. “He should join us.”
Fox looked so very hopeful at that. He swished his tail and nickered softly. “I’m in your debt, steeds.”
Chance opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. He’d lost his chance to have his say. “Fine then.” He shook his mane. “Let’s go. Sun will be rising soon, and we’re still at the border of Water Clan.”
Fox nickered again and leapt after them like a silly young foal. “Well, I never expected to get a new herd today.”
“Should our herd have a name?” Willowlake asked, falling into pace with him and leaving Chance with the front. “Like a real herd?”
Chance shivered his skin and resisted the urge to roll. “Maybe we should wait for a few more members.” He muttered sarcastically
“We could be Castout Band.” Fox suggested, his voice tainted with excitement.
“Or Traveler Clan.” Willowlake replied.
“We’ll figure it out later.” Chance grunted, shaking his head.
Fox and Willowlake ignored him and began chattering about names till the sun came up.