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Black Ice

Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

@arianmabe

Cover art by Orobas

No one could possibly watch the hunger artist continuously, day and night, and so no one could produce first-hand evidence that the fast had really been rigorous and continuous; only the artist himself could know that, he was therefore bound to be the sole completely satisfied spectator of his own fast. Yet for other reasons he was never satisfied... For he alone knew, what no other initiate knew, how easy it was to fast. It was the easiest thing in the world.

Franz Kafka's A Hunger Artist

The musty sweetness and groaning warmth of equine bodies made the stables a haven. Secluded from mundane lives, my meditation was to muck out boxes and grooming paced my thoughts with each methodical stroke of the body brush. Far more time was spent brushing a horses coat than my own scruffy weasel fur, trimmed around the ears and muzzle but unruly for presentation. The stable yard was tucked away on the edge of the forest - the perfect place to forget the rest of the world. Soothing routine dictated 'stable days' and I grew to envy the horses, subject to this rolling schedule. A well cared for gelding had no reason to swish his tail at anything other than his narrow scope of life, sweet hay and cool buckets of water - I was yet to have a healthy horse refuse food. I wanted to live their simple lives.

My parents called their lives the 'real world', fond of their manufactured existence. I could not bear to be in college for longer than the bare minimum, whereas they worked hard and spent the remainder of their time encased within the four plain walls of a council house. My extended schooling, an extravagance for a working class, nondescript weasel, permitted excursions to the yard only on weekends when I caught the seven thirty-five bus from outside the post office. It was a roundabout ride squeezed into too small bus seats with no seatbelts, but one endured, if not happily. More often than not, an elderly lady carved a dent in my skinny side with an enormous handbag, unaware of how their bulk pressed me against the armrest.

My breath frosted in the Saturday morning air as I tacked up the fifteen hands (give or take) bright bay mare, curiously named 'Marnie', brown coat shining with health. She was my favourite, though had a penchant to nip from time to time. I heaved the saddle over her broad back, her breath dispersing into misty droplets as her ears flicked back just the once to acknowledge the weight. Tugging the girth strap around her ample belly, I flinched as my stomach growled in reflex. The mare turned her head, brown eyes kind and dark.

Hunger. Furs as sentient beings were complacent in thinking of hunger and retreating to the clinical squares and counters of the kitchen to sate their bellies. Eating was a basic need and, in the Western world at least, we had no reason to not gorge ourselves upon readily available sustenance. That was not the point of my eating, what little I consumed. It took thought and motion to move the fork to one's lips - a conscious action that could be controlled. I could be controlled.

"Jason? Get on, are you ready or what?"

My reverie was short lived, interrupted by a familiar culprit. I wished she would leave me in my own world upon occasion, Samantha - or Sam, as preferred - that was. The grey squirrel sat astride her weekend loan black gelding, tapping a riding crop against her shiny boot, whiskers quivering impatiently. She was easy to read. Her coal black hair - a result of interspecies mating - fell to the waist, rarely scraped into a ponytail, and her muzzle was breathtakingly angular with cheekbones that cut like a knife: most unexpected for a squirrel. Her eyes drew one in like a clichéd romance novel, set in her face like chips of ice: a pure, clear blue. That was 'my' Sam. She hated her name, a true tomboy at heart. Stumped by the prior question, which had been lost by my mind, I smiled like a goon.

I scrambled up the mounting block in a flurry of activity, fumbling with the reins as Marnie fidgeted, as anxious as the other to get going. My face was uncomfortably warm in the freezing air but I managed to swing my leg over the saddle with some semblance of dignity. Sam's lips curved upwards and she set off before my feet settled into the stirrups. The cracked leather of my boots groaned and I wished too late that I had worked more polish into the grooves so that they would not squeak so embarrassingly. There was much embarrassment to be had in terms of my clothing alone: there was a hole in my jeans and my thick jacket could not be disguised as anything not from a charity shop.

The stables were on the edge of a stretch of forestry that attracted too many tourists during the summer months, not only in my opinion. Alicia, the stable owner, hated every tourist brat that dug their heels into the sides of a tired, hard-working pony as their parents smiled obliviously, plastic to the core. "Isn't my little darling oh so special?" they seemed to say, camera phones capturing every moment in a digital world. Sam and I were lucky that the grey mare, two-legged unlike her riding charges, didn't mind us taking the horses out alone, as long as I paid - Sam's father paid for Leon's loan - and were safe. I was around so often that Alicia claimed to trust me especially, though I wondered how much of that claim was cunning incentive to keep me at the mucking out. Leading the ride, Sam glanced back over her shoulder, hair half-stuffed into the hood of her padded coat.

"So," she said, startling my heart into my throat. "Where are we off to today?"

"Uh..." I swallowed. "We could go round sixty-two, route sixty-two, if you want? It might be bit iced up," I sneezed into my glove, "but, there's no rush, right?" Sam tilted her head in consideration and I hoped she would put the pink tinge under my cheek-fur down to the cold.

"Yeah, that's right... No rush today," she said, returning her attention to the sandy track, grains frozen solid into uneven footing. "You okay to get on a bit?"

Loathe to dawdle, she murmured to her black gelding before I had the chance to respond and he sprang into a lively trot, picking up each hoof with the finesse of a dressage stud. I nudged Marnie with my heels and followed Leon's swishing tail as they picked up the pace, ungainly in my efforts to simply keep up with them. It would not do to fall behind. Sam's position was flawless and I was a kit at her heels, even if Marnie's relaxed stride was as easy to rise and fall to as walking.

Sam passed the wooden marker reading the number 'sixty-two' in scratched, white paint and turned sharply uphill, selecting a narrower track that wound through the bark forest like a snake. Marnie surged onwards without encouragement, flicking up her hooves in a ground covering canter as I snatched a lock of her main, heart thumping. A stray branch overhanging the track slapped my hard hat, scattering pine needles and flakes of frost over my head. Sam laughed wildly, the sound lost among thundering hooves.

The sight that greeted Sam, a good few lengths ahead, at the top of the hill made her pull up sharply. Swinging to the right, Leon scuffled to a halt, kicking up an icy spray of sand in the process. Typical to obstinacy, the gelding ducked his head and backed into a spiky bush, lifting a hoof in offence when a curse burst from his rider's lips. Marnie jerked, dropped to a walk to avoid her obstinate field mate and edged forward, revealing the route below in a blast of golden sunlight.

"Whoa," I patted Marnie's neck, massaging in mindless circles as my stomach lurched, kept steady by force of will. "That's a lot of ice."

"No kidding," Sam said slowly, unexpectedly wordless. As if to conceal some uncertainty, she adjusted the strap of her helmet, tucking it beneath her chin.

Get it together!

I was no stranger to riding during the winter and was well aware of how the forest was prone to flooding. The extent of the frozen flood, however, was jaw dropping. The higher ground, though hard underfoot, was passable, whereas the lower trails were shiny with an icy sheen. It was common for the sandy trails to be framed by a low bank, about a foot or two high, but these trails had filled up with water that would not drain and frozen overnight. Glittering invitingly, I warranted that the ice was only a foot deep at the worst point, not quite clasped in the fist of winter. It was nevertheless intimidating and I knew Marnie never took kindly to treacherous footing.

How wonderful.

"Do you think..." I hesitated. "Do you think we should go back?"

"Hell no!" She looked at me like I was crazy, blue eyes narrowing under the peak of her helmet. "What the hell are you thinking? We can't go back. We've hardly been out fifteen minutes."

I didn't mean that I thought we should return to the stables but take another track instead, though I said nothing. Looking down at my gloves, reins slipped between the third and fourth fingers of my paws, I fidgeted with a stray thread, waiting upon Sam. She already thought me a fool. I did not want to be thought a coward too.

Swallowing anxiety, I followed with trembling paws as Leon and his rider took a zigzag path in decent, keeping to the beaten down grass trail, which lay half-concealed beneath sparkling frost. I wished that I could better appreciate the beauty but my vision was grey and it was a struggle to stay in the saddle - faintness, perhaps. I was rarely confident of specific ailments. Swaying like a drunkard, I noted clouds scudding across the washed out sky, chased by a nippy wind. What was the point of going on? It was going to end terribly, I never did anything right. My stomach snarled and Marnie twitched her ears.

"Is that you?" Sam laughed. Beautiful.

"Uh..." I grunted, stomach and heart colliding. "Yeah, that was me."

"Didn't you have breakfast this morning?" She asked without looking back, focused on her mount.

"No..." I admitted, running a strand of Marnie's black mane through my fingers as I trusted her to find her own path. Sam clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, shaking her head mockingly as her bushy tail twitched with a mind of its own.

"I brought lunch with me," she flashed a grin. "I'll give you half when we get back. I know you never bring food with you."

She was so sweet. It was a shame that I could not share her lunch. Sam snagged a low hanging pine branch with a bare paw, sending a shower of water droplets over my helmet and trickling down the back of my neck. Giggling, she forgot the past exchange as it was of no importance, the consumption of food. Normal furs could not understand. I would eat a little, just for her, but that meant nothing else would pass my lips for the remainder of the day.

We broke into a light canter on a stretch of blissfully solid ground, though grey clouds swept over the sun like an impenetrable blanket, smothering all. I wondered if she would listen to me, if I chanced the honest road. She had never given me reason to doubt, that was true. Yet it would deem me weaker, a beta. Or would it? Questions abounded. A twig snapped beneath Marnie's hoof and I flinched. It was attention seeking to spill the beans - had not all those internet forums, news articles, overheard conversations and cautious probing taught me that? One must not look for attention, or speak of anything - most of all males. Females could get away with it sometimes but not male furs. It equalled death. Dizziness rocked me and I grasped the pommel of the saddle, seeking that hard scrap of reality until my knuckles turned white.

Leon strode confidently on to the thin ice, snorting as his hooves crashed through the top layer, plummeting only a few inches. Water splashed around the gelding's forelegs, soaking his fetlocks, feathers left dripping like a female fur's long hair in the shower, clinging to the cannon bone. The repeated crack of ice breaking and shifting startled a robin from a shrub and his white belly flashed jovially in the sunlight. Perched upon a branch beside a red pine cone, he chirped reproachfully, as if I was the direct perpetrator of his disturbance. I pursed my lips and whistled back, chuckling under my breath at his inquisitively cocked head. The robin's confusion was short lived and he took flight, bobbing and weaving until his red breast was out of sight, solitary song remaining.

Robins were territorial little birds and I supposed he was also subject to loneliness, assuming he was a male without a partner to warm his spring nest. Perhaps he would discover a mate and bob in and out of a woven nest packed with chirping nestlings: companionship fulfilled. He and I were irrefutably alike. I never permitted a soul close enough to hurt, while the robin passionately defended his territory, picking at berries in the cold. This was something to be rectified: I had a choice.

"Hey."

Sam twisted around in the saddle and Leon twitched an ear in equine curiosity. Her muzzle glowed and I caught my breath.

"Penny for them," Sam winked.

"What?" I shook my head, melted ice dripping into my eyes from the peak of my hat.

"Your thoughts," she laughed, the sound echoing eerily in the quiet.

"Oh, yeah, them," I flushed, ducking my head. What could I say now? Stupid, so stupid! Sam studied my profile and shrugged.

"Okay then, whatever," Sam patted Leon's hindquarters and swivelled around. "You up for the jump?"

A scarred log rose into view, foreign in this landscape yet one that we had jumped many times. It was I that had dragged the log from the centre of the path to the side so that it was not so difficult to lead inexperienced hacks on their way; children on ponies found the art of navigation a trial befitting a gladiator. I mumbled to Sam and the sleek squirrel bounced into a springy trot upon her steed, hair bouncing over her shoulders. The shine of her hair was stunning. Why would she ever look twice at an idiot like me? No, I could not become lost in my mind maze. Blindly, I spurred Marnie onward, my field of vision narrowing until I could see nothing else beside the obstacle. Muscles bunched and I borrowed flight for a second in time, Marnie and I an airborne monstrosity.

In half a second, we were bound to turf once more, Marnie snorting and kicking up her heels, behaving like a filly on spring grass. I inhaled sharply and imagined that I was running up to a series of hurdles, horseless, muscles smarting and stomach staggering for a colossal feat: a leap of faith.

I knew Sam well, did I not? Leon squealed, kicked out with his hind legs and Sam merely chuckled, adjusting her position in the saddle to compensate. I mirrored her, flinching as the leather creaked; it so terribly needed conditioning. If I told Sam about my problems, she would help. She had offered half of her lunch to me. Sam would understand. I took a deep breath and sat up tall, mentally placing myself on the back of a warhorse, ready to lead the battle charge. I was prepared, I was strong and yet tense with emotion. Alas, the voice always knew better. The snake behind the glass had woken up. It hissed.

She will never listen to you, the snake whispered, slithering through my mind. Who would ever listen to you? Samantha will laugh. Think you've got a chance with her? Get real, kid. You're a sick joke. Give up now and leave her alone. You'll be doing her a favour.

I've got to try... I tightened my fists until they ached. What if she understands? Then she'll see...me... I'll be open with her, not hiding behind this stupid mask. I'll be real with her. She'll help.

Oh, please, the snake flicked its tongue, unimpressed. The mask is necessary. If you did not use it, then everyone would see how pathetic you really are. And do you want that? Maybe you do, worthless scum. Simply an outcast that pretends to be normal - it's all you can do. Pretend to be something!

Fuck off.

The sun blossomed into life. The snake was bested for the first time. I had bested the snake. A smile twitched at my lips and I looked to Sam, yearning to share my moment of triumph. The squirrel leaned forward, messing with her stirrup leathers, and grinned widely in reply to my small smile. Dancing sideways, Leon forced her to sit up, taking up contact on the reins as she scolded him good-naturedly.

"Can't walk in a straight line, can we, Leon?" She joked, waving her paw. "Right pair of drunkards, we are, honey."

"If you're drunk, am I the designated driver?" I couldn't believe I was actually kidding around - with Sam!

"Yeah, you're the only one who's got their shit together around here," she said. "God knows what we'd do without you, Jay."

It was uncomfortably warm. Unzipping my coat, I breathed slowly and deeply, regaining some measure of composure. Sam roused Leon to trot, presumably unaware of the effect of her last words. Marnie's eagerness stimulated me as I nudged her flank, the mare rising to the touch of my heels, and flew along the track, a trail of crushed hoof prints in our wake. We were unstoppable. My stomach heaved and a wave of either euphoria or dizziness washed over me like a summer downpour.

It was now or never. The snake had to die.

"Hey...Sam..." I said upon slowing, allowing our mounts to walk side by side. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," she fiddled with her hair, cheeks flushed: she must have been cold. "What's up?"

"Um..." The words wouldn't come out. "Well...have you ever met anyone that was not normal...like...not so well in their head? Ill? You know what I mean?"

The sun slipped behind a cloud, ashamed. Sam mulled it over.

"Well," she paused. "I suppose so. Do you mean, like, someone that's schizo or does something weird with their food... You know... The ones that throw it all up after they eat? They're not well in their head, like you say. Is that right?"

"Yes!" She'd got the base idea. "There are these things...mental illnesses... And the people that throw up their food like that are usually bulimic. But you can be anorexic too. That's more...publicised."

"Mm," Sam bobbed her head. "There are lots of films now about anorexic female furs. Quite sad but..."

She trailed off and I never discovered what she wanted to say of anorexics. My stomach bubbled, churning with excitement and the giddiness that comes from fasting. Not eating made me stronger. I ploughed on.

"There are lots of things that aren't mainstream illnesses," I didn't know how to phrase it. A frozen gust of wind caressed my cheek and I shivered. "Anorexia and depression are two... Do you know anything about depression? Do you know anyone like that?"

The snake lifted its wedge-shaped head, black tongue flickering.

"Yeah..." Sam coughed, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. "I don't really think anyone can be sick like that."

Cold seeped into my bones, as if I had been doused by a bucket of ice water.

"W-what?" I stammered, fighting to appear unconcerned though my heart was beating like a bird's wings against its cage. "Why do you think that? Isn't it just like...well...breaking your leg? Or catching the flu? It's something that happens to some people. Getting ill."

"Oh, come on, Jason," she chuckled, sitting up. "You can't honestly believe that."

That was not the reaction that I had expected. She wasn't following the script! A cloud passed over the sun as my snake reared triumphantly. My mouth felt dry and the world spun like that of a drunkard, though I had not even drunk water that day.

"Anyone who gets off on being 'depressed'," Sam made quotation marks in the air with her fingers, blue painted nails flashing in and out of sight, "should get what's coming to them. It's all about not sitting on their lazy arses and doing something about it. My cousin was 'depressed' but she was just looking for attention. She shut up after we ignored her. That's how you solve that problem - don't give them what they want."

I said nothing. How could she think that? Ignoring someone depressed, like me, was the worst possible thing to do. Better that she had taken a knife to her cousin's throat: it would have hurt less. My stomach yawned. I should have shut my gob and not said anything. Should, should, should. Fuck it. Something that I refused to acknowledge pricked my eyes and I blinked, looking up to where the sun would be behind the now thunder-grey clouds. Cute, friendly, chatty Sam was not my friend. Samantha was never my friend. She was not who I thought she was.

"What's wrong with you?" She smiled, blissfully unaware of what she had done. And it was too late already, for me - she didn't want an answer. "Come on, we're wasting time. We can loop around the edge of the forest and come out by the fields. You know, the galloping track. I could totally go for a blast. You up for it?"

She talked too much.

"Whatever."

She recoiled as if struck across the face. The forest was darker, foreboding. One could easily become lost if they did not know the trails or went off the marked tracks and I knew the forest better than Samantha. Marnie lifted her head, snorting her unease. In the distance, a motorbike raced through the woods, revving like a psycho, so unnatural.

We made our way on to the main road that ran through the forestry; there had to be some access for the trucks, after all, as that was the whole point of the forestry. Samantha told me that she did not like the idea of people cutting down trees and replanting them over and over but, considering the circumstances, I thought it an efficient, worthwhile mechanism, very logical. Trees were used too often, like words, so furs had an obligation to replace what they used and destroyed for the sake of sustainability. It was a shame that Samantha did not think that I deserved to be sustained.

My vision darkened, taking on a grey tinge. The sky was completely overcast, threatening rain or even snow, if winter had truly crept upon me that swiftly. The forest was no longer beautiful, but a productive system that I happened to pass through. The only alive being that I could comprehend was the horse upon whose back I rode. I rested my paw on Marnie's neck and she flicked her ears attentively, stride ever the same. She understood. I should have kept my woes with her.

"Leon," Samantha sanpped, jerking me back to her reality. "Get on with you! Jay, he won't go, for...goddamn it, Leon, you bastard of a horse!"

Leon danced at the edge of a fierce stretch of ice, which covered the first paces of the galloping track, a step or two from the road. Hooves skidding, Leon squealed rambunctiously, the whites of his eyes showing. I wished that Samantha would fall. It would be satisfying to me and Marnie too, if I knew her as well as I thought I did. I swore that mare could snigger. The black gelding lifted his front hooves, daring to rear, and his eyes rolled. I rode Leon before Samantha commandeered him on an expensive loan and he would not have so challenged a sensible command from me. The squirrel swore, one arm flying up, and I concealed a smile. Marnie snorted heavily, her agitation transferring to me through her quivering hide. She scraped a hoof against the grit and sighed.

No more bullshit. I kicked Marnie on and bullied my way past Leon, ignoring Samantha's cry of protest. What did I care? What more did she deserve? It was not my fault that she couldn't control her mount. Maybe she required another course of fancy lessons from her French riding instructor, whatever good that would do her. She was in my way. Vaguely, for myself, I promised that I would scarf down a piece of fruit and a bottle of water to take the edge off my stomach once I was back at the yard. Only a little, though, so it would not technically be cheating. According to Samantha, my problem did not exist, so did it truly matter if I ate or not?

"I'll meet you on the other side, if it's not too much of a problem for you," I said, digging in my heels.

Samantha froze, a strand of black hair whipping across her flustered muzzle. That would show her. Leon snaked his neck out and teeth clicked together an inch from Marnie's rump, although the mare, in tune with my chilled anger, flicked her tail just in time so that it caught him straight across his cheek. The gelding squealed rudely and I saw no more of that horse and rider as Marnie and I took our first tentative step into the freezing water.

It was deeper than expected but Marnie plodded through, lifting her hooves high as if to mimic a version of piaffe, not even clearing the ice as we strode deeper. The water lapped at my soles, cooling the mare's belly, and I urged her on, wading into the arms of challenge. The ice reached the mare's strong chest and she grunted, tail sodden and uncomfortably weighty. I patted her neck, forgetting that I was not, in fact, alone with 'my' beautiful mare. Animals deserved kindness more than two-legged beings and Marnie never judged. Groaning with the sheer strength required to progress, Marnie arched her neck, straining for the grassy rise ahead: dry land.

"Leon! Get on, damn you!"

Her struggle was thrilling, if only a fraction of my difficulty, while her problem was duly deserved. Somehow, it made what I was going through slightly easier to bear; it took the load off. If she had not been so prejudiced, I would have helped her to take Leon through the frozen flood. She was not to be educated if she did not practice acceptance and kindness, like my Marnie.

Marnie stumbled and I lunged for the neck strap. Was she okay? The water was understandably freezing and she shuddered, her pace too quick to be safe. I could not hold her back - not for her own strength, but for the compassion I held for her, the leggy bay. Leaning my sinuous body over her neck, I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth, urging her on, up and out of the water where her hooves scraped through remnants of a gritted path, overgrown and unkempt.

I released the breath that I did not know I was holding and patted her neck heartily. An obstacle well traversed: my mare had done me proud. One day, I could earn enough money to own Marnie and not pay or work for too brief rides. She was the perfect companion, miles better than any idiot femfur. Speaking of which, where had the squirrel gotten to?

"Are you coming or what?" I snapped, wheeling Marnie around. "Honestly, what's taking so damn long?"

"He won't go!" Samantha shouted, slapping the gelding's shoulder. "Leon! Git!"

It was as if I was watching a film, something that I could see but not quite reach out and touch, regardless of how immersed I was in the scene. In slow-motion, Samantha forced Leon into the water at long last, following the dark trail of liquid showing between the jagged edges of the ice, the path which had been crushed by Marnie. We had done all the work. He squealed and swung his hindquarters, startling a cluster of sparrows from the side of the path, chirping in alarm. Samantha kept the reins too short and bit her lower lip, pendulum legs going like a beginner to keep him moving. The gelding's shoulders rose in protest, the hint of a rear. I frowned: it was unusual for Leon to be particularly difficult.

Everything happened at once. The black horse swerved violently, crashing through the unbroken ice with a resounding crack that rang throughout the forest. Samantha clung to his mane for dear life, losing a stirrup as he shrieked, an unearthly, equine sound that did not belong. I half-parted my lips to call out before thinking twice. Let her get out of it herself, I told myself sternly. She needed to learn how to handle Leon if she had him on loan. The snake approved of this thought and slithered behind the glass, liking what I had become. My anger was directed outwards and not inwards. I liked it.

Samantha screamed as Leon reared, viciously vertically, pawing at the air with his hooves as he fought to escape. She tried to curl forward, push him back down, but the lack of one stirrup was her undoing. All flailing limbs, she tumbled over Leon's hindquarters, rolling off his rump and smashing through the ice with a sickening crack. My stomach turned as she disappeared into the dark water. She had made it three quarters of the way across.

"Samantha? Sam!" I shouted, finding my voice. Please get up, get up, get up, get up, get up. There was no movement.

"Sam!"

My chest was tight. I threw myself from Marnie's back and stumbled into the water, floundering in a fool's panic. Where was Samantha? Where was she? My paws shook terribly, water soaked through my thin gloves. Prancing at the edge of the water, Marnie whinnied unwilling to either leave or follow. Leon bucked, riderless, and plunged through the water, struggling all the way back to where he began. Upon reaching dry land, he burst into a fully fledged gallop, reins whipping his spirits into a frenzy. Before I could spare another thought for the panicked gelding, my paw found a shoulder beneath the water. He would have to wait. Thrusting my paws beneath Sam's arms, I hefted her bodily out of the water with strength founded by pure adrenaline.

The horse could find his own way home. He was smart. I had to look after Sam.

Chest heaving, I dragged her through the water, ever at danger of toppling over and taking a freezing dousing in turn. My heart pounded like hooves at gallop, painful in my chest. I did not have to carry the squirrel, grey fur plastered to her muzzle, far, yet it was with a sigh of relief that I dumped her on solid ground, her head lolling senselessly. She still had her helmet buckled tightly under her chin, the strap leaving an indent in fur and skin. Her lips were blue.

Samantha coughed and groaned, water bubbling up from between her lips as if she was an actor in a grotesque horror flick. I chanced that the regurgitated water was tinged with blood, though I could not be sure and I did not want to be sure. It was not happening. Eyes closed, Samantha reached blindly across her body to touch her right arm, the arm that she had fallen upon. A low moan rolled from her lips like a ghoul's howl. I reached to touch her muzzle and could not find the stomach to complete the motion.

My paw stilled in midair.

She had not helped me. She did not like people like me. She would have me ignored. Samantha forgot me, like everyone else. Why did she deserve my help? What of my kindness? My fingers clenched into fists, driving cold, crescent indentations into my palms. I had done more for her than she had ever done for me, for no acknowledgement whatsoever! Samantha had had her chance for the snake said it was so.

A warm breath stroked the back of my neck. Marnie stood over me, her brown eyes soft and watchful. I petted her neck and took up the reins, placing my foot into the left stirrup. It was all so mechanical. Samantha stirred. Shrugging with as much nonchalance as I possessed, though I did not need to put on a show, I dragged myself on to Marnie's back with my usual lack of grace. The saddle groaned and slipped to the side, although that mistake was easily righted. It was good to know that some mistakes were, in fact, fixable. Others were broken promises.

Samantha groaned, inviting me to pause. Eyelids fluttered and her very pale lips parted, showing how there was little colour remaining in her skin. She had never been pale to begin with, so it was a frightening change to see beneath her thicker fur. Something like that should not be evident but I could see it around the insides of her ears, the colour draining.

"Jason?" She murmured, turning her head sightlessly from side to side, blinking. "What...happened? I hurt. My arm hurts. What... Where's Leon? What happened? Where's Leon?"

"Help," I said in a monotone, eyes narrowed as I turned away. "I am going to get help. Wait here."

It did not sound like my voice, though she would never know. Something akin to relief swept over her face like a cloud and guilt struck me for a moment. Was this right? Of course it was. Her lips moved soundlessly and then she was still, as unmoving as a corpse. I settled myself comfortably in the old saddle, flicking my thin tail over the back and setting off for the stables at a leisurely pace. In my wake, like shards of broken ice, was the past. Ahead, I would tackle my own black ice, alone, or as alone as I could be with Marnie at my side.

There was no way for me to reach help with greater speed, I reasoned. I did not have a mobile phone - an unnecessary luxury in my world of second use clothes. Samantha owned a red Siemens but I knew that it would not have survived any short of dunking: the useless thing was prone to cutting out in the rain. Samantha was not grateful to simply possess one, for she constantly whined about wanting a new one for her birthday. Fat lot of good that phone did her after everything else. I had to locate assistance in person. A wild squirrel chattered reproachfully from a branch, reminding me of familiar chatter, and scurried away in the next instant, searching for his cache of nuts.

I took a winding route through the trees, which was my favourite route when I had all the time in the world or was cunningly stretching out my riding time for as long as possible. Taking the barely formed track through the musty pine trees was comforting and, thankfully, ice free, permitting a bed of rusty pine needles for my royal progress. There was little noise - the birds no longer sang - and even Marnie's hoof falls were muted. Swallowing, I squashed down my emotions, capping them like I would seal a bottle. Traitor thoughts trickled in, the water that finds the crack in the stone.

I could not shake Samantha from my mind; she had her claws in me. What if she was seriously hurt? Did she deserve to die? Or become ill at best? What if my dawdling caused something far worse than a teenage dispute, taking her ignorance into account? Life could not be worth pride. I had to be better, better than her, and good to myself. What had I done? My thoughts whirled. My mouth was dry and I trembled, chilled to the bone already. Samantha had been in the water for longer than I.

Marnie sprang into a canter at my bidding and I crouched low over her neck to avoid branches, roaring at a pace to challenge any stamina bound racehorse. Sam was hurt - my Sam! The speed and urgency warmed me, but my hat was askew. Why had I been so stupid? So immature? I couldn't breathe. An invisible fist was clenched around my throat. A memory flashed before my eyes of my father, choking me. I had not been able to finish my dinner that night. He had not liked that. That was when it had begun. But food was not the problem - the problem was others, other furs. Starting with myself, change must be had. The sun was abruptly bright, mocking, and in my eyes. Squinting, I snapped to reality and focused on the feel of the horse beneath me, the surge of her powerful body. I had to reach the stables, I just had to. The journey was a blur. Marnie faltered. I had to get help, I had to help Sam.

What if she died?

Later, leading a wailing ambulance into the forestry with a fresh horse, I disguised my teeth from chattering. Every muscle in my body ached and I was oh so very cold, cold to the marrow of my bone. My best chance of bringing aid to Samantha was to not show anyone else how bad I truly was, because no one else knew how to reach her in time. I hoped there was still time. The sun could not decide whether to lurk behind cloud or not so the world was alternately dim and shockingly bright, sharp and clear. It did not matter now because I knew what mattered. I was strong.

As we finally approached Sam's prone form at breakneck speed, I chanced that I saw her roll her head, smiling in recognition. My vision blurred and her frighteningly blue lips moved, mouthing the words: you came back.

This time, it was not too late.