At the stream, Terin sits. The sun leans onto the birch trees, resting upon them its full, late-afternoon weight. Terin watches the fish, purple and pale green, splashing in the shallow water. The green are small like birch leaves, but the purple are nearly three feet long and dappled with iridescence. Sun-Ribbons, Terin thinks.. She reaches to her patched and wrinkled leather satchel, pulls out her notebook and scrawls down the name and a quick rendering. Cataloguing all the creatures in this wood has been fulfilling, yes, but what really interests Terin is what sort of life hides in the hidden places; the things that don’t want to be found. That is where the real learning lies.

She closes her eyes, daydreams of a hundred eyes within ancient ruins. The water tip-taps playfully against the rocks in the stream and Terin relaxes. A scene so serene begs to be slept in. Terin tugs the edges of her wool maroon cloak around herself, forming a makeshift cocoon. She leans back toward the grass, takes a deep breath of pollen and cool air, filling her lungs with calm, then - a rustle from behind, and the footsteps of something large. Carefully, she straightens her vertebrae back up, lets the edges of her cloak fall back and rests her hands on her knees. This wood had seemed safe, but then again, nowhere is safe anymore.

“Will you be taking my money or my dignity this afternoon?” Terin asks.

A smooth, twinkling voice replies, “Which do you have more of to share, my dear?”

Terin stands and faces the figure, careful to remain solid, relaxed. The man before her is of average height, no older than 30, and dressed like a bard. One long peacock feather reaches toward the sky from his flopped hat. Curiously, his outfit is entirely white, or rather, it was once. Now it’s filthy, covered in mud - or blood. In his left hand, he holds a branch. In his right, a rock. He is the most frightening figure Terin has seen in these woods.

Several meters behind him, a large creature looms in the shadows, waiting for its master. Terin takes note, but does not sense any threat there. “I have little in the way of fortune. I can tell you that, bard.”

His reply leaks out like oil from a well. “I guess I’ll just have to enjoy your company.”

In one swift motion, the man strikes the branch with the stone, setting its tip ablaze. Terin’s eyes widen. That torch could tear this paradise to shreds in a matter of hours. That is the only reason Terin doesn’t hesitate to reach down to a small amber bottle fastened to her belt. She pulls out the cork, and braces herself. A blink and you’d miss it, which is recommended. A thick grey-blue smoke, streaked with black, rushes out of the bottle and into the bard. Into his ears, eyes, mouth and nose. Its movements are fast, but staccato, as if it’s not sure it wants to exist in this world and is trying to escape. The bard’s grip on the torch loosens. Terin lunges forward, grabbing it before it can hit the soft, new grass beneath.

She releases a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding and pulls back, taking in her revenge. The bard’s body undulates wildly with an otherworldly pain. He doesn’t even have time to scream before the entity is escaping him, pouring out like water and leaving a fleshy, pale husk in its wake. The smokey entity swirls in the air, as if in a state of bliss, before darting into the bottle at Terin’s side once more. Terin secures the cork, turns and extinguishes the torch’s flame in the stream, it’s hiss a victory song.

Heavy footsteps again. Cautious, curious. The creature! Terin takes a deep breath and softens her tone. “Oh, I’d forgotten you. I’m sorry.”

She turns, and sees something entirely new. A horse, larger than any she’d seen before, with a pale blonde coat. But this horse has two necks, two heads, and two pairs of tomato-red eyes that are presently staring directly into hers.

“Are you our new master?” asks one head.

“Are you a demon?” asks the other.

What a day, Terin thinks. She closes the shocked O her mouth had unwittingly formed. “To your first question…I don’t know about master, but you may join me on my travels, if you like. And to the second, I don’t think so.” She pauses, and thinks. “Will you move closer, more into the light?” The horse nods and trots forward, showing zero concern for the remains of their former master.

“Now stay….right there!”

The horse abides, its coat nearly glittering in the full light of the sun.

Terin grabs her notebook and pen, flips open to a fresh page and jots down her new discovery.

The Double Horse.