Page 84 of This Dark Descent
By the time they reached the final stretch, there were no other horses on the path. Everyone else had finished or was behind them.
There was only Mikira and Atara.
“Come on,” she said again. Atara’s breathing came fast and heavy. Her stride wavered.
The finish line loomed. Were they already too late?
Atara’s leg buckled. She caught herself before they fell, Mikira’s stomach swooping. The horse tried to pick up a trot, but every step on her right leg pained her. She staggered between walk and trot, fighting, Mikira powerless to do anything but pray, to promise her apples and long walks in the forest and to bite whomever she damned well pleased.
“Come on,” she whispered, leaning her weight back to keep it off Atara’s front leg.
Atara tossed her head and threw herself forward, breaking into one final, limping trot across the finish line.
The announcer’s voice cut through the thundering of hooves and blood.
“And in tenth place, Mikira Rusel!”
“WHERE IS SHE?”Ari barged into the makeshift stable, Damien and Reid at her back.
Mikira leapt up from where she’d been leaning against Atara’s stall, her exhaustion nearly dragging her straight back down. Atara had her right foreleg bent to keep the weight off of it. She whickered softly when Ari entered, lowering her head to be petted, and Ari slowed to capture the mare’s head in her hands.
“It’s okay,” she whispered, running her hand along Atara’s side. She stopped above the wound.
It looked terrible, the flesh rent by Gren’s knife down to the layers of muscle and fat beneath. Blood had matted in her dark coat and still leaked freely from the wound.
“Is there anything you can do?” Mikira held on to the stall door, helplessness overtaking her. If Atara couldn’t race, they were finished, but more than that, the idea that the horse might be permanently lame made her want to be sick. She thought of Ailene lying on the couch, the spark gone from her eyes.
“I don’t know,” Ari replied. “I usually never see golems again after I create them, but there’s a feeling…” She trailed off, her attention settling on something that the rest of them couldn’t see.
“What is it?” Mikira leaned closer.
“My magic. I can sense it, like a connection.” Ari pressed her fingers harder into Atara’s shoulder, and the horse huffed in annoyance but bore the pain. “Everyone be quiet.”
They obeyed as she closed her eyes and began to chant in Kinnish. Mikira watched in growing wonder as light wisped from her skin and gathered around Atara’s wound, before slowly knitting the skin back together.
When the light faded, the wound was gone.
“Thank the Goddess,” Mikira said in a rush of breath. “How did you do that?”
Ari stared down at her fingertips in distant wonder. It was Damien who replied, “I suspect since her magic formed Atara’s flesh, she had only to do the same thing again.”
Atara tossed her head, and Mikira grinned, collapsing into the nearest chair in utter exhaustion. She only realized she’d fallen asleep when she came to in an empty stall, Reid wrapping a bandage around her arm. She could feel the sting of disinfecting herbs across the bridge of her nose.
When Reid noticed she was awake, he seized a steaming mug of tea and thrust it in her face. “Drink this.”
“What is tea going to do?” she asked groggily but accepted the mug.
He blinked at her in mild affront. “What is tea going to—” He bit off the words, muttering to himself as he finished binding the wound. She didn’t miss how slowly he worked, his gentle touch, and the care he took.
“The others?” she asked.
“Are loading up Atara.”
“Pity,” said a saccharine voice. “I wanted to inspect the beast myself.”
Mikira lurched to her feet, the sudden movement leaving her dizzy. Reid steadied her as Rezek peered at them through the stall door. His sharp eyes took in Reid’s hand on her arm, and Reid quickly snatched it back.
Rezek traced one finger along the wooden groove of the door. “It seems you made an alliance. All anyone’s talking about is the rider that kept the others from finishing, though no one seems to know their name.”
