Diving Deep - Solo

[FennWenn]

It didn’t much matter at this point. Whoever had once known this not-horse was long gone, and it was

just

down the shore.

Hooves clattered against rock, a sound dulled by the mist rolling off the lake. Fenn’s breath caught as he saw it. The kelpie looked as it had before Loreley had first neared it; a heavyset horse, dun and melancholy. This time though, its Glamour was marred by thick tears, and it was breathing heavily. Wounds. Seeping crimson, marking each blow Daugi had ripped into it. As the blood hit the rocks, it faded to brown, and then green. Raw strength hadn’t overcome it before; his meager might couldn’t possibly overcome it. He couldn’t walk in swinging ice chunks and expecting to emerge victorious. Countless citadel defeats had drilled that much into him. No, he needed a plan of some kind.

Fenn… still wasn’t sure what his plan was going to be. He felt compelled forward for some reason; maybe it was just leftover anger fueling his feet forward. Snow puffed in and out of existence around him. Frost spread outward from his every footstep. His magic was active. It was impossible for him to pinpoint why, but something in his blood told him to keep walking.

The kelpie pricked up at the slap of his bare feet against the rough shore, and it lifted its snout to look down at him. Doelike eyes widened as he approached.

Perhaps it knew him — recognized him from the tussle not half an hour earlier. Or perhaps all it saw was another free meal.

Perhaps it couldn’t believe its luck.

“That bridle? That... it's like... it's self-ness.“

He remembered how it had hesitated as Loreley neared. How it had waited, coy, for her to walk right up to it before striking. How it had only attacked after she was near enough to reach for its bridle. Fenn took a deep breath, staring determinedly forward, mulling over its actions. This was a predator. It was used to easy prey, wasn’t it? Used to people who didn’t know the teeth and bone rotting under its false surface. People who would be lured in by its own apparently vulnerability, to be pinned by one unexpected bite and dragged into the dark lake before them. The space between him and those hidden jaws narrowed. Now, if Fenn wanted to, he could reach out to touch the creature. Its breath, cool and lifeless, stank of rotting meat. It nickered shyly. Invitingly.

A shiver of anticipation shot through the boy. He held up one hand, as if to lay it on the creature’s snout.

Light blazed in the kelpie’s eyes. Its lips pulled back. Sharp teeth unfurled; as they did so, the false guise of the horse tore apart like wet paper, revealing the bone and seaweed and grey flesh underneath, tensed for its strike.

Fenn ducked.