Demon Child

under the prying wedge of a lightning bolt. A clap of horrendous thunder seemed to lift the earth and throw it down.
        Tulip bellowed.
        “Whoa!”
        The mare bucked, came to a full stop and leaped into the air, rising until she stood only on her hind feet; her great bulk was almost perpendicular to the earth.
        “No!” Jenny shouted.
        She hung on.
        A second explosion of thunder hammered across the open land while lightning spasmed through the clouds.
        Tulip came down-only to go up once more. This time, she was quicker and more violent than before, wrenching her broad shoulders. She snuffled and whinnied, tossed her proud head back and forth as her terror swelled beyond reasonable bounds.
        Jenny lost her grip.
        She felt one foot tear loose of the stirrup. Frantically, she wrenched her other foot free as well, lest she be trapped by it and dragged over the rugged terrain. She felt herself slipping off the saddle and could not manage to maintain a hold on the horn. She went over Tulip's flank and came down hard against the earth, the wind knocked out of her, pain flashing for a moment in her left thigh.
        Somehow, she managed to roll in order to avoid the viciously stamping hooves that tore up the sod only inches from her head. Dirt and grass sprayed over her as Tulip punished the earth for what the sky had done to her.
        Then there was no more lightning or thunder. There was only a very black sky and the hissing curtain of the rain.
        Tulip galloped ahead, still frightened and searching for shelter, though some of her temper seemed to have improved. Two hundred feet ahead, she ambled to a halt and looked around, perplexed, as if she could not remember what she had been running from. She whinnied loudly, shook her head, flopping her mane from side to side. Then she examined the earth and began chewing at the long, fresh sprouts of grass.
        Carefully, Jenny got to her feet. She gasped for breath until the pain in her stomach was gone, then straightened up. She tested the sore spot on her thigh and decided that nothing had been broken. She walked about in a circle, swinging her arms, flexing her legs until circulation had returned everywhere and until she no longer felt the pain very much.
         Don't mount the horse again, the voice warned her.
        But she had to.
         It could have killed you.
        But Richard might kill Walter before she could get there. And though Tulip was an unknown factor now, and though Jenny always tried to avoid the unknown, she had to go on. Walter was the post, the haven, the fixed point against which the unknown and the unexpected had no power. Without him, she would be cast back into a world of chaos and continuous fear.
        She walked forward, speaking softly and sweetly to the mare. She smiled and felt foolish coaxing a horse as she might a child, but she did her best to make the animal feel at ease with her. She had to recover Tulip no matter what the cost.
        The mare watched her out of wide, white-rimmed eyes. The beast had a mouthful of grass and was slowly, methodically, grinding it down. Her lower jaw moved sideways against her upper in a comical sort of way.
        Jenny did not feel like laughing, however. She approached warily, praying there would be no more violent displays of nature to spook the mare. She continued to talk, meaningless phrases, all spoken in a tone of reassurance and warmth. Every minute that passed like this, Walter was closer to a confrontation with Richard Brucker.
        When Jenny was within fifteen feet of her, the mare turned and trotted a dozen yards farther along, watched the girl a moment, then bent her head to the task of pulling up more grass and grinding it with her large, square teeth.
        Jenny was angry, but kept her temper under wraps. A show of fury would only serve to scare the horse away again. She continued her approach, talking softly, quietly, softly, quietly…
        This time, Tulip remained still, watching.
        She touched the mare's neck. The horse shuddered but did not pull away. For a full minute, Jenny continued petting her and nuzzling her, digging fingers behind the animal's ears and scratching there.
        Slyly, she worked her way to the mounting side, stroked the animal's flanks, then carefully climbed into the saddle.
        Tulip made no move to throw her off.
        She gathered