Running Wild

faster yet again. Goddammit. He leaned low and looked at the ground blurring by him as he toyed with the idea of falling off. He was hard-pressed to follow through with that idea. After all, the horse didn’t seem crazed, just purposeful, and Seamus didn’t relish broken bones. He’d already landed flat on his back today upon Pete’s arrival, and that was enough falling as far as he was concerned.
So he stayed on for the wild ride and set aside the idea of taming Black. Mostly he tried to figure out how the hell he was going to get back home if Black didn’t take him there.
Chapter Five
    When the horse finally slowed down—at a great distance from the farm— Seamus slid off and stumbled, only to land on his ass. That made him madder. Better angry, though, than freaking out at memories of another crazy ride.
    Seamus scrubbed his face. That was then, this is now. It was still daylight, even if evening was approaching. And this was never going to happen again. Because never again would he ride this horse. It was wild, not tame, and Seamus, not an expert rider, should not have climbed on the horse out of some strange attachment.
    He stood up and looked around him.
The horse whickered.
“Yeah, buddy, I’m going to ignore you. I’m a little aggravated, and that’s an
    understatement.” Seamus glared, but it didn’t have much effect on the black beauty. He shook his head, wondering how the hell he was going to make it home before dusk. It was maybe two hours from sunset. Which would surely give him time to find a place whose door he could knock on. He didn’t relish explaining his situation, but that was embarrassment talking, and he could deal with embarrassment.
    When the horse whickered again, insisting he pay it attention, Seamus placed his hands on his hips. “What the hell do you want? Don’t you understand you’re in the doghouse as far as I’m concerned?” Not that Black could understand Seamus’s mild animal humor. He was trying to hang on to his sense of humor, though God knows it wasn’t easy.
The horse turned around and trotted into a denser portion of the woods. “Yeah, you go your way, and I’ll go mine.”
That brought the horse sharply around, as if it knew Seamus might not
follow him, and Black summoned Seamus once more.
    He couldn’t believe it. He was tempted to follow the horse. Did he have to remind himself he was fed up with this creature and needed to get moving?
The horse blew out and stamped one foot, clearly wanting Seamus to come to him.
“What?” Seamus snapped, striding forward, and the horse started trotting. He rolled his eyes at himself and weakly supposed it was as good a direction as any, given he didn’t know where the fuck he was.
“I hope to hell it’s going to be a warm night, or I’m going to freeze in this goddamned T-shirt. It’s not the first time this has happened, if you remember,” he called out to the horse. So what if he was treating it like a sentient creature? There was no one here to observe them. Seamus was trying to beat back memories of the horror-filled night of his teen years.
Weird how Pete’s outburst had brought that memory fully back, made it real. It bothered Seamus that Pete had referred to it out of the blue when he’d never done so before. Then Pete had gone on to talk about safety. It made Seamus feel out of the loop in some way, but out of what loop?
He glanced around, trying to figure out why Black was picking its way through denser woods, when something shiny caught the corner of Seamus’s eye. He whipped up his head to see…a tent of sorts. Newish material, not old canvas. Silver in color. Big but not huge.
Seamus felt his eyes widen. No way he wouldn’t have been heard by whoever was here. If they were here.
He sucked in a quick breath and called out, “Hello? Anyone home?”
Not that his heart wasn’t beating faster for fear he’d stumbled into someone’s cache, someone unfriendly. But he was trying to persuade it otherwise.
There was no answer from the tent, and the horse whickered encouragement.
“Shut up,” Seamus grumbled at Black and edged forward. He supposed this was someone’s abode and he should afford them some privacy, but he was curious and, well, needed help. The place wasn’t exactly locked. Maybe it was a kid’s hideaway, and he wasn’t too far from a house. That made the most sense.
He unzipped the tent and glanced inside.
Tidy. A narrow cot on one side. Some supplies. Some books and…