I sink onto the highest step. I can’t seem to draw in enough air.
And then a shadow passes over us. It ripples like water, but it is the shape of an airplane, only the wings move. They pull in. And extend again. A sound like thunder rolls through the air. Thomas’s head pitches up, and he squints into the sky as a dark worry fills me.
“What is that?” he asks.
The shape is moving on the other side of the trees. Only a shadow, but I know what it is. Oh, I know. A creature that hunts by smell. A creature that I thought had left us alone, at least for today. A creature that is headed straight for the sundial garden.
“OH NO, HE’S BACK!”
Thomas calls after me as I race to the garden, but I don’t respond. Winter chill nips through the layers of my clothing, and briars tear at my skin as I climb. Foxfire is pacing the wall, running in the tight space, back and forth. She too has seen the Black Horse’s shadow, and I can tell we are thinking the same thing: It was only a trick, before. He never intended to leave us alone at all!
“Come on!” I yell to Foxfire. I rip out the stick holding the gate closed. My middle finger is bleeding all over everything, but I don’t care. I turn to Foxfire. She can’t fly, but she can still run.
“You have to leave! Run away as fast as you can!”
She’s pacing wildly, rearing and pawing the air. She doesn’t know where to go. This is my world, not hers. I reach up and push her toward the open gate. Beyond are fields frosted and dead with winter. She is the same color as the frost. The Black Horse, with his poor vision, might not see her.
“Go!”
She tosses her head, throwing my hand away. She starts for the gate, but stops. Snorts. And then looks at me.
I know horses cannot talk. Even magic horses. But when I look into her eyes, I know what she is trying to say. Something eases deep in my chest. For a moment, as I find the strength to climb up the ivy, I don’t feel the ache in my bones. From my height, I’m able to slide a hand over her shoulders. She doesn’t buck. Doesn’t snort a protest. I pull myself up by her withers, avoiding her hurt wing, and wrap my legs around either side of her.
I weave my fingers into her mane.
I have never ridden like this. No saddle. No reins. Wings on either side of my legs.
There is only the wind and Foxfire and me. We are one.
“Go!”
She tears through the gate. Her muscles are rippling beneath my legs, her quicksilver hooves pounding the frozen ground. I gasp with the thrill of it. The fields streak around us, and I lean into the bitter cold wind. If she is this fast running, what must she be like flying? I think she could outfly the Germans, if she wanted. She could certainly outfly a Black Horse.
I clutch her mane harder and look over my shoulder. We are jostling, jostling, jostling, and the hospital disappears from view as we plunge down Briar Hill into empty fields. I’ve never seen the hospital from a distance. It looks so grand. Lights are shining in all of the windows. The two oaks in the front lawn rise like sentries.
A dark shadow ripples beside us, matching us in time.
“Faster, faster!”
And she does. She goes faster. She goes faster than I thought a horse could go. Some other part of me takes over. Presses my legs closer to her. Leans in. The wind cuts right through me, but I don’t feel it. I don’t hear Anna coughing. I don’t feel Benny’s thin hand on my wrist. There is only the wind and Foxfire and me. We are one.
“Don’t stop!”
Tears are coming faster down my face. The wind freezes them before they can fall. I hug my arms around Foxfire’s neck and want never to let her go. We reach the end of the field, and Foxfire leans hard to the left, circling the line of willows that skirt the stream. She slows, just a little. It isn’t until she has circled the field three times that I realize I haven’t seen the black shadow in some time.
She continues to slow until she switches to a trot that has me bouncing on the hard bones of her back. The gray sky is bare now. A few clouds, but no Black Horse.
We have escaped him—really escaped him—for one more day.
Foxfire slows to a walk, and I press my left leg into her side. She is a wild horse, so she does not know the signals, but she seems to understand. She circles around and heads back to the open garden gate.
We return to the fountain and the tarnished sundial. I slide off her back, feet catching on the fountain’s rim, and then hop off onto the ground.
She bows her head to me, and I press my hands to the sides of her face. I touch my forehead to the swirl of her horse-hair that is the shape of a spark, right between her eyes.
“I won’t let him get you. I made a promise, and I’ll keep it.”
Foxfire tosses her head again. She is breathing hard, and turns to take a long drink from the fountain.
Tomorrow I will find the last colors.
I will find something blue.
I will find something orange.