“No!” I shout and, in my desperation, I hurtle towards the silent lake. The only indication that the kelpie had ever been there are the ripples that brush up against the shore. Reaching the water’s edge, I fall to my knees. “She has returned!” I shout, my voice breaking.
I’m not sure what I expected to happen, but when the kelpie’s head pops up from the water only two feet away from me, I have to stifle my shout of surprise. It’s so close, I can see its rippling mane moving on a phantom breeze. A primal part of me is screaming to move back, to get as far away from the lake as I can, but as I lock eyes with the creature, I know it’s not going to hurt me.
Two sets of ripples have me looking past the kelpie to see two smaller ones have joined it, their jet-black heads bobbing from the water to stare at me with their glowing amber eyes.
“She has returned,” I say again, my voice ragged.
As if by some silent signal, the three of them dip their heads in my direction. One of the smaller creatures disappears under the water, but it’s the big one I’m watching. Slowly, oh so slowly, he moves towards me, his body raising from the water the closer he gets. I don’t move, staying completely still. This close, its tall, towering over me where I kneel on the shore.
Lowering its large head, he stares at me with his amber eyes. I can feel its rage, but it’s no longer aimed at me. I don’t know what compels me to do it, but I reach up and rest my hand on the creature’s nose. It doesn’t feel like any horse I’ve ever touched, more like the feeling you get when you rest your palm on the top of water. It’s cool to the touch, but not quite solid, like if I tried to grab it, I would have only a handful of liquid. It lowers its head again, coming close to my face, and I jerk back, pulling my hand away. It instantly freezes, and against my better judgement, I don’t move when he tries again.
He presses his forehead to mine, and I suddenly get flashes of images in my mind. No, they’re memories, not my memories, but the kelpie’s.
There’s a girl standing by the lake, calling out to us. Our rage and insatiable hunger wants us to gallop through the water and pull her in like we’ve done to so many others.
Down, down, down we drag them. Their screams are muffled by the glorious liquid, and the only things escaping their mouths are bubbles as they waste their precious oxygen. Their terror fuels us, stoking our anger. We will have our revenge.
The girl is skinny, won’t be much to feast on, but her fear will be ripe. There’s something about her, though, that calls to us, something that overrides the never-ending hunger. This is why we reveal ourselves, curious, only to find she wants our help. Why would we help a human when they have done nothing for us? That rage rises again, and I rear up out of the water before diving back into the dark depths. I spared her life because of that curiosity, that is the only gift I will give her.
“She has returned!”
The words, though muted through the water, make me freeze. Immediately, I turn and gallop back to the surface until I am almost nose to nose with her. If she has returned, she will help us get our revenge.
Breaking out of the memory, I fall back against the hard ground, shaking my head as I adjust to being back in my own head. The kelpie’s thoughts are horrific, their hunger is insatiable and their rage… The images of people being dragged to their watery grave will reappear in my nightmares.
“Revenge, what revenge?” I manage to bite out.
Lowering its head towards me, I take a deep breath and prepare to re-enter its thoughts.
We’re galloping through the water, my brothers and sisters behind me. The weather is warm today, so the water is calm other than the eddies our movements create. We continue through our territory when we feel it—a wrongness in the water. Throwing back my head, I neigh and speed towards the feeling, my siblings trailing close behind. That’s when we see it. There is a barrier, cutting us off from the rest of our territory. I