From Orchids to Embers

[windrider110]

Bella Sara has kinda been in a coma for a while, and not many people seem to know about it or remember it, so there might not be anyone that reads this, but that’s ok. If anyone is out there and reading this, thank you, and I’m glad that there’s someone else who cares and remembers about Bella Sara. <3

This is a fanfiction I’ve partially written that (for now) is titled From Orchids to Embers. I’ll change it if I think of anything better. I’m writing this as a sort of sequel to Valkrist’s Flight and from the perspective of Colm. There are likely going to be a couple of things I change from the actual canon stuff, some things like Colm’s personality (he’s still a bit bratty but not as much) and other parts of the lore of North of North (that I haven’t gotten too yet.) I’m only a few chapters in, and I don’t know how often I’m gonna post, but yeah, here’s what I’ve got so far.

Chapter 1

It had truly been a beautiful day. The sky had taken on a light sapphire hue and the world sang of spring’s beginning. Birds serenaded the woods with their various melodies and the gentle wind swept through the trees as soft as a whisper. But, like any other day, this one had begun to meet its end as the sun made its downward descent, bathing the stoic pine trees in an orange-gold aura. Crickets began to chirp and buzz as the birds sang the final notes of their songs. The world here seemed beautiful and peaceful.

And Colm was sulking.

With brows knitted together into a bitter glare, he slapped the wet rag he was using onto the wooden deck, causing water to spray in every direction. He had been doing chores all day, just like he had for the past five months, and was currently scrubbing floorboards on the back porch. Each day he was told to get up and work from sunrise to sunset and was barely allowed to take any breaks. He wasn’t surprised, however; he knew he deserved it (although he would have denied it had anyone asked him). It just didn’t seem fair. Five months ago he was free to wander around the large estate that had been given to his parents: a thirty-acre ranch complete with a large two-story house and a stable full of horses. Two months Emma was the one doing the chores, not him. Five months ago Colm didn’t have to worry about getting up early to shovel manure or scrub any various objects his father could think of. And yet, five months ago, Colm had been teasing his cousin in her little hayloft above the stables and accidentally knocked over the lit candle she was using.

Five months ago, Colm had set the stables on fire.

It had been a perfect day and he couldn’t have cared less, for his hands had been kept busy at work and his mind was filled with bitterness. He looked up when he heard laughter coming from the direction of the new stables (the stables that he was still trying to pay off by working) and grimaced. Emma was running and frolicking in the pasture with an adolescent colt- the colt that had been born not long before the stable fire. ‘Of course she’s getting to play with Wings while I have to clean the grubby floorboards.’ Colm glared as his cousin ran past.

Colm sighed. Technically he wouldn’t have been allowed to play with or even go near Wings anyway, even if he didn’t have work to do. It was his fault Wings was here in the first place. Wing’s mother, Dowager, had belonged to Mrs. Bridget, a woman who lived in a small cottage not far from them, and boarded Dowager with the ranch. Dowager had carried Colm many nights… nights that he had snuck out with her and a couple of the other horses with two other boys. All Colm had been trying to do was make friends… and he ended up not watching Dowager closely enough, for she became pregnant on one of the forbidden night rides. She had Wings not too long after the vet realized what was wrong with her.

And with Wing's birth came her death.

It was Colm’s fault that Dowager was gone, and while he pretended not to care too much, deep inside it hurt him so badly that he refused to think about it, or else he would physically break down. Like that was gonna happen. Colm rolled his eyes and went back to scrubbing the floorboards. The porch door swung open and his father, Morgan Roland, stepped out, his shiny dark boots thumping loudly onto the wood flooring. Colm looked up, not fully meeting his dad’s eyes, partially afraid that he would be assigned yet another chore to do. Instead, to his surprise, he was met with: “The deck looks good Colm, take a break. Come inside before it gets too dark, though.” And then his father was back inside. Colm didn’t mind too much, his parent’s interactions with him were usually brief except when they were upset with him or giving him a task. They always had their hands full taking care of the ranch and its affairs nowadays, so Colm kept trying to branch out and make friends. ‘Like the last time went well. I got caught trying to take the horses out and ended up burning the place down.’

Colm ran a hand through his long, coarse, blonde hair, pushing it away from his light blue eyes as he stepped down from the porch. Hands in pockets, he walked towards the woods nearest to the stable. The sun shone directly behind the towering pines, outlining their silhouettes in iridescent hues of gold, pink, and light orange. Colm looked up into the sky as the dark silhouettes of a flock of birds glided past, moving silently except for their soft chirps. He almost wished he were that high up, but shook his head and wandered further into the darkening wood. The crickets and cicada’s chirps became louder here, and the sunlight only shone in little fragments between the slender frames of the ebony tree trunks.

Colm huffed in annoyance as he brushed a couple of low-hanging branches away from his face, and, stepping over a couple of weeds and brambles, made his way towards a clearing where the thorns and underbrush receded. The woods got slightly darker here, but Colm didn’t care. There was a cut log seated on the forest floor a couple of feet away from two long wooden poles that had been driven into the ground. A tarp was hung over both poles by two of its corners. The other two corners had been staked into the forest floor, making the tarp stretch down to the ground in a triangular shape.

Underneath the little shelter was another log, this one shorter and rounder with a small pocket knife stuck into it. Colm usually snuck down to this spot when he was given a break, and either cleaned or repaired the shelter when needed or attempted to whittle small pine branches into whatever he fancied. Usually he made the wood too thin, however, and what he created broke. Colm sat on the taller log next to the shelter and, reaching over to grab his knife, looked up into the forest’s canopy.

His heart stopped.

Staring back at him from the ceiling of branches were two blazing orange-yellow eyes, with pupils thin and black. Colm tried to stand, never turning his eyes from the glaring beady ones staring back at him, only to trip and fall backward over the log. The fall averted his gaze, and when he looked back up he realized that what had frightened him hadn’t been eyes in the canopy at all; they were just patches of sunlight shining through the thick branches. Colm glared at the treetops angrily and muttered “Stupid trees.” Then something else caught his attention, and it wasn’t eyes. It was a sound- a very faint buzzing-like noise echoing in Colm’s ear. Colm shook his head and pressed on both ears, trying to get the sound out of his head. But instead, the noise became much louder and more urgent, the slight buzz becoming a lower-pitched drone. Colm took a step back, careful not to trip on the log, and swiveled his head in all directions, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound.

It seemed to be coming from everywhere.

The droning deepened further in pitch, and Colm heard other sounds from the woods joining it: guttural snarls and gnashing of teeth. He heard what sounded like cruel and sharp laughter right next to his ear and jumped back, only seeing the darkening wood around him. His heart began to beat incredibly fast, but he stayed put. This had to be some kind of lame trick. Maybe Emma was doing this as some kind of revenge for teasing her with the candle so long ago. ‘That doesn’t seem like something she’d do; she’s a goody-two-shoes…’ Colm reached down and grabbed a large branch lying next to the shelter. He tightened his empty hand into a fist and called out: “Hey! Quit with the stupid trick, you’re not fooling anyone! Whoever’s there is gonna be real’ sorry when I find you! Go on! Come out!” He waved the branch before him, brandishing it like a sword, and clenched his teeth.

The woods instantly went silent and Colm grinned to himself victoriously. Suddenly, as fast as the woods went silent, they became loud again, but this time the snarls and buzzing had turned into banshee-like screams and howls. Colm felt a chilling sense of terror washing over him, and his mouth went dry. The wind picked up, joining the howling and causing him to shiver as its icy fingers grabbed at his heart. The dark woods took on a reddish haze and the black ground appeared to be rising up at him with hundreds of tiny dagger-like claws reaching up towards his legs. The dark shadow-covered trees also seemed to be extending their branches out at him with creaking groans. Colm’s breathing quickened and sweat began to pour down his brow. The woods were filled with yellow eyes with tiny black, slitted pupils focused on him., and this time Colm knew they weren’t just the trees.

This was impossible.

Every muscle was tense and the voice inside of his head screamed at him to move, but he was unable. He stood there as rigid as a porcelain doll, eyes glazed over in fear. It was only when another voice inside his head, another voice that wasn’t his own, calmly advised him: ‘You must get away from this place.’ that he began to snap out of his trance.

The woods almost appeared to shift, the tall straight shape of the trees melting into distorted forms. Colm wondered if he was hallucinating, and took a step back before his legs locked up even further. His eyes stung from the screeching wind whipping around in his face. The voice came again, still gentle, but more insistent: ‘It is dangerous here. You must go!’ The howls became tortured cries of pain… and it almost sounded like people he knew were screaming and moaning. Was this a trick? It had to be.

When he refused to move, the voice in his head came again, but this time it changed, filling with an authority that surprised him: ‘Move Malcolm Roland! Now!’ And at that, Colm fled, sprinting as fast as his legs would allow him. Branches thwacked him hard in the face, and the thorns and roots of the underbrush threatened to trip him up, but he refused to stop. The fear-invoking sounds got farther and farther away until they eventually faded, but that didn’t stop Colm from running. Before he even realized it, he went crashing through the edge of the forest and out into the field, falling flat onto his face.

He pushed himself up with his arms, his legs already scurrying under him, and stumbled the rest of the way towards the stable, collapsing against one of the stable walls once he had run inside. He looked up to see Wings in his stall, staring at him with curious wide eyes and ears pricked forward.
“Hey, what do you think you're doing?”
Colm looked up into the hayloft above the stable, this one much larger and nicer than the last, complete with a window and a place for a small heater, to see Emma looking down at him from her perch on a small stool next to her desk. “Uncle Morgan made it very clear that you weren’t allowed to be near the new stable until you finished working it off, and-”
She trailed off when she saw Colm’s messed up hair, sweaty forehead, and dirt-smudged clothes.
“What happened to you?”
Colm opened his mouth to speak, but then, thinking Emma would call him crazy if he told her what happened, shut it.
He turned away from the stable and mumbled “None of your business weirdo.” over his shoulder.

Colm trudged up to the hill in the moonlight towards the house. His father was sitting at the dining room table over a stack of papers when he walked in. “Father,” Colm began.
Morgan interrupted him. “Colm! What did I tell you about being back inside before dark? You disobeyed me! Get to bed, and make sure to clean yourself up.” He eyed Colm’s clothes with annoyance and then looked up into his son’s face to see fear staring back at him. “Colm, you alright?” Colm tried to explain what he had experienced. “Dad… I saw something really creepy in the woods.”
Morgan raised an eyebrow, curious. “Go on.”

Colm recalled all that had happened and told his father everything… except for the voice he heard in his head; he kept that part secret.
When he had finished with his tale, his father stood up from his chair and rubbed his eyebrows with one hand. “Colm, if that is your best excuse for being out so late-“
“It’s not an excuse!” Colm broke in.
His father sighed and put a hand on Colm’s shoulder. “Perhaps you haven’t had enough water… you’re likely dehydrated and that caused you to hallucinate. Get some water and go clean yourself up. You ought to get some sleep.”
Colm opened his mouth to protest, but one look from his father made him shut it again.

Colm climbed the stairs to his room, grumbling. At the top step, he felt a sudden exhaustion flood his being and listlessly walked down the hallway to his room. He collapsed onto his bed, not even bothering to change clothes, and only managed to glance at the clock before he let himself fall asleep.

[windrider110]

Here chapter two… it’s been a while (sorry)




Chapter 2

Colm was running for his life. Every step he took caused the ground in that area to collapse into a dark abyss of nothingness that would swallow him up if he stopped. The sky was so red it appeared to be bleeding, and Colm’s vision was distorted by a thick haze of white as if a film had been placed directly on his eyes. Noises were flooding his ears, high-pitched ringing, and deep, guttural cries of agony. The ground he was running on changed, taking on the consistency and color of tar. He felt himself beginning to sink and continue to struggle onward, refusing to be sucked into the abyss. Figures oozed up from the ground, forming into dark shapes that resembled wolves, all with yellow eyes. Eventually, Colm couldn’t run anymore and found himself to be sinking rapidly. He squeezed his eyes shut and covered his ear with his hands before screaming “Stop!” At that moment Colm felt a burst of energy shoot forth from him and the ringing went silent. When he opened his eyes he saw fire everywhere- everywhere except on him. The figures of the wolves shrieked and disappeared as soon as the fire came close, and the ground stopped pulling him in. Colm felt his heart begin to slow, and then, at once, the fire came rushing towards him in great waves, swallowing him up and making his vision go white.

Colm sat up, sweating.

He was in his bed. In his room. In his house. And he was still dirty. Colm rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off his fear and shock of his nightmare. It was only a dream after all, right? He looked over at his nightstand at the clock beside the lamp that he forgot to turn off. It was only an hour and a half later than when he had fallen asleep. Colm groaned and walked from his room into the dim hallway that was partially lit by the light downstairs. He trudged into the bathroom to wash his face and then back into his room to grab some clean clothes. As he rummaged around he glanced up the window and froze.

There was a strange purple-ish light beaming in behind the curtain, almost like moonlight. Colm slowly stood up, nervous, and crept to the window. His eyes widened at the scene before him: the stables appeared to be glowing in an ethereal light that radiated soft hues of purple and white. Was that Emma’s doing? Did it have to do with what happened in the woods or his nightmares? Colm had to find out.

He tiptoed down the stairs, crept through the hallway, and peered around the wall that blocked off the kitchen from the hallway to see if his father was still at the table. He wasn’t. Colm seized the moment to grab his shoes and slip out of the front door. The dark sky was illuminated by a thousand colors, and Colm looked up to see the Northern Lights shining over him. He felt himself slipping down the hill as he ran toward the stable and had to regain his balance numerous times. The closer he came to the stables the brighter the glow seemed, until it was almost blinding altogether. Colm heard soft whispering and snuffling noises, and peered around the corner, putting a hand up to block the light. He gasped at what he saw. Wings was out of his stall, Emma standing next to him, her hand resting on his neck. Wings whinnied once and tossed his dark mane. From his silver back sprouted two great, glossy, and powerful wings, and all of the other horses in the stables began to stamp their feet as if cheering him on.

Colm’s mouth dropped open.

“Wings'' really did have wings! That had to be impossible. Horses with wings didn’t even exist, and yet here Wings was, standing right in front of Colm's eyes. He had to tell Dad about this! Maybe his family could be the first to ever discover a real live Pegasis and become famous or something, and Colm would finally not have to work anymore! Maybe his parents would believe him for once and Emma would be the one in trouble because she apparently had known about it all along and kept it secret. Colm sprinted up the hill as fast as he could run and burst through the front door. His father wasn’t at the table, so Colm hurried past it down into the hallway that led to the living room. The room had beige walls that were lit up by old furnished lamps, and two red couches were sitting at a ninety-degree angle with a wooden coffee table placed in the middle. Morgan and Cynthia Roland were sitting on one of the couches and appeared to be deep in discussion when Colm walked in. Both stopped talking and looked up. Cynthia looked at Morgan and said, “I thought you said he was in bed.” Her husband looked from her to Colm and answered “He was. Colm, why are you back up?”

Before Colm could answer and tell him what he had seen, however, Morgan continued. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. We actually have matters to discuss with you, and while we were going to save it for tomorrow, I suppose we can talk about it now.”
“Dad,” Colm began.
“Hold on son, this is important. You see, your mother and I have plans to further expand the ranch, and we have been thinking of buying more land to the west of us. However, the person who owns the land is overseas and wants us to meet with him to discuss purchasing his land in person, so your mother and I are going to be traveling for three days to do this. Mrs. Bridget agreed to stay and watch you and Emma while we are gone. We will be leaving tomorrow”
“Dad! You’re never going to believe this-” Colm began.
“Colm!” Cynthia interrupted. “Were you even listening?”
“Yes, I was, it's just that Emma’s colt Wings…”
Morgan sighed. “Colm, I don't want to hear any more stories about Emma. We both know that she's gone through enough, first with the accident and then with the stable fire. Enough of trying to get her into trouble, you hear me, young man?”

Honestly, that was fair. Emma had been through a lot. About a year ago, her parents had been the ones who owned the ranch but had tragically died in a car accident, leaving Emma and the ranch under the care of Colm’s parents. Emma had lost her beloved Shetland pony, Mischief, after the stable fire caused him to have to be sold, and Wings had almost died. Emma had been through so much, and yet Colm constantly tried more than once to spin tales about her to try and get his cousin into trouble. But that wasn’t what he was doing now, this was different!

“Please, just listen to me. Wings has…” He tried again.
“Wings has what?” Cynthia narrowed her eyes.
“Wings!” Colm cried.
Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Wings has wings? Of course, he does.”
Colm took a step back. “You knew?!” he gasped, incredulous.
Morgan rolled his eyes. “Yup, Wings has sprouted great, big, feathery wings, and let me guess? We actually live in Alaska and I’m planning to travel to the moon.”
“You don't believe me.” Colm whispered, and then shouted “I’m not lying about this, I swear I’m not! I saw-”
“Colm, enough.” Morgan’s tone was gruff and his face had darkened. “ Go back to bed and stop bothering your cousin and us with these stories. You have more work to do tomorrow and so does she.”

Colm felt a lump in his throat begin to form, but he forced himself to swallow it. “Please,” He began.
But his parents would have none of it. “Colm. Go. To. Your. Room. End of discussion.”
Colm turned away and stomped up the stairs into his room, trying to force the small tears that had formed in his eyes back down. He was going to find a way to show them that he was right. He was going to prove it somehow! Going to his bedside dresser, Colm grabbed the clear glass that sat on top and went to the bathroom to fill it up. He brushed his teeth, and spat loudly into the sink, almost hoping his parents had heard it.

As he returned to his room, Colm drank out of his glass, moistening his dry mouth, and walked over to the window. Pushing back the curtain, he saw that the ghostly glow was no longer coming from the stables, and he sighed. He was about to turn away when he glanced up at the star-filled sky. Colm almost choked on the water when he saw a very small, silvery speck rushing skywards. He shook his head, trying to clear it, but when he gazed skyward once again, the figure was gone.

Blinking several times, Colm searched the sky, but the figure did not emerge again. He walked over to his bed and flipped in, pulling the covers over himself. Just as he was about to shut his eyes, he spied something on a nearby shelf. It was a camera that had been given to him by his aunt, Emma’s mother, for his birthday one year. He had barely used it and pretty much forgotten about it over time. The more Colm stared at it, the more of an idea began to form in his head. Of course! That camera could change everything! All he had to do was get a picture of Wings and his parents would never doubt him again! Colm let himself fall asleep with a smirk on his face.

[windrider110]

Chapter Three:


Colm jolted awake, realizing that he had overslept.

He looked at the clock and realized that he had slept in for two hours. That was strange… his father or mother would have woken him up by now to start work, like mucking out the stables… Wings! The memories from the night before came flooding back, and Colm threw back the covers of his bed. He bolted downstairs, almost tripping at the end, and darted through the front door towards the stables. Had it all been a dream? Was Wings really a flying horse? How had he never seen this happen before? Had something strange happened last night, or had this happened before? What did Emma know? Colm slowed when he came closer to the stables in case Emma was close by. He didn’t want to risk getting caught here again. Colm peered around the corner of the stable and, once he saw that the coast was clear, crept quietly to Wing’s stall. It was empty. Colm glanced left and right, looking around for the young horse, when he heard a small snort coming from the other side of the stables farther from the house. When he went to investigate, he found Emma, brush in hand, grooming Wings coat. Colm’s eyebrows shot up, and he felt a confused and annoyed glare begin to form on his face when he saw that Wing's back was bare. No blanket, no saddle, and especially no wings. Maybe he had dreamed it all…
Emma looked up and spotted him pressed against the wall. “Colm!” She bossed, “You know you’re not supposed to be near the stables. I’m going to tell Uncle Morgan about this if you can’t listen to what he told you to do!”

Colm felt his face twist into a sneer, and before he could even think about it shot back “How about you shut up and mind your own business, K’ ? I’m not even bothering you anyway.” before rolling his eyes and tromping away. He felt somewhat guilty, but suppressed it, like always. Colm walked back up to the house, its white paint of the wooden exterior glistening with dew drips reflecting the morning sun and walked inside to look for his parents. When he trotted into the living room, he found Mrs. Bridget sitting on one of the sofas, a small purple-covered book in one hand and a pen in the other. On the coffee table sat a tea kettle, steaming a bit, on a coaster. Two empty teacups had been arranged next to the kettle, and on the other side sat a plate of biscuits. Mrs. Bridget looked up from her book and smiled, her blue eyes twinkling. “Well, look who’s up. Malcolm, dear, I’ve been expecting you.”

Colm gulped a bit. He had always been afraid of Mrs Bridget ever since the Dowager’s death and had made it a point to keep out of sight when she was over at the ranch. Colm avoided her eyes and asked “Where are my parents?” before glancing back at the doorway as if they were standing directly behind him.

Mrs. Bridget answered when he faced her again, and Colm thought he saw her eyes soften just a bit in the time that they met his. “They left very early this morning before even the sun rose. I was instructed to get you up a bit afterward, but I decided to wait.” Colm looked up from the ground where he had been studying his own feet, causing Mrs. Bridget to wink at him.
Colm was so lost in thought that he merely managed a “Yeah, thanks.” His parents hadn’t even said goodbye. He was used to being ignored from time to time, but they barely went on trips. Surely they would have remembered, right?

Mrs Bridget patted the empty space on the couch beside her. “Sit down dear, perhaps some tea will liven your spirits.” Colm looked at the wall, stating intensely. “Uh, thanks, but I don’t really want any tea… I need to get to work.” He would have much rather slacked off from his work and been spoiled, but he was afraid that Mrs. Bridget would start asking questions about Dowager, for she no doubt knew that it was Colm’s fault that her horse was dead.

Mrs Bridget sighed in a way that almost sounded sad but smiled at Colm and said “Very well then. I believe your first task was to pull the weeds out near your father’s shed. But before that, you might want to change into some work clothes. She chuckled as she eyed Colm's pajamas and Colm felt himself cringe slightly. He nodded silently and turned away.

As Colm slowly climbed the stairs, his mind began to drift to the strange things that had happened so suddenly. Of course it had to be like this. The one day he saw something potentially life-changing for the ranch, his parents decided to go on a boat trip. Colm tightened his jaw at the top step and walked into his room to get into something other than his pajamas. A couple of minutes later he was trotting back down the stairs in work jeans and a whitish-tan polo shirt with permanent dirt stains on the back and sleeves. But he had something else as well, for his camera was now stashed in his back pocket, and he was determined to get proof of Wing’s secret. It couldn’t have been a dream. Sure, it definitely felt like a dream, but it also felt so…real. First the terror in the woods, and then seeing Wings…it couldn’t have been a coincidence, and Colm vowed to prove everything.
………………………………………………………

Nothing much happened the first day, for Colm wasn’t able to find a good time to get close to the stables without getting caught. Mrs. Bridget kept a close watch on him that night, and Colm ended up trapped in the house, only able to look at the stables through the windows. He went to bed that night very disappointed and frustrated, vowing to do better the next day.
Yet, the second day was nothing but a repeat of the first, and Colm began to worry that he would get proof of what he saw before his arents got home. Theyre going to be home tomorrow night, he told himself, something needs to change. He went to sleep trying to devise a plan to distract Mrs. Bridget long enough for him to slip away to the stables.

That night he had another nightmare, but this one felt different. Instead of fleeing from some terrible force, he was the one being fled from. And yet, Colm didn’t want to be the one chasing, he wanted those running from him to come back. They were the horses that lived at their ranch and were galloping away from him in all directions, neighing in fright. Along with the neighs came voices, voices that cried “Stop!” “Monster!” “You killed her!” “You will kill us too!” “Dowager, oh Dowager…” Colm ran after them, trying to yell over the many voices. “Wait! Please! It was an accident, I didn’t mean to kill her! I didn’t…I didn’t!”

The rest came out as a whisper: “I promise…” and all of the horses suddenly disappeared in a gust of wind as the scene changed from one of darkness to one of white and blue. Colm found himself face to face with a giant wall of ice so tall that he was unable to see the top; it merely disappearing into a thick white fog. Colm looked around him to see that he was trapped between four giant walls of ice. He could see a distorted, blurry figure against the ice. Walking closer for a better look, Colm saw the blur form into the dark shape of a horse and stopped. It wasn’t just a horse, however, but a powerful black stallion with a dark and messy mane. At first glance, it could easily be mistaken for any normal horse, except for the fact that there was black powder flaking off of it, and its flank was covered in dull streaks of reddish-brown, almost looking like veins.

Colm tilted his head, and to his surprise, the stallion did the same. He took a step backward, uncertain, and so did the great horse. The stallion was copying him! At the exact same moment he moved….

Colm’s curiosity and confusion quickly turned into terrified realization and he walked closer to the blurry looing horse. The stallion fully came into focus and Colm realized what he was looking at: a reflection of himself! The ice was nothing more than a hazy mirror. Colm looked down to see hooves instead of feet and fear began to work its way into his chest.

He looked up to see the horse - him - glowing red, as the dark vein-like streaks across his flank began to light up, turning molten in coloration. The powder began to flake off in all directions and covered the ice in soot and char. Colm heard a terrible sizzling and crackling noise and looked down to see the ice around his feet beginning to melt. This only caused the fear to get worse and worse, and the first streaks got brighter and hotter. Colm tried to calm himself down but it was to no avail. The cracking got louder and more frequent and suddenly the ice collapsed entirely into darkness, taking Colm with it.

The last thing Colm heard was his own bloody scream mixed with the fearful high-pitched whinny of the horse he had become before the darkness took him and his mind was filled with nothing but fear.

[windrider110]

Chapter Four: (sorry it’s short)

Colm didn’t get out of bed the next morning, but instead stared at the ceiling as he laid on his back. His throat was dry, and he needed water, but Colm knew that his legs wouldn’t let him. They were doing something he had never experienced before: they were shaking. It felt as if someone had placed a giant weight on Colm’s chest, making it difficult to get enough air. The white ceiling appeared as if it were getting closer and closer as the room was closing in around him.

Colm felt something shake his arm. He jumped a bit to see Mrs. Bridget standing beside his bed. He hadn’t even seen her enter the room. “Colm, are you alright?’ Mrs. Bridget’s voice was tinged with worry. Colm pulled himself up into a sitting position. Mrs. Bridget’s worried expression changed into one of relief when he nodded, and she continued. “You had me worried for a second; I said your name but you weren’t responding, only staring up at the ceiling above you.”
Colm averted her gaze and managed an “Oh, uh, sorry Mrs. Bridget.” before swallowing to moisten his dry throat. “Colm.”
Colm looked back up to see Mrs. Bridget’s eyes staring intently back into his. And for some reason, Colm didn’t look away, even though he wanted to. Something strange was compelling him, just like he had been compelled by the purple light of the stables the night Wings changed. As soon as Wings entered his mind, he saw Mrs. Bridget’s expression change into one of understanding. Colm felt his heart lurch. Could she read minds? Colm’s eyes shot away and he lowered his head.
He felt Mrs. Bridget put her hand on his shoulder. “How about you take today off, hmm? I sense that you may need a break from working day in and day out. Don’t worry about the chores, I can take care of them. I think you ought to explore a bit. Get your mind off of stress… you’ve seemed a bit tense lately.”
Colm nodded, and Mrs. Bridget smiled. “I’ll leave you to get dressed then.
Colm looked down at what he was wearing and, to his chagrin, realized that he was still in his pajamas.
………………………………………………………
Colm spent most of his day reading his favorite comics and walking around the ranch. He was too afraid to venture back into his fort in the woods after what had happened last time, and had decided not to get close to the stables until dark so that Emma wouldn’t see him sneaking around. Nighttime was the perfect time to get a picture, and Colm was just biding his time.
By the time the sun began to set, Colm already had a plan to distract Mrs. Bridget. Colm assisted with washing and putting away dishes once he, Emma, and Mrs. Bridget had eaten dinner. He stacked glasses back in the cupboard and, after checking to see if Mrs. Bridget wasn’t looking, slid one of the glass cups close to the edge and shut the cupboard door. All it would take was the door to open a bit forcefully and the cup would fall and shatter everywhere.
Colm showered and went to bed early, waiting for the time of night hat he had last seen the purple glow emerge from the stables. He could barely contain his excitement mixed with worry. What if he looked out the window and nothing happened? What if his plan didn’t work and the glasses somehow didn’t shatter? What if he really had been hallucinating this whole time. Colm looked at his clock and, to his chagrin, saw that it was only 9:30. He stared at the ceiling, telling himself that he could wait. He’d wait for however long it’d take.

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Colm sat up in bed with a start. He had set an alarm on his watch in case he ended up falling asleep by accident and it was now beeping and vibrating loudly on his arm. He turned it off and looked at the clock. 1:30. Almost time. Colm slid the covers off of himself and began to pace back and forth with his arms folded behind his back, looking back at the clock every couple of minutes. Finally, the time arrived. Colm looked out the window at the stables. His heart sank. The stables were nothing more than a dark silhouette in the field, nothing was glowing, and nothing appeared out of sorts.
He turned away from the window and sighed. It wasn’t real. None of it. Perhaps his father had been right about the woods and he had been dehydrated, perhaps Wings having wings really was just a dream. “I’m such an idiot.” Colm muttered. He rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers through his disheveled hair. He blinked a couple of times.

And then Colm looked down at his sheets.

It looked as if shining a light down on them. A light coming from… the window! Colm whirled around and gasped. It almost looked as if the northern lights themselves, a beautiful phenomenon he had only seen pictures of and read about in books, had descended onto the stable roof, beams of light dancing across it. He stood there, dumb struck, until it hit him. The plan!

Colm slunk downstairs and crept into the kitchen, widening his eyes so that it would be easier to see. Mrs. Bridget, who sat in a chair right next to the front door, slept as light as a cat. There was no way Colm could try to sneak past her. He felt his way to the cupboard, grasped the handle, and gave opened the door with a hard yank. Before he could even think, he felt himself jump back and an ear-splitting shatter echoed across the room. He heard Mrs. Bridget gasp and jolt awake and suddenly the room was bathed in light, causing Colm to shield his eyes.

When he finally pulled his hand away the first thing he looked upon was Mrs. Bridget, standing in her pajamas with one hand on the light switch and the other over her mouth. Colm pretended to be in shock. “I..I just wanted to get some water…” he lied. Mrs. Bridget composed herself and looked down at the floor. “Oh Colm dear, this is quite the mess.” She looked back up at him and, seeing his startled expression, softened her eyes a little. “I’m certain the crash startled you even more than it startled me however. Here, be careful when stepping over the glass and take this.” She rummaged around in another cupboard, (this one close to her) and pulled out a plastic cup. “You can fill this up with water at the sink. Dont worry about the mess, none of these glasses shattered into incredibly small prices from what I can tell, so it won’t be too difficult to clean.” Colm put on a look of guilt and slight gratitude, but this time it wasn’t fake. “Really, are you sure? I can help with the mess… I feel terrible.” Mrs. Bridget shook her head and smiled. “You have enough work to do around here already, just take this and get some rest dear.” Colm thanked her again, gingerly stepped over the glass, and took the cup.
Colm walked back out of the kitchen towards the stairs, but instead of walking up them, he turned left and walked right past them, glancing behind him at the dark opened by that led to the living room at the end of the hall, trying not to let the darkness psych him out. He was thankful that there was a wall between him and Mrs. Bridget, or she would have seen him walking down to the dining room. Colm silently crept to the front door. Here, right beside it, sat the chair that Mrs. Bridget had occupied not two minutes ago. Colm listened to hear Mrs. Bridget sweeping up the glass shards and felt another pang of guilt. He clenched his teeth and quietly unlocked the front door. He had to do this. This was likely the only chance he’d get.
Colm laid his hand in the door knob and stopped, feeling his heart freeze up. The camera!
Colm tiptoed back towards the hallway and to the stairs , glancing back at the opening of the kitchen straight across. Mrs. Bridget was turned around and Colm quietly darted upstairs as quickly and quietly as possible and hurried into his room. The camera was lying on his shelf, just like it had been the night he had began to think of this idea. Colm felt a rush of excitement and snuck back downstairs, stopping at the last step. He heard the very brief sound of glass and didn't see Mrs. Bridget in the kitchen doorway, which meant that she was more likely next to the wall between it and the dining room. Colm turned the handle and crept outside to see that the stables were still surrounded by light. Colm wasn’t sure what he was about to see, maybe Emma was going to sprout wings next? He got his camera ready.