WeatherMaker Hearts Desire Prologue
Chapter 71: The Scary Horse

Amaia was reunited with Arlen and Carl the next day, after spending the night at the healers. Farrell insisted on this, just to be safe. Although White Feather argued that she was fine, he followed Amaia to the healers and stayed with her overnight to keep her company. In the morning, the two of them met Arlen and Carl.

‘I have something to tell you’ Farrell said to them.

‘What happened?’ Carl asked with concern. ‘Why was Amaia at the healers?’

Farrell was about to speak when White Feather, who had until that point been invisible, suddenly appeared right before him.

Carl cried out in shock, stumbling and falling back. White Feather threw his head back in laughter, holding his sides as they began to ache. ‘That was so much fun!’ White Feather cackled, wiping tears from his eyes, bent doubled over. ‘Why haven’t I done that before?’

‘How did you…?’ Carl gasped in astonishment.

Arlen went to help him up, watching White Feather curiously with a frown. Carl stood, dusting himself off.

‘What’s going on?’ Arlen asked Amaia slowly. ‘Who is this man?’

‘Oh I’m not a man’ White Feather sang to him. He moved close to Arlen almost seductively, humming happily to himself and brushing Arlen’s cheek with the back of his hand.

He giggled suddenly, jumping back and vanishing.

The others glanced about them, looking for him, but he was nowhere to be seen.

‘Is he always like this?’ Farrell asked Amaia.

‘I think he’s in an unusually good mood’ she explained.

‘Why?’

‘Because’ White Feather answered reappearing between them, ‘I’ve found Amaia again’ he said, turning towards her and squeezing her in a tight hug.

‘Who is this?’ Arlen asked Farrell. ‘Where did he come from?’

White Feather vanished again, the others at first thought he had just disappeared, until they realised he had shrunk down in size. They saw him; he was tiny now, sitting on Amaia’s shoulder.

His familiar place.

He stood, holding her earlobe to stop himself falling off, reaching up on tip toes and whispering into her ear, giggling and disappearing again.

‘His name is White Feather’ Farrell told Carl and Arlen. ‘He’s a fairy.’

‘A fairy?’ Carl echoed.

‘A guardian angel’ Farrell explained. ‘Some Weather Makers are followed by fairies.’

‘Annabel wasn’t’ Arlen replied.

‘Not all of them are followed by fairies’ Farrell went on. ‘They appear to Weather Makers that are in danger….apparently.’

‘If they are able’ White Feather added having returned to normal size and coming to stand beside them. ’If there is one nearby. We are bound to Weather Makers, we sense their presence; we feel their pain and joy.’ He sighed happily, moving to Amaia and holding her around the waist, resting his head upon her shoulder. ‘We love them’ he sighed again, becoming still as if he were falling asleep.

‘White Feather was the one who helped me escape the place where Tristan kept me imprisoned’ Amaia explained. ‘He helped me and protected me when I needed him. He stood between the king and myself and protected me from him, protected me from harm…….that’s what happened to his eye, and where the scars that cover him now came from. I owe him my life. If he hadn’t protected me, I might not be here now.’ She held him back, holding him tight. ‘I love him too.’

‘He was the one you were praying for’ Farrell realised. ‘When you went by the name Layla, back at the temple.’

‘Yes’ Amaia said. ‘And I realise now what was wrong with me earlier. Weather Makers and fairies are bound to one another, and without White Feather watching over me when I was reincarnated, I became lost.’

‘And now that you’ve got him back’ Carl said, ‘you are yourself again.’

‘Yes’ Amaia said letting White Feather go. ‘When I died again, to escape Tristan, I woke alone, and without White Feather, I was missing something, but I didn’t know what it was……because I lost my memory. White Feather was the piece I was missing.’

‘It’s good to see you smile again’ Carl told her.

‘It’s good to be able to smile again’ Amaia replied.

She moved away from White Feather then, stepping towards Carl and leaning forward to kiss him, holding both his hands in hers.

‘Hey’ White Feather said moving close to Arlen again. ‘Do you want to see mine?’ sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ Find ɴøᴠel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

‘What?’ he stammered.

‘Oh White Feather’ Amaia frowned, rounding on him with her hands upon her hips. ‘Stop teasing people.’

‘But it’s so much fun!’

‘White Feather’ Amaia said sternly. She spoke to the others. ‘He wants to show you his wings.’

‘Wings?’ Farrell echoed.

White Feather closed his eyes. A white light grew from his back and he smiled, revealing four, long thin glass-like wings. They were beautiful, with black veins running down them, looking almost like spider web patterns, or the patterns on a leaf.

The others stared at them in awe. Arlen reached out to touch one.

‘Extraordinary’ he breathed. ‘They’re absolutely incredible.’

A few days later, Farrell and Arlen both bought Amaia a gift.

They walked down the street towards Amaia who waited, the beautiful black mare they led following after them. Standing either side of Amaia were White Feather and Carl.

Amaia gasped at the sight of it. ‘A black horse? I thought they were really rare.’

‘Not if you know where to get one’ Farrell told her smugly.

‘Happy birthday’ Arlen beamed, handing the reins over to her.

‘My birthday?’

‘It’s today’ Farrell grinned. ‘Don’t you know?’

Amaia gazed up at the beautiful black creature before her, a striking horse with a muscular build and a coat that shone like silk

‘Do you remember when you were very young’ Farrell said to Amaia, ‘many years ago, I promised to buy you a horse of your own one day?’

‘I like to play with the toy animals’ Amaia giggled, moving one of the decorative painted horses across the floor and pretending it was galloping.

‘Would you ever want a real horse?’ Farrell asked her.

‘Not one big and scary like Alastor. He’s so scary!’

Farrell chuckled to himself in amusement, reaching forwards and patting her hair.

‘Maybe I will get you one when you’re old enough to sit on one’ Farrell said.

‘Can I have it now?’ Amaia asked hopefully.

‘No’ Farrell told her sternly. ‘You’re still too young.’

‘I hate it when grownups tell me that!’ Amaia cried indignantly. ‘I can’t wait to grow up!’

‘Now don’t say things like that. You shouldn’t wish your life away.’

‘But I want to be taller and smarter’ Amaia complained. ‘Mama is so clever. I want to be like her.’

‘Well you just have to wait’ Farrell said.

‘I can’t wait to be tall and beautiful like mama’ Amaia went on. ‘She’s so beautiful.’

‘She is’ Farrell smiled warmly.

‘So when can I have my own horse?’

‘I told you’ Farrell said. ‘When you’re old enough to sit on one without falling off.’

‘Ok’ Amaia said becoming quickly distracted. ‘And I don’t want a scary one like Alastor. I want a nice one.’

‘Then I nice one you shall get.’

‘Good’ Amaia said shortly. ‘Just don’t forget about your promise.’

‘What a handsome creature’ Amaia said in awe, running her hand down the horse’s mane. ‘Not at all scary as I remember.’

She withdrew her hand, stepping back.’

‘I used to be so frightened of Alastor when I was young’ Amaia mumbled, almost speaking to herself. ‘Now I see he was just a horse.’

‘Where did you get it from?’ White Feather asked as he hovered beside Amaia.

‘We bought it’ Farrell shrugged. ‘Arlen and I.’

‘Aren’t they worth a lot?’

‘Yes’ Arlen said. ‘But we just happened to be in the right place at the right time. She was supposed to be a warhorse’ he explained admiring the mare, ‘but she didn’t quite make the grade, so she was sold on. That’s where we came in’ he winked.

‘Thank you’ Amaia said to the both of them. ‘It’s a wonderful gift.’

‘What are you going to name her?’ Carl asked.

Amaia hummed to herself thoughtfully.

‘Lucy’ she said after a time.

‘It’s a wonderful name’ Carl smiled.

White Feather sat on the rooftop above their heads, watching happily as Amaia rode away with Carl, mounted on a horse of his own. They rode side by side out of the town and across the open plains. Below him Farrell and Arlen parted ways.

‘At last’ White Feather sighed with contentment, ‘after all this time, Amaia finally has the life she deserves.’

He glanced around him then, expression darkening as he recognised a figure that stood on the edge of the tree line in the woods that grew near the town.

White Feather rose to his feet, unfurling his wings and flying over towards him.

White Feather appeared before the figure. Tristan did not seem at all surprised to see him there; it was almost as if he was expecting him to appear.

‘You are not welcome here’ White Feather told him firmly. ‘Amaia does not want you.’

Tristan did not answer; he only stared at White Feather in silence.

‘I will be watching her’ White Feather told him, ’and you. You have no place being here’ he said. ‘Go home.’

Tristan leant against the tree with his arms crossed; he stared back at White Feather with sunken eyes. ‘I have no home’ he answered in a dead voice. ‘My parents, my wife, my son…my new child…are all dead. Amaia is all I have left now.’

‘I don’t care’ White Feather glared at him. ‘Can’t you see she’s finally found happiness? She doesn’t care about you anymore.’

Tristan didn’t reply.

White Feather turned his back on him, facing the town now.

‘I will watch over Amaia’ he said to the world. ‘I will watch over her everyday….until she draws her last breath.’ He smiled happily, hugging himself. ‘My dear Amaia, I will always be there, but you must live your own life now, with your husband.’ He bowed his head. ‘I will always be there, always, watching from a distance……but there is one last thing I have to do.’

His body began to glow as his delicate wings grew from his back once more. He lifted into the sky, leaving behind him a trail of glowing light that faded as he went, leaving Tristan behind him as a ghost.

He travelled to a place he knew well, but had not visited in a long while. A small village far away.

White Feather landed gently on the soft earth, taking in his surroundings. The scenic village was peaceful, and the sun shone down brightly upon the open world. White Feather began to wander the village, moving slowly and gazing all about him at the people. Working in the fields, sitting outsides their homes, selling items from stalls, milking cows, he reacquainted himself with this familiar place.

It took only a short time for White Feather to find what he was looking for. He stopped outside the home of a couple called Anya and Roy, the people who had opened their home to he and Amaia after their daughter was taken.

White Feather saw a curious thing then. Sitting on a bench outside their home was a woman he had not seen before. He approached the house, unseen by all around him.

The woman was pretty, with long black hair; she looked to be about the same age as Amaia. Beside her sat a man. As the two talked together, White Feather noticed how they looked at each other, how they smiled at each other. The man placed a hand upon hers, and she leant towards him, giving him a kiss.

White Feather moved closer to her, freezing as she turned her head towards him and looked him right in the eye. He realised with a start that she could see him. Fairies had the ability to hide from others, but could not make themselves invisible to Weather Makers.

White Feather realised suddenly who this was, speaking out loud as a name came to his mind.

‘Annabel…’

White Feather stepped back, slipping out of sight away from her and moving around to the back of the house, where he found what he was looking for.

‘Hey guys’ he said to the horses. ‘Long time no see.’

He untied the two horses, mounting one and leading the other by rope. He travelled at a gentle pace, moving for days across the map, and back to the small town where Amaia had grown up in.

He dismounted the horse he rode, leading the both of them through the town as he walked. He searched for someone, but the old man was nowhere to be seen. White Feather stopped a passerby to ask.

‘Excuse me’ White Feather said to the young lady. ‘Do you know an old man who lives here named Walter?’

‘Walter?’ the woman repeated. ‘He was my grandfather. He’s dead now.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that’ White Feather bowed his head. ‘If that is the case, then I believe these are yours’ he said, handing the reins of both horses to her.

‘Ruby?’ the woman said incredulous as she recognised the horses. ‘Bell!’

She glanced back towards the stranger, but White Feather was gone.

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