CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

Trinket and Strapper walked down to the fenced patch at the back of the house to fetch two horses while Jane waited at the hut, resting her injuries. It had taken Trinket ten minutes to convince Strapper to loan her the horses. It was only when Trinket said the name ‘Elion’ that Strapper had begun to take the concept seriously. Strapper stomped off through the long grass in a pair of boots, his night shirt swirling around his legs, while Trinket followed with her fast, triangular movement.

Jane leaned on a porch post, and let her sore shoulder hang. In the silence she could hear all kinds of strange noises coming from inside the hut. It sounded like little creatures mumbling to each other, having actual conversations.

In a short time Trinket and the mountain man came up through the herd of goats leading two horses. The first horse was bluish-white in the moonlights. It shook its head nervously. Its eyes were open too wide. A brown horse followed sullenly, its head down, not paying attention to the goats.

Jane stepped out into the long grass in front of the hut and took the reins holding the white horse from Strapper. The horse looked at her, and assessed her. Jane put a hand against the side of its head and whispered hello. The horse made a nervous snort.

’You won’t make it in time,’ Strapper said to Trinket.

‘Yes we will,’ Trinket retorted. She was checking the halter and the saddle.

‘Speckled duck landing is a half day ride and you …’ Strapper stopped talking. He had just realised some dark truth. ‘You are fixing to take my horses through the Frogswamp, aren’t you?’

‘I wouldn’t be that stupid,’ Trinket answered.

‘I know you Trinket … I know what a sneaky elf you are.’

‘Don’t call me an elf.’

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‘The lunatic swamp hogs will tear the horses to pieces.’

Trinket shook her head, but didn’t say anything.

‘Are you listening to me … elf?’

Trinket swung on the little man and pointed a long, sharp finger at him. ‘Stop calling me elf.’

‘Don’t take my horses through the frog swamp.’

The little man narrowed his eyes and stared at Trinket, and for a moment Jane thought that he was going to rescind his offer to loan the horses.

Changing the subject, Trinket’s voice became a little sing-song. ‘Could I borrow a bow and a quiver from you?’

Something murderous came into Strapper’s voice. ‘NO.’

Trinket waved a hand in the air as though she didn’t care.

‘When you get to Speckled Duck landing,’ said Strapper. ‘Slap the horses and they will find their way back to me.’

‘Let’s go,’ said Trinket. She compressed then sprang into the air, and swept her long green right leg over the horse. Her green hair swept.

‘Baaah,’ said Strapper, unimpressed by Trinket’s spectacular mount. He turned and wander past Jane, back to his hut.

*

Trinket and Jane rode as fast as they dared in the dark through the thick woods. The movement of the horse beneath Jane brought on new pain, but also relief. Finally her tired muscles could slump, hanging like butchered meat beneath her skin.

The trail descended the mountain in a series of steep traverses, switching back on itself over and over. The horses knew where they were going and all Jane had to do was clamp her knees, hold the pommel and grit her teeth.

A full moon cast a strong blue light that put moving shadows of horses' legs across the ferns and shrubs and boulders and trunks of trees.

Lightning flickered way down to the south.

Occasionally Jane stood in the stirrups to stretch the bouncing pain out of her hip. The horse between her legs moved with a deep rhythm. They moved quickly without galloping, and Jane wondered if they were making good enough time.

The animal track that had been switching back all the way down the mountain finally began to widen, and the stick and stone strewn surface turned into a smooth wide surface of sand.

The horses settled into an easy canter.

Presently they came up on two large boulders on the left of the path, the boulders as big as haystacks. Chiselled into the boulders were the words ‘Bleached Bone Trail’. Beneath these words was the single word ‘Frogswamp.’ A narrow path emerged from between the boulders to join the main path.

Trinket reined in her horse and turned to Jane with a mischievous look on her face. She said, ‘So it turns out … we are going through the Frogswamp.’