In the mourning, I will rise,
In the mourning, I will let you die,
In the mourning, all my worries
Now there's nothing but time that's wasted,
And words that have no back bone.
Paramore – In the Mourning
I watch, heart beating, palms sweating, as the girl I wish to eventually marry races in The Scorpio Races. Sure, they brought my sister and her husband together, bounding them tighter and tighter until they became joined at the hip. Though, they waited until Puck turned twenty-one last year to get married. But, the races are deadly, poisonous.
I watch Lucy as her capall Uisce, a tall brilliantly white thing that Sean approved of, run faster and faster. I fear, however, that Hearth is not going fast enough. I try not to let my pessimism mar my enthusiasm for Lucy. I want her to win. Maybe, though, having Puck win when she needed to was where my luck ran out. That and having a girl like Lucy ask me to court her. It was bold move and I wish I had beaten her to it because every time I see her I feel awfully rude for leaving it down to her.
I know Lucy hasn't won because Sean Kendrick has. I didn't expect Lucy to beat him, but I know Sean was looking out for Lucy – just for me. It feels weird, having my brother in law watch out for the girl my heart beats faster and faster for. An odd, not entirely unpleasant sensation, I must admit.
Puck isn't racing today. She has raced every year since that first year four years ago. I see her in my peripheral; she's holding her stomach in a way that is meant to be discreet. I guess that's why she's not racing today.
I look for Lucy; I can't see her. Worry trickles into my system, as fresh as it was when I couldn't see Puck on that day four years ago. It's worse now, because I can't see Hearth. I can see all of the other water horses and their riders; none of them are Lucy and Hearth.
I hear a scream.
I recognise it.
I close my eyes for a fraction of a second before the decibels of the scream rise. My heart thuds faster and faster, and I see Puck, she's reaching for me, trying to impact my instincts. But it's too late. I see only red and can hear only the screams of Lucy.
Lucy's voice, fear and other states of being I can't recognise because I'm not used to hearing them in her voice echo in her intonation, calls out to me. It's merely my name, but because it's aimed at me I can locate where she is from it.
"Lucy!" I shout, just as loud and fear ridden.
I spot her. I wish I hadn't. My first thought is: she doesn't have a face, until I realise she has, it's just hidden under blood and a hoof.
I grab her hand. I don't know what to do. Hearth has run away – it's some other capall uisce that is killing her now. Lucy's eyes look into mine, fragile, vulnerable. I want to save her. I can't. I want to. I know that I . . .
I wake up in Sean's father's house.
I croak out, "Lucy . . ."
I hear Puck cluck sympathetically. Sean lets out a huff of breath. I know it's him because it oozes awkwardness.
"Finn," Puck starts, "Lucy . . . didn't exactly make it."
My heart explodes in my chest. She died. She couldn't have, but she did. It proves to me what I had been taught until my parents died and Puck disregarded their views by racing: the race is an awful thing. And it is. It a deadly game of life or death. It tears away your loved ones over pride. But, Lucy was doing it for the same reasons as Puck had, to save her brother. And now her brother will be alone as I feared I would be.