Sarah opened her eyes, her head aching, spinning. Everything was wrong, upside down. She smelled gas and mud. What had happened?
The horse, the wreck, it all came flooding back, setting her heart to pounding. She had to get out of there, she had to get help. He house was less than a mile down the road ... maybe only half a mile ... She pulled at her seatbelt, tight across her chest and lap, holding her into the upside-down car.
The buckle released suddenly and fell with a thump onto the dented roof. Groaning, she rolled over and began to crawl out through the broken window.
Out of the corner of her eye, something moved. She turned her head, her neck stiff and protesting, and stared at a pair of shiny black hooves sinking into the wet earth. Her mouth went dry as she raised her eyes, following the soot black socks up to powerful, blood-red legs and a broad, barrel chest.
The red horse lowered his head, his breath warm on her face, but rank with the stench of blood. He stared down at her, lying on the ground half-out of her wrecked car, and drew his black lips back in a fearsome smile, revealing a pair of gleaming fangs.
She screamed and the horse lunged, sinking his fangs into her soft, warm throat, her blood thick and hot and sweet as it filled his mouth. He gulped it down, ignoring her hands as they clawed at his face. Scratches were nothing compared to the raging hunger inside him, endless, aching, an emptiness he never could fill, no matter how much he drank, no matter how many he killed.
Her hands fluttered against his hide, weakened, fell back to the ground. Her cries grew silent, her breath weak, then gone. Her blood became sluggish and he sucked at the wound, drawing it out in great mouthfuls. More, he needed more.
There was no more. Frustrated, he bit down, crunching and tearing, ripping out a hunk of flesh. He didn't eat flesh. He spat it out beside the body and licked at the gaping hole, searching for just one more drop. With a snort he raised his head and turned away, heading back up onto the road to wait for the next car.
