SLIP- "Be careful, the blood makes the cliffs slippery."

    Prolouge

My boots flexed upwards in my stirrups, my toes trying to get release from the tight, burning leather. My fingers knotted themselves into Maral's seemingly opaque gray mane nervously. A low nicker escaped the horse's throat, his chest heaving shakily as he did so.
My eyes were wandering frantically to find Kalep. This was his first year running the Appan Foot-he would be more nervous than me. Its mine too, and its nerve racking; you sweat. A lot. Uncontrollably. It's like you forget everything else but to stay on your mount. Some people even forgot that. I wouldn't. Not like some people- I wouldn't let the race;death, take me so easily.

It all went away at the shrill ringing of the starting whistle.

    As his hooves drove us down the rock face, I couldn't help looking back. A black mare had made a misstep, and her footing gone a-wall. A sharp whinny exploded from her lips as she went tumbling down the cliff, a lanky blonde boy hanging on hopelessly to her mane. Even from where we were, you could hear the crunch of their bodies meet the rock, and feel their final moments in the ground's faint tremble. Disbelief ripped at my heart, but I had to keep going. I said a silent, tear-swallowed goodbye to whoever had lost their life that first stride of the race. Full realization of the fact we probably wouldn't make it out alive flooded over me.

*************************
  I ran my fingers through the thick, tangled gray mane of my stallion. His white head craned over my shoulder lazily, gowing heavy with sleep. I lulled him softly, his dark eyes sealing shut. He exhailed deeply, and I maneouvered myself out from under him. His head jerked back up, and he eyed me, his ears erect. As I exited his stall, he let out a low nicker, and returned to his relaxed position. I locked the stall door, the metal clanging togther loudly.

    The old wooden steps leading up to the two-room house creacked and threatened to give way underneath my feet as I hastily pranced up them. As soon as I opened the screen door, the strong smell of garlic was clouded in the air. The atmosphere in the house was humid and warm compared to outside-Doreen was making soup. Her messy blonde hair was tied tightly behind her head as she stirred the concauction of vegetables. She smiled warmly at me, beckoning me over to her with a waving hand. She lifted a wooden spoon from the broth, and held it up to my face. "Blow." She ordered. I did. The soup rippled underneath my breath, and she practically stuffed it into my mouth. The whole of me began to thaw from the crisp winter weather outside."It's duck and onion." She informed pridefully. "Good?" I nodded my head vigorously, longing for a bowl. I reached over the stove, but she swatted my hand away. "It'll be ready in a while, can you just be patient, Lexin?" Doreen growled, her brow furrowing.                                                                                                            "Sorry," I mumbled, trudging out from the main room into the sleeping quarters.

      Two beds lay side by side, both small and uncomfortable. To the left of one was a wicker box where I kept my clothing. I leaped onto the creaky bed, my knees hitting the matress before anything else. I unzipped my vest, tossing it to the floor, and peeled a brown sweater over my head. I attempted to smooth my curly brown hair down, but it sprung back up effortlessly. I opened the wicker box, and pulled one of my mother's old shirts. The sleeves were a little too long, but I liked it. It smelled of horses and faded perfume. I flopped back onto the bed, my head hitting an airy pillow. I allowed myself to curl up in a wool blanket, and fall asleep until Doreen was finished preparing dinner.

      My eyes flutterd open lazily. The smell of garlic and duck was no longer hanging in the air. I had probably slept through indicated soup-time. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I realized Doreen was already in bed, her breathing even, and chest rising and falling slowly. I stood up out of the cot, and wrapped the wool blanket loosly around my shoulders. I walked quickly into the other room, afraid if I didn't step lightly, I would make a loud creaking in the wood which could wake Doreen. I walked past the pot of cold soup towards the front door. Crickets seranaded me, as if to say, 'It's just you, Lexin.' No, I thought, You crickets are here with me, too. I opened the door, cold air nipping at my face.