The Lust of Horns

NHEDRI I

I pondered on his words. 'You fear our home may be in peril?'

Father stiffened, and his brows drew together. 'Our home is in peril.'

We rode in silence for a time; Father never believed in rushing a conversation; that preeminent words were to be reflected upon. I was permitted to reflect. And I was permitted to respond.

'Whom?' I asked, looking to father for approval. The corner of his mouth turned up. I'd asked the right question.

'I am uncertain whom,' he whispered, looking off to the eastern horizon. 'But I am certain they are not from our world.'

'What are we to do?'

Father turned, and his eyes flashed upon me. "Your fifteenth summer is on the horizon... and you're on the eve of womanhood. It is time we match you to a Horn Lord."

I gasped, causing the warm liquid to run down the side of my thigh. I didn't need to look to know it was blood. 'B-but father.'

'You've grown into a Lady Hoof as bronze, fierce, and vigorous as your mother." I felt my cheeks turn pink. 'You need a man worthy of your brilliance.'

I should've known. Father had no sons and six daughters; each married to the great Horn Lords of the North: Heathren to the Boretaur Lord Gagrit of the Krowtz Clan; Janot to the Cervitaur Lord Tytork of the Aokee Clan; Rivae to the Satyr Lord, Jorn 'the Crude' of the Nakima Clan; Bethree to the Minotaur Lord Bajunn 'the Bludgeonhart' of the Krayko Clan; and Irainn to the Centaur Lord, Hurrn of their own clan; the Hyquin Clan. Now it was my turn to marry and to serve my father's purpose.

'Have you found one who'll accept my hand?' Mayhee neighed with disapproval. I smiled and gave him a pat, whispering, 'don't you worry... you'll always be my first love.'

Father held his head high, "the problem is not finding you a match — all the Lord's of ArkiLa are fighting for my approval — the problem is which one to choose. You are my last daughter, and the last of our name, you must be wed to somebody who'll bore you children of strong blood."

I nodded, understanding the task he faced.

We trotted on for miles, listening to the slosh of the river until its bright blue and white ripples danced before us. I followed the river north and south, only losing it where it winded behind trees. It was calm in most parts and fierce in others; alive and ancient; full of leaping silvers and slippery stones. On approach, I noticed the orangish-white dirt where the river reseeded throughout the years. It was always fierce, but the last few winters were warm, and the snowfall scarce. Now the river was half the girth, and her power was waning.

"The Great Cleanse is on the horizon," father said, grimacing at the sight. "Soon the lands will wash clean and only the worthy will survive."

He yanked on the reins, kicking with his right foot, guiding his horse towards the banks. I followed close behind, listening to the rattle of Mayhee's chops; he was thirsty enough to drink for two mares if I'd allowed it. At the banks, a cool breeze moved off the river, giving us relief from the sun's heat. Father peered southward. I dismounted, grabbing a rag to wash myself clean. And Mayhee and KhokaK took to the drink, slurping each gulp.

"I'm going to cool off," I said, kneeling down, allowing the cloth to soak.

Father kept still, fixated southward. "Stay put. I'll go have a look."

I didn't bother at asking what drew his attention. Once father and KhoKak rounded the corner, I sighed with relief, then thanked the Horn Gods for my isolation. I took the rag and worked it against my leg, cleaning the blood that'd stuck from the heat. I then wiped my saddle to give it back its virgin shine and washed down Mayhee, who was still drowning his snout in the river.