Flight: Book Two in the Defining Gravity Series Read online

  I leaned my good elbow on the stall door and looked inside dolefully. There was no way around it; Folly looked awful. Her coat was damp with sweat, she had deep hollows over her eyes and her untrimmed mane stood up roughly in all directions. She kept shifting off her front leg to take the weight off it, clearly uncomfortable.

  Aunt Lillian and Allan unloaded the trailer, hauling feed, blankets, and medication into the feed room while I leaned over Folly’s stall door, feeling miserable.

  “You’ll be okay, girl,” I whispered to her. “Look at your nice, big stall; it’s like a palace compared to your stall at home. This is a great place to recover.”

  Folly raised her head slowly and flattened her ears, shaking her head wearily at me in warning.

  “Astrid, where’s your tack?” my aunt called. “Did they forget to pack it?”

  “Uh, I don’t have any,” I said, turning in her direction. “All her stuff belonged to Cole. I have her halter and Liza sent her blankets along, so I guess I own those.”

  “Oh?” Aunt Lillian opened her mouth like she wanted to say more, but Allan interrupted.

  “All right, we’re all unloaded, kid. I have three horses to pick up in Prince George, so I have to go. It was nice meeting you.”

  “Thanks, for taking care of Folly, Allan,” I said. “Have a good trip back.”

  “See you in a few weeks for the foals,” my aunt said, giving him a wave.

  Aunt Lillian and I stood in silence while Allan rumbled the big truck back to life and pulled carefully out of the driveway. I looked at the ground, not sure what to do with myself. Aunt Lillian was practically a stranger and I had no idea what to say to her.

  “Well, show me what Folly gets for food. We’ll get her tucked away and then I’ll take you up to the house and get you settled.”

  “I could give her her medication,” I said suddenly, “she has stuff to help with the pain. She’s not due for a few hours, but maybe she can have it a bit early?”

  “Probably a good idea,” my aunt agreed, “the trip was hard on her.”

  I followed Aunt Lillian to a big room that was a combination of feed and storage. Dusty halters and blankets hung from metal racks on one wall, and opposite was a low counter and sink with a pile of buckets stacked beside it. Every other bit of exposed floor was piled with Rubbermaid storage tubs, each labelled with a strip of masking tape.

  Folly’s supplements had been stacked haphazardly on the counter next to the sink; her bag of pellets on the floor beside it.

  “This is pretty high-test food, Astrid,” my aunt said, frowning at the ingredients on the feed bag. “You might want to have her on something less exciting while she’s on stall rest. She doesn’t need all this protein and sugar right now; you can feed her some of the maintenance food the horses here get.”

  “Oh,” I said, “but she’s a dressage horse, can she eat what western horses eat?”

  Aunt Lillian covered her mouth, making a choking, sputtering sound that most definitely was a supreme effort not to burst into laughter.

  I looked down at the counter, my lips curled politely into a smile I didn’t feel. Ha ha, stupid Astrid, asking the wrong questions again, I thought wearily. It had been a long, exhausting day; the pinnacle of a long, exhausting month, and I was bone tired. So what if I knew nothing about horse food. How was I supposed to learn anything if I didn’t ask questions?

  “Oh, Astrid,” my aunt said, recovering herself a little and wiping a tear from the corner of one eye. “Yes, dear, that will be fine. Horses are horses.”

  “Fine,” I said, focusing on lining up the little tubs of Folly’s supplements neatly next to the sink and then unpacking the Ziploc bag of her medication. She was on antibiotics, anti-inflammatories, and an additional pain control and she needed everything twice a day. There wasn’t any beet pulp to soak so I dissolved her medication in water like the vet tech at the hospital had showed me and stirred it up with the pellets and chunks of carrot. I hoped she would eat it.

  We walked back to the stall and my aunt pointed inside. “There you go, feed tub’s up there in the corner,” she said, waving at the rubber bowl directly in striking distance of Folly’s front feet.

  She clearly expected I was capable of feeding my own horse. Well, I was not going to be the one to let her know how incapable I was. She’d find out on her own soon enough.

  “Sure.” I gulped, somehow keeping the quaver out of my voice.

  “Hey, Folly.” I gingerly slid open the stall door, prickles of nervous sweat already running down my back the closer I got to the sullen looking mare. “It’s just me with your dinner. You like your dinner, don’t you? Nice girl.”

  Folly didn’t bother to look up from rooting through the pile of coarse hay; searching for softer, greener bits to eat. But she flattened her ears and swished her tail in warning. Taking a deep breath, I inched closer to the rubber feed tub and then, in one swift move, dumped the bucket contents inside and sprang for the door. The second the latch clicked shut, Folly barged over to the food with surprising agility for someone who was supposed to be injured and greedily ate everything, hunching over her feed tub like a panther mauling its prey. She glared up at us, wet food dripping from her mouth, shifting from foot to foot like she was about to charge. Even from this side of the door she looked terrifying.

  “Whoa,” my aunt said, raising her eyebrows, “is she always so…aggressive?”

  I shrugged, thinking this had actually been low-key for Folly. “Sometimes,” I said evasively, “she probably just needs to settle in.”

  There was a low wheezing noise next to my elbow and I peeked into the stall beside Folly’s to see a small, grey face peering up at me. “Oh, he’s adorable!” I said, looking in at the fat, fuzzy donkey. “What’s his name?”

  “Donkey,” my aunt said with a laugh. “We aren’t a very imaginative bunch around here. He usually stays out to guard the foals, but he was due for a hoof trim anyway, so I brought him in to keep Folly company.”

  “Well,” she went on, brushing her hands together in a business-like way, “now I suppose it’s time to get you settled. We’ll come back and check on Folly after dinner.”

  Allan had stacked my small pile of belongings just outside the barn door. All my worldly possessions were squished into a backpack, a large hard-sided black suitcase, my laptop bag and, most importantly, a large carrying case that held both my old practice bow and my competition bow.

  The entire past summer I had technically been banned from archery and, now that I had my bow back, I didn’t plan to let it out of my sight again. I lifted the bow case with difficulty and my aunt scooped up the rest and carried them to an ancient, battered blue farm truck that was parked nearby with the passenger-side door already ajar.

  “Sorry about all the dog hair, Jake likes to sleep in here sometimes. He thinks it’s his truck. Don’t mind that door, Astrid, the latch doesn’t work.”

  Aunt Lillian tossed my stuff into the backseat on top of about an inch of grey, wiry dog hair and a pile of smelly saddle pads. With a herculean amount of effort, I hoisted the oversized bow case on top, trying not to wrinkle my nose at the overpowering smell of dog.

  I crawled into the front passenger seat and used my good hand to heave the door shut only to have it bounce immediately back open again. Aunt Lillian got in on her side and then leaned right across me, her elbow digging painfully into my leg, to attach a complicated bit of wire between my door handle and the seat. She gave it a good twist and then sat back, satisfied. “There, good as new. That should keep you from falling out.”

  “But it’s still open,” I said, looking nervously at the inch of daylight between the door and the truck.

  “Bah, the wire will hold it. It’s been that way for years.”

  The door rattled ominously when she started the truck and I clutched the seat, double checking my seatbelt to make sure it was clicked tight.

  “I do keep meaning to fix it,” Aunt Lillian said apologetical
ly, “but we’re so busy here in the summer that some things get put off until the slow season. Unfortunately, that season never seems to arrive.”

  We passed a sign that read “Private Property—No Entry” and bumped along a dirt track with pot holes so deep my teeth rattled in my head whenever the tires lurched into one. The truck had no shocks to speak of and I clung to my seat with my one good arm to keep from bouncing around. The door clanged loudly with every bump, and I squeezed my eyes tight, sure I was about to die at any second.

  “Sorry, Astrid, I probably should have taken the main driveway. This is the short cut.”

  “It’s okay,” I squeaked, bouncing so high my head came inches from hitting the ceiling.

  Pain meds, I thought weakly, I will have to double up on those as soon as I get to the house. If I even survive that long.

  “Well, here we are. Oh look, there’s Jake on the porch waiting to meet you. Don’t mind him; he looks tough, but he’s a big teddy bear.”

  I opened my eyes carefully, gaping as I took in both the oversized log house and the most gigantic dog I’d ever seen in my life. I couldn’t decide which was more intimidating.

  The house was a sprawling honey-coloured, two-story log structure matching the broodmare barn in style. A wide porch wrapped around the front and sides, scattered with wooden tables and chairs, and even a large porch-swing. Massive wooden beams ran upward and were topped with carved eagle heads that stared out across the parched, brown lawn like baleful sentries.

  Sauntering down the porch steps was a shaggy, grey dog the size of a small pony, wiry hair falling over his eyes. He woofed low under his breath and wagged his tail stiffly before coming to stand at the passenger door. He was so tall he didn’t even have to look up; he just rested his chin against the glass and watched me intently, his beady black eyes peering out from under a grey fringe of fur, teeth glinting wickedly.

  “Go away, Jake,” my aunt commanded, hopping out of the truck and coming around my side to push him out of the way. She wrenched open the back door and hauled out my suitcase and backpack, carrying one in each hand as if they weighed nothing and slinging my laptop bag over her shoulder. “Not everyone wants to see you, you big galoot. Get going.”

  He trotted ahead, and she strode after him, not even looking back to see if I was okay. I stared after her with my heart sinking. She’d forgotten to undo the wire that held my door shut.

  “Seriously?” I said out loud, staring down at the complicated twist of metal trapping me inside. “Why does everything have to be so difficult?” After poking myself twice on the sharp ends and a few minutes of awkward fumbling, I was finally able to work myself free.

  I sighed and slid out of the truck carefully, rescuing my bow case from the backseat where it had partially slid to the floor. Ack, I thought, brushing at pieces of wiry dog hair sticking to the case, what sort of place is this?

  I walked slowly up the porch stairs, feeling irritable and out of place. My whole body throbbed, and I needed to take my pain medication badly.

  I passed a large porch swing and a group of carved wooden chairs and tables arranged at one end. A round, fur-covered dog bed sat right next to the front door and on it sat the massive dog, watching me intently.

  “Um, hello, uh, Jake,” I said, edging past him. “Nice doggy, don’t eat me. I’m family.” His pink tongue lolled out and he slowly lay down, still keeping an eye on me.

  “Aunt Lillian?” I called, pulling open the outer screen door and then shouldering past the heavy wooden door behind it. “Hello?”

  I stood in the front foyer looking up in amazement at the vaulted, beamed ceiling overhead. The room was wide open; a sunken living area to my right and, beyond it, a huge gleaming kitchen with a big wooden table that looked like it could seat dozens of people. Directly to my left was a long hallway lined with thick wooden doors on one side; they were all closed.

  Straight ahead was a wide, wooden staircase that led to the second level.

  “Hello?” I called out uncertainly, “Aunt Lillian?”

  “Up here, Astrid,” my aunt called from somewhere upstairs.

  I pulled my boots off with difficulty and dropped them at the front door before moving cautiously up the stair case, socks slipping on the overly-polished wooden steps.

  I paused at the top, looking around in awe. Directly in front of me was a large nook with couches and end tables and heavily-laden bookshelves set between two huge windows. There was even a fireplace in the corner.

  “Wow,” I said out loud. I could easily picture myself spending the whole winter curled up here with a good book. It was a wonderful spot.

  “There you are, Astrid.” Aunt Lillian appeared beside me. “I see you’ve found the reading nook. It’s a little pretentious, but the guests always seem to like to congregate here. Come on, I’ll show you your room.”

  I followed her down the hall, past three or four closed doors until we came to one that was open.

  “This will be your room. I hope you like it. I didn’t have time to do much decorating, but I suppose you’d like to personalize it yourself anyway.”

  “Oh,” I said, looking around in approval. “It’s nice, thanks.”

  It wasn’t a huge room, but the polished log walls and the picture window made it beautifully cozy. There was a big wooden bed with a small table beside it, a desk and a closet for all my stuff. The bed was covered in a red plaid duvet that matched the curtains. On one wall was an open door that led to a small bathroom. It was everything I needed.

  “Feel free to put up posters or decorate however you like. As long as you don’t nail holes in the wall to hang up your bras like our last working student then you’re free to do what you please.”

  “Uh, no problem.” I sat down on the bed and smoothed the wrinkle out of the heavy cover, the texture rough against my hand. This room was so different from my cold, sterile room back home. This one felt warm and inviting, like somewhere you could just curl up in and... I yawned, covering my mouth quickly so my aunt wouldn’t think I was being rude.

  “Well, you’ve had a long trip, so you must be exhausted. Would you like to rest before dinner?”

  “Yes, please,” I said, stifling another yawn. “If that’s okay.”

  “Of course. I’ll call you for dinner at seven. I invited our farm manager, Bryce, and his girls over to meet you, and I know they’re looking forward to it. I hope you and Casey become friends. She’s about your age, I think, but she’s going through a rough patch right now. It would be nice for her to have a friend.” She hesitated as if she was going to say more and then turned away instead. She was gone before I could ask her anything else.

  I rummaged through my bags until I found my bottle of pain meds. I downed two of them without even getting a glass of water; I needed them to start working quickly in the worst way.

  I was too exhausted to shower, but I changed out of my grungy travelling clothes and flopped down on top of the bed with a sigh, feeling the tension drain out of my body. There was just one thing I needed to do first, before I did any napping. I hauled the bow case from the floor to the bed and flipped open the lid. I’d deconstructed the limbs of both bows for travel, but, even with one hand, it didn’t take me long to put my old practice bow back together again. The competition bow I’d leave safely tucked away for now.

  I looked around the room and found a good spot over the door where someone had stuck nails in just the right places. Balancing precariously on top of the desk chair I’d pulled across the room, I was just able to carefully prop my bow across the two nails. I stepped down and surveyed it with satisfaction. Now the place felt more like home.

  Chapter Two

  “Astrid, dinner’s almost on the table. You come on down when you’re ready.”

  “Okay,” I groaned and rolled over, sleep tugging heavily at my limbs. I could easily sleep for a thousand more years. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “Take your time,” my aunt said, her voice movi
ng away from the door, “but supper will be on the table in five minutes.”

  I heaved a sigh and sat up, swinging my legs slowly over the side of the bed and waiting for the room to stop spinning. When I was reasonably sure I wouldn’t fall over, I stumbled to the bathroom to wash up and convince my wild curls, which were already out of control, to stay in a ponytail. I hadn’t been able to manage hair elastics one handed yet, so Marion had found these big clips that I could use to clumsily scoop the hair up and snap it into some sort of order. Usually it left me with a few pieces straggling outside of the clip, but it was better than nothing.

  I studiously avoided looking at my face in the mirror. I knew how awful the bandages made me look by the way people stared at me. On the ferry ride from the Island that morning I’d been unable to avoid the questioning looks, some sympathetic and some just openly curious, as Allan and I ate our breakfast in the cafeteria. At least I didn’t have to start school until I looked more human.

  I guess I should get this over with. I straightened my shoulders and moved reluctantly from my room to the hallway. As soon as I opened the door, I sniffed appreciatively, hit with the delicious smell of cooking food.

  Voices floated up from the kitchen and I peered over the carved wooden railing to the open room below, hoping to catch sight of them before they saw me. No luck, there was only Jake, lying on his gold-coloured cushion by the front door, staring at me balefully.

  “Nice dog,” I said encouragingly, walking slowly down the stairs toward him. “You don’t need to bite me.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about Jake,” my aunt said, appearing at the bottom of the landing. “Honestly, he’s a big softy. Come on and meet him properly. Here, give him a cookie and he’ll never leave your side.” She came to meet me and shoved a bone shaped biscuit into my hand, giving me a slight push toward him.

  The big dog rose to his feet, eyes glued on the cookie in my hand and his tail making a few tentative sweeps through the air. I held it out in front of his nose and he curled his lips back to take it ever so gently from my fingers with his big, white teeth.