Page 2 of Wind Rider

“Nah. I’m pretty sure I’m still as vain as I’ve always been,” he teased.

She slid the nightdress on and studied him. “You look stronger, too. I think you have more muscles. Herd Cinnabar must have kept you and Bard busy this winter. Where is your colt?” River glanced behind Clayton, expecting the three-year-old to be waiting in the lighteningshadows that clung stubbornly to the grassy area beneath the verdant post oaks and willows that lined Weanling Creek.

“My mother insisted on taking out the red ribbons from his mane and tail and is currently braiding them with what she callsthe proper color.”

“Herd Magenti’s purple, of course.”

“None other.”

“Um, did she not see that you’re wearing these?” River reached up and tugged on one of the scarlet ribbons in his hair. “Or this?” And tapped a finger on the blood-colored vest. This close to him she could see that it was intricately decorated with rearing horses in a deep sorrel thread made from a horse’s mane.

“She did. She told me to take them out and change into a decent vest and then she shooed me away when she began cooing to Bard about how much she missed him and how it was well past time his mane was braided properly.”

“Hey, want to seerealcooing? Watch how everyone treats Echo.” She laughed softly as she rolled her eyes.

But instead of laughing with her, Clayton’s expression sobered. “Well, sure, everyone coos over Echo. She’s Lead Mare, the wisest, strongest, soundest, most beautiful equine in Herd Magenti—many say in all the Five Great Herds.”

River’s shoulders slumped. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to sound bitter about Echo. She is magnificent and I love her as much as I love Mother.”

“Then who did you mean to sound bitter about?”

She answered his question with two of her own. “Clayton, would you say Echo is an extension of my mother? That Mother reflects Echo’s qualities?”

He didn’t hesitate with his answer. “Yes, I would. Everyone would—in our Herd and the others.”

“I would, too. My fear is that I don’t.”

“You don’t what?”

“Reflect her qualities.” She met Clayton’s gaze. “I don’t want to disappoint Mother or our Herd.”

“You won’t. You couldn’t. Unless you’ve changed drastically over the six months I was gone?” His raised brows challenged her.

“No. I’m still me.”

“Then you’re the most dedicated Rider I know. Hey, don’t let all the people and the talk get inside your head. You know weanlings can sense your nerves. Focus on being yourself and on being open to accepting any horse that comes to you today—that’s all you need to do.”

“Oh, that’sall?” River rolled her eyes.

“Well, almost all. If you’re Chosen you’ll have the weight of the Herd’s expectations on your shoulders, especially if a filly chooses you. And if you don’t get Chosen you’ll have the weight of the Herd’s expectations on your shoulders as they worry about who will be Rider to our next Lead Mare…” He grinned at her. “There. Did that help?”

“Absolutely not,” she said.

Then the two friends grinned at each other and Clayton opened his arms. “Come here, worrier. I missed you a lot.”

River stepped into his embrace, finding it strange and familiar at the same time. He hugged her tightly and she clung to him as well. Then, as was her right as a daughter of the Herd, River chose to break the embrace, stepping back to look up at Clayton.

“I hoped you missed me, too,” he said.

“I did!” She could see in his eyes that he wanted to say more and she held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t make their reunion awkward. And, thankfully, he didn’t. Instead he reached into his pocket and took out something concealed in his fisted hand.

“For you.”

She opened her hand and Clayton dropped the crystal into her palm. It fitted perfectly there—a long finger of glistening quartz. It was warm from his touch, but as it connected with her skin it heated even further, syncing with the Magenti Crystal Seer blood that ran strong through her veins. River could feel it—feel the sleeping power of the crystal—and though she wasn’t even a Wind Rider yet, the stone began to wakeand harmonize with her, calming the firefly-like thoughts that had nervously been flitting through her mind since she’d arrived at the Rendezvous Site two days before.

Instinctively, her breathing slowed and her shoulders relaxed, and for the first time in days they stopped burning with tension. River opened her mouth to thank Clayton for the amazing gift, and then her thanks turned into a shocked gasp as the soft light of dawn caught the crystal’s faceted surface, revealing what was within.

“Clayton! It’s a phantom!”