"There is something out there, Hector," she whispered, dismayed at the thought of leaving him and continuing on alone.

He shook his mane, raising his head to stare down at her. The change was subtle and difficult to see at first. His hooves were no longer wet from his sores; they were gleaming like silver. His eyes were not gummed over and half closed with fatigue; they were wide open like great empty wells.

"Hector," she pleaded, "there's something out—"

He took a step towards her—not a faltering limping step, but hard and sure. Then Cocot knew, there was not something out there. It was here.

"Hector...." She began inching backwards, away from him.

The pine-tree roots stairs were level with his shoulder, and he pricked his ears as though listening. The girl continued to retreat. Her mother's warning turned round and round in her mind, "Don't stop by the stairs, Cocot. Keep going, keep going!"

"Run, Coquelicot!"

She gasped and stifled a scream. It was a real voice; it was Soufflé. He sped from the forest towards her until he was between her and Hector.

"What are you doing?" he asked. "Drop those things and run!"

She nodded and tried to lift the bags off her shoulders. They were so heavy, she was trapped in them. With a few stumbling steps, she moved up the road, further from the horse.

The weakness and trembling had vanished from Hector's body. He began approaching, each step slow and deliberate, each thud of his hoof against the dirt a hollow warning.

"Go, child!" Soufflé yelled.

She twisted, tearing herself free from the bags and strings that entangled her. If the horse charged, she could never outrun him. She would never make it to the chalet.

Hector reared and neighed—an animal scream of hatred.

Cocot dropped the bags and the sack of flour split, spraying white powder across the black road. She turned to run. For several heartbeats there was nothing but her own feet brushing the ground, then Hector neighed in rage again. Cocot glanced over her shoulder but only dark shapes were visible in the gloom. What she could hear, though, was terrible enough to spur her on. Hector was coming, each step a hammer on rocks. He walked slowly at first, picking up speed only as the minutes ticked by.

Too soon, Cocot was gasping for breath and Hector was gaining on her. He wasn't even running hard, he knew he had time to catch her. She reached the last bend in the road and could see the outline of the gate. The gate—it was closed and latched! She stretched her legs as far as she could, pumping her arms. Sweat trickled in her eyes.

Hector was right behind her now. She didn't dare glance back. His pounding hooves shook the ground and deafened her ears.

The gate was too high to jump. Could she go head first and roll? A cry escaped her lips and she stumbled on, trying to run faster.

"Ho, horse! Here! Here!" called Soufflé.

She heard the horse snorting and stop, distracted by the fairy and giving her a few precious seconds. She reached for the latch, ripped it sideways and threw herself through the opening.

The keys for the door! She fumbled through her pockets.

Hector crashed into the gate and fence, destroying it. Bits of wood clattered on the stone path. Cocot leapt towards the door, dropping the keys from her slippery fingers. She scrambled for them in the grass. Hector lunged forward, and she rolled aside to escape, losing the keys. He neighed in frustration, stamping his hooves on a stone and splitting it in two.

At the sound of the crack, thousands of field fairies hiding in the garden and forest took flight. They hovered for the blink of an eye then streamed into a ribbon of living creatures. The ribbon flew for Hector, spinning around his head and twisting between his legs. He reared and shook his head, blinded by the fairies.

Cocot dove for her keys. She grabbed the ring, sorting through all thirteen of them and rushing to the door. Hector was biting and bucking, but could not push through the tiny fairies to reach her. Cocot found the house key. With her left palm on the door, she readied the key at the lock.

"Open, for I mean no harm here. By my voice, by my heart, know me and let me pass!" she cried. Turning the key, she heard the bolt scrape. She twisted the handle.

"Down!" Soufflé shouted.

She ducked as Hector's back hooves smashed into the door above her. The door flew open. She pitched head first for the floor while Hector turned to face her through the speeding fairies. He charged.

She caught the door and slammed it shut. The force of Hector's body hitting it shook the entire chalet. Dust burst through the cracks in the ceiling, filling the air. She jumped to push the bolt closed, bracing her shoulder against the door for his next attack. Hector kicked the door. Dust and tears blurred her vision and she pressed hard on the wooden door, hoping it would hold.

The next blow was not as strong. She heard the horse pacing on the door step and path, going further and further away. Sliding downwards, she drew her knees tight to her chest and let the tears flow unchecked down her cheeks.

*** Hector was the darkest shadow of them all... ***