Heart pounding in her ears, Cocot raised her hands as her last defense. He could crush her with one hoof. "Hector, please. Please."

He paused, breathing heavily.

"Please," she begged. "Come back to me, I know you are still in there." She stretched her fingers, almost touching the unruly spot between his eyes. Tears streamed into her mouth and off her chin.

He snorted, lowering his head to charge. She braced herself to dodge.

Then he nickered softly and the moonlight reflected in his eyes. He sagged and melted back into the tired, scarred horse that Cocot loved. She let out a laugh that was part sob.

He stepped to her, feeble and shaking to blow on her fingers with his nose. When she reached to pet him, he collapsed.

"Hector!" It had been too much for the old horse. He was tired and he needed to rest. She could still give him the tincture to help him heal.

"You'll be all right, I'll take care of you," she said. It would make him sleep, but she could cover him with branches until morning to hide him. In the dark, she found his mouth and let a few drops fall in it. "You'll see, you'll be all right in the morning."

He lifted his head and forelegs weakly to stand. She pushed him back down and rubbed his neck.

"Lay still and rest, Hector, you'll be—" Her hand touched something wet. There was something wet—sticky and thick—covering the base of his neck.

"No, oh no, please no. you can't leave me!" She pressed both hands to his chest, and Hector's life welled up and poured out between her fingers. The fairies' swords had done their work.

Cocot whimpered and stroked the horse's neck and forehead. The fairy king had warned her; the evil in the bottle would destroy what she loved most. Is this what he meant? The horse had come to save her and it was her fault if the evil had infected him.

He had changed himself back for her.

"Please don't leave me alone," she whispered. "And I won't leave you, I promise. I'll stay and you will get better."

The witch or Wenslar would surely send the horrible guards to find them, but Cocot would stay.

She cradled Hector's head, heavy as a rock, crooning a wordless lullaby. He pawed a couple times at the air, shuddered and then closed his eyes.

The tincture was making him sleep, that was all. There is more magic in all the flowers of the field.... She rocked back and forth, hoping desperately that the tincture could heal more than just evil magic.

The blood from his cuts slowed and stopped.

"Hector," she breathed, "you can't me leave me here alone. Please."

She watched as his tail swished once and a few running spasms flicked over his ribs and flank. She watched as his breathing grew shallow and finally stopped. She watched, hoping for the magic to heal him, as he grew perfectly still.

Once again, she was sitting, watching helplessly as someone she loved died. The picture of her mother lying in bed came crowding over the sight of Hector until the two were meshed together.

Cocot lost those she loved—just as the passage keeper had threatened.

Rage sparked deep in Cocot. She would end this. Not because the king had told her to, but because the witch had ordered Hector's death. Somehow, she would make the witch pay.

She clenched her fists over Hector's body, wondering where her tears were. Anger had finally burned them away. Cocot would destroy the one thing the witch wanted.

She had to go, leaving Hector on the forest floor. Soufflé and Daniel were still alive, and they were in danger. Soufflé was a survivor in a harsh world. He was safe, he had to be.

So she would go to the farm to warn Daniel and tell him to hide, and then she could take raspberry brambles from the garden.

And when she left the farm, she would go to Lessoc. She wasn't sure how, but she would end this. Hector had died to get her out of the hill. For all she knew, the king had also been killed. She was alone.

Branches snapped on the hillside. A hissing laugh followed. The fairy guards were coming.

She lifted Hector's head to go, but not before placing a kiss next to his eye. Her night vision was sharper than before, her sense of smell and hearing keener and her feet made no more noise than a mouse as she darted up the hill. If she was a fairy, then so be it. She would use her every power to fight back. She knew exactly what evil creatures were in the shadows and she knew that staying on the path would not save her.

She reached the road that cut the forest in half, her chalet would be to the right and the drive to Daniel's farm was to the left. She was about to move onto the road when she heard her mother's voice so clearly, she thought she was standing next to her.

"Some fairy creatures are friendly and will gladly lend you a hand if you ask."

Cocot checked left and right, ready to dash across the road, but a ghostly figure, with white hands and a deathly pale face beckoned her to come closer.

Cocot peered through the night. This creature was dripping with moss and had a face like the ashen masked thing that had caught her hands when she ran from the hill the first time. It made no sound, simply urged the girl to come. As she got closer, the creature pointed at the road.

Two fairies armed with bows crept from the forest and onto the road. They would have seen her if she had run across the road a moment before. The pale creature motioned for her to be silent and then it disappeared into the trunk of an old oak.

They passed, Cocot silent and hidden by the tree trunk. When she finally left, the creature crept with her, across the road. It brushed her cheek and in the fluid movement of wind blowing a leaf from the branch, it swept its arm towards the top of the hill where the farm lay.

A trail she never would have noticed wended up the hill towards the farm. She reached the stream, and washed her hands clean of Hector's blood.

"Washed away, but not forgotten," she promised his spirit.

Splashing across the water, she noticed for the first time that her feet were bare. She pushed on to the edge of one of M. Ruffieux's fields. From there, she would have to crawl through the barley or be visible for half a mile in every direction.

Two shadows emerged from the trees at the shortcut towards Cocot's chalet. They made their way directly down to the farm. There was something odd about the way they walked—as though they were injured or reluctant.

Cocot crawled forward. The stalks of barley around her shook and rustled noisily. Their life quivered through the ground and up into her feet. She closed her eyes, sensing the waving stalks from tips to roots. She spread her fingers through the nearest ones. "Let me pass unheard."

The field nodded, acquiescing, in the breeze.

She pushed forward, silent as the wind itself.

At the end of the field she could see the fairies with their swords in hand pacing around the house. They ran their hands over the windows and door on the ground floor. Cocot could hear them speaking to each other in hisses and snarls.

They weren't trying to go inside. Was the door locked? Did some fairy law prevent them from breaking in? They could easily pry open the shutters and knock out a glass pane.

A noise might draw them off. How could she create a distraction without getting caught? She laid her hands on the dirt to steady herself as she watched. "A runner through the field, heading for the woods."

A chill rippled through her.

The wind picked up, bringing cold air down from the mountain tops. A ripple of breaking barley stalks streamed in the field, exactly like someone running away.

The fairies dashed around the front of the house, leaving the way clear.

Cocot darted to the door, not questioning how long they would search the field. One of the upper windows must be Daniel's, but she couldn't climb to it. She would have to try the ground windows to see if one was open behind the closed shutters.

As she reached the gravel path to the front door, she heard the handle turning. She leapt to the doorstep as the door opened.

Daniel peered out from the dark, hair tussled and eyebrows pinched.

"Cocot?" he asked, astonished. "I heard voices, someone calling me."

"Quick, they're coming," she said. She pushed him aside to close the door as quietly as possible.

"Not in here, they're not," he replied, picking up a long bread knife. He tried to move around her, but Cocot blocked him.

"No, we have to hide. In there, quick," she whispered. There was a very narrow broom closet in the corner and she pulled him towards it. It wasn't really big enough for two.

Footsteps scuffed in the gravel and harsh voices scraped like nails on glass.

Daniel tensed. "What's out there?" he asked softly.

The door knob shook. When Daniel lifted the knife, Cocot pressed one hand on his chest and the other over his mouth and pushed him backwards inside the closet.

The front door began to swing open, squeaking faintly.

Cocot had no time. She squeezed in the confined space with Daniel and tried to hold shut the cabinet door as best she could, other hand still on his mouth so he wouldn't speak. The closet was so small there was hardly any air and no room to move, even to breathe.

Cocot's heart pounded in her ears and she could feel Daniel's racing in his chest.

The two fairies entered the farm house hesitantly. Their feet dragged over the threshold and one growled something at the other. Cocot couldn't make out what they said. They crossed the room, bumping into the table, knocking over a chair and went into the two connecting side rooms. Porcelain or glass fell, shattering on the floor.

"Who's there?" shouted Farmer Ruffieux from upstairs. He sounded shaken and scared. "Daniel? Boy, is that you?"

The old farmer was limping down the steep stairwell, grumbling under his breath. A line of candlelight appeared in the closet.

The two fairies whispered urgently, and metal blades rasped briefly together. They were fighting about something. The light grew as Farmer Ruffieux arrived downstairs.

*** Kind creatures will help you, if you ask. ***