The Wild Hunt

The Wild Hunt begins

I didn’t think I was “open” today. Normally when I’m this exhausted I can’t hear, I can’t see, I can’t sense. But He had other plans, other ideas, and a different agenda. He didn’t care that I was at work, that I needed to concentrate as I was already fading after being up at 4 and at work shortly after 5.

After an awful morning He knew I needed him, and He came without me having to ask. Overwhelmed by the love and support he was giving me, the message soon became clear between silent emotional and hormonal sobs at my desk, and a quick dance in the rain.

The Wild Hunt waits for no one.

Between moments of work he answered questions I had been asking for weeks. Between breaths he transported to me to how we could’ve been, once upon a time – or at least answered the questions in a manner that I could understand. He’s amazing like that. The images, the words, the understanding.

Again and again, one after another, He gave me the first lesson. This is how it’s going to be, and I need to be prepared for it. I am beginning to keep my end of the bargain, and this is how he is keeping his.

A young girl no more than twelve stood in the doorway with a lit candle in her hands, watching the shadows in the darkness. Why does he have to go tonight? She wondered as scuffles, mutters and exasperation replied to her thoughts.

“Do you have to go tonight, father?”

The shadow she speaks to stops. A snort comes from the darkness followed by a shake of a mane. “Easy, Jet*,” a deep voice commands.

“Child, you know I do.” He calms Jet and moves around to his daughter, shamelessly sulking hoping it would keep him home. Bending down, he adjusts the woolen shawl over her shoulders. “Do you know what you can do for your father?” She looks up with sad eyes and shakes her head.

20150112_173614“Keep that flame burning in the window, and I will always know which direction you are in. I’ll see it wherever I ride. Okay?” She nods trying to hide the longing of wanting to keep him home, the worry she feels with each Hunt, the nights spent without him home.

Checking his saddle once more, he mounts.

“Ready?” Jet snorts as the man tries reigning in the steed’s restless legs so he can have one more glance at his daughter, still standing in the doorway with her candle burning brightly before her.

“Good. Tonight we ride!”


*Named in honour of a lifelong friend’s familiar, partner and best friend who recently rode into the Summerlands.

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