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Max.

Flynn looked confused and slowly scanned his surroundings. “What am I doing here?”

“We were hoping you could tell us that,” said Rafe.

“Come on, what’ve you done with them?” asked Max, doing his best to hold it together.

“With what?” asked Flynn.

“Don’t play games with me,” said Max.

“We just want to know where the horses are,” said Rafe.

“I don’t know,” said Flynn. “I’ve no idea where the horses are.”

“Then would you mind telling us what you’re doing up here in this state?” said Rafe. “Have you been in a fight?”

“No,” said Flynn, confused. “I haven’t been fighting with anyone.”

“Then what were you doing last night,” asked Max. Flynn frowned. “I don’t know. I don’t recall.”

Flynn tried to stand up but fell straight back down again.

“I’ll fetch Cordelia,” said Rafe.

Meanwhile at the tavern, Breck was woken by the sound glass smashing downstairs. He groaned and rolled over, thinking it was Flynn. Then he heard it again, more glass breaking. Now more alert, he opened his eyes and listened carefully. He was certain he could hear voices, and more than one set of footsteps on the wooden floor below. Breck threw the bed covers back and leapt out of bed, pulling on his trousers and boots as fast as he could. His loud footsteps on the stairs frightened off the children who’d been taking their chances with an unattended bar. Breck locked the front doors and called Flynn’s name but there was no answer. He cleared up the broken bottles, washed and dressed and went into the yard.

Misty did not seem her usual relaxed self; her head was elevated as though she was trying to focus on something in the distance and her ears were flicking back and forth.

“Hey, what’s spooked you?” asked Breck, gently holding Misty’s face to try and refocus her. “I need your help, I can’t carry the turf back on my own.”

Misty snorted and swished her tail as Breck attached the cart. They began the journey to the peat bog but they hadn’t even reached the sea wall when Breck realised something was amiss. A crowd had gathered along the promenade and beach and a feeling of unease filled the air as a heavy cloud rested over this seaside community. Misty whinnied as they drew nearer and came to a halt.

“Come on girl,” said Breck, but Misty would not take another step forward.

Breck jumped down to the ground and stroked Misty’s soft nose. She splayed her front legs to the side and leaned back.

“Steady girl,” said Breck, concerned.

Just then the gardai walked down the slip way onto the sand, followed by a reporter. It was then that Breck knew something serious had happened. Leaving Misty by the side of the road, he made his way onto the beach, squeezing his way through the crowd.

Breck spotted Jerry and asked, ‘What’s going on?”

“It’s the horses,” said Jerry. “Such a terrible loss.”

Breck edged closer to the front of the crowd and there he saw them, twelve white horses scattered across the beach, their bodies partially buried in the sand. The only movement was their flowing manes being gently caressed by the wind.

“What a ghastly sight,” said a man visiting from Limerick. “We came for the fresh sea air, not this.”

“Spare a thought for the horses,” said Jerry.

“It’s really quite mystifying,” said a woman, dressed in her Sunday best.

Breck recognised those horses immediately. He turned, pushing his way through the crowd and ran back up to the road. Misty snorted and lowered her head as Breck approached. He rubbed her face and pressed his forehead against hers.

“I’m sorry,” he said. The pair of them stood by the roadside, quietly acknowledging the death of the horses. When a few moments had passed, Breck whispered to Misty, “Take me to Cordelia.”

Breck unhitched the cart from Misty at the peat bog and galloped over the cliff top. He could see a group of people gathered outside the lighthouse but as they approached the site where the horses had gone over the edge, Misty came to a sudden halt, almost throwing Breck from her back. He jumped down and Misty danced in circles before cantering back to the bog.

Cordelia, Lana and the twins were tending to Flynn while Rafe and Max stood rigidly with their arms folded, glaring at Breck.

“What’s he doing here?” asked Rafe.

“Two visitors in one day Cordelia, aren’t you the popular one,” said Max.

The girls looked up, surprised to see Breck hurrying towards them.

“Come to fetch this one, have you?” asked Max.

“I didn’t know he was here,” said Breck.

“Haven’t you been worried about him?” asked Cordelia.

“Not really,” said Breck, puzzled by Cordelia’s change in appearance. “He was drunk all last night, looks like he still is.”

“Well now you’re here, you can take him home,” said Max.

Breck’s melancholy eyes met Cordelia’s.

“What is it?” asked Cordelia.

Breck couldn’t tell if they already knew.

“Spit it out,” said Rafe.

“The horses.”

“What about the horses?” asked Max. “D’you know where they are?”

Breck gulped. “It’s not good news. They’ve washed up on the beach.”

Max lunged towards Flynn with his fist.

“Stop it!” screeched Cordelia.

Rafe pulled Max away, holding him by the elbows.

“What did you do to them?” shouted Max.

“I didn’t do anything,” said Flynn, “I wouldn’t.”

“Then explain what you’re doing up here, covered in bruises while the horses are lying dead down there,” said Rafe, pointing towards the bay.

Cordelia edged away from Flynn, confused by what she was hearing. “How could you?” she asked. “Is this my punishment because you disapprove of my feelings for Breck?”

“It wasn’t him,” said Masika, who’d been quietly tapping into Flynn’s mind. “It was Pooka.”

Nobody quite knew what to say.

“This is your fault,” said Max, pointing at Cordelia. “We were fine until you turned up.”

“That’s no way to speak to a woman,” said Breck.

“Is that right?” asked Max. “She’s been nothing but trouble since she arrived.”

“I’m sorry,” said Cordelia.

“You’re not the one who needs to apologise,” said Breck.

Max caught Breck off guard and punched him in the mouth, knocking him backwards to the ground. Breck could

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