Long Hidden: Speculative Fiction From The Margins Of History - Plot & Excerpts
We sat on the top rail of a fence overlooking the king’s pasture, where the new colts were trying out their legs. Andrzej, Istvan, and I were dead veterans of the kuruc revolt (or was it the kuruc crusades?), buried a week or so earlier, risen up only recently. “Do you think the brown will live the season?” I asked. “No,” Istvan spat and left an earthy-red stain on the grass. “Its knees – no – too weak. It has the fever.” In a vague gesture, Andrzej held his big hand out toward it and paused, as if searching for the perfect word. How it makes one’s heart tender, to see such fragile things. “Gar,” he said finally. We watched the filly in silence as it struggled to its knees. One leg collapsed under it and it went to the ground, panting. It made me sad, to watch it struggle so. I wanted the horse to live. I felt like I had a stake in it. She was a soft thing and I was half-tempted to walk out and bring her to her feet. But we’d learned we had an effect on animals.
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