On this night and on Samhain, the fey were at their most potent. He made his preparations, fully aware of that. He bought the horse that he had borrowed and the ostler was pleased to be rid of the beast, given that it had gone missing the night before. Padraig had the steed for a better price than he might have otherwise. He prepared it with care, ensuring that there was no iron in its harness, less the fey realize it was not one of theirs. It was a fine stallion, a high-stepping black horse with a proud gait. Its mane was long and dark, its eyes lit with a fire that made him wonder whether it knew more of the fey than he. It was said that the Faeries bred the best horses, and there was majesty in this one’s lineage. It had not even shied at the sid, but waited calmly for him at the hawthorne tree. He declared his intent to sail with the morning tide, and had his ship provisioned for the journey. His sister extended her hospitality again, but Padraig knew they were too different for him to remain in their home.
