Sally Mordigan sat up in the predawn darkness, stirred by the urgent thundering of hooves. For a moment, she just sat in bed, as still as a boulder, listening to be sure her ears hadn't deceived her. Strange enough, she remembered dreaming of a galloping horse. Maybe she was only half-awake, the otherworldly rumble leaching from the dream into reality. Pinching her leg, Sally winced and concluded that she was fully awake and therefore the sound had been real.

As she climbed down from her top bunk, Sally wondered why no one else in the house had gotten up to search for the cause of such a ruckus. Surely someone had to have heard it. Her sister Gracie however, was still sleeping soundly on the lower bed. Sally thought about waking her but decided she would investigate on her own.

Slipping past her sister and out of the bedroom, she descended the stairs with caution. Sally believed that if her father truly had heard the noise, he would already be outside searching the road. But she peeked into her parents' room and found them too asleep.

The young girl determined that the sound was produced by a lone horse, but the rumble of its hooves became so intense that not only did Sally hear it, she felt it. She closed her eyes and sensed the tremors that travelled outward from the charging steed along the dirt road and up into the frame of the house, through the cold floor and finally penetrating her chilled feet. She even knew from what direction it was coming.

At the foot of the stairs, Sally hesitated so her eyes could adjust to the dark, but also to make sure that nothing lurked among the murky forms before her. As her vision grew sharper, she recognized the familiar shape of the dinner table and chairs, the fireplace and a pile of baskets in the far corner. She would never concede to being frightened but the bizarreness of this morning allowed her mind to wander, conjuring images of evil creatures sneaking about and waiting for unsuspecting children.

Suddenly the sound of hooves stopped; the horse had come to an abrupt halt. Sally crept through the gloom and when she reached the kitchen window, she witnessed an event as mysterious as any she had ever seen.

On the road directly in front of her home a rider spoke in an agitated tone to a man on foot. Sally couldn't be certain, peering through the blanket of fog enshrouding the scene, but she believed the man on foot was the mayor, Mr. Froswirth. They were just far enough away that she was unable to decipher any of their conversation. Observing this extraordinary meeting sent a tingle of exhilaration through her, but Sally sought more; she needed to know what was being said.

Stepping into her moccasins, she opened the rear door to her family's modest cabin and was met by a cool breeze that raced through her nightdress, chilling her legs. She eased the door closed behind her to prevent any squeaking. Plumes of her warm breath rose from her mouth as she crept down three wooden steps and into the yard. Although the cloud of mystery hung as thick as the fog about her, Sally found comfort in the smears of pale light that had emerged in the east. Soon the sun would rise and chase away the night.

Turning the corner of the cabin, away from dawn's approach and back to the clinging shadows, Sally saw that the two men were still engaged in conversation. But as she crawled toward the front yard, closer to the road, she discovered that two more had joined them. Guards. One of them she noticed as John, a friend of her father's.

The wind rushed again, sending mist swirling along the road and the group appeared more like an assembly of spirits than of men. Snippets of sound came to Sally, though none clear enough to understand. Then voices became raised, especially from the mounted rider, who made angry gestures.

Inching her way along the damp ground, Sally reached a holly bush and crouched behind it. She inspected the rider. He was tall and lean, the youngest of those gathered, probably not much older than her sister Gracie, who was fifteen. The horse was gray, with patches of white. Bursts of thick vapor poured from its nostrils. They must have ridden far. The rider pointed northward, toward Sally and she instinctively ducked her head although she doubted they could spot her behind the bush. After a moment she rose from the crouch and noticed that the rider and his steed were clad in purple, colors indicative to the northern city of Belmeade. That was a three day's journey, at the least.

More guards appeared out of the gloom and quickly surrounded the young boy and his steed. The mayor motioned for them to draw their swords and Sally heard the ring of the blades against their sheaths. The Mayor hollered and gestured for the rider to dismount. He looked confused at their command and became furious, again pointing northward.

Sally could feel their anxiety, especially the horse. She imagined his muscles twitching in anticipation of escape, waiting only for the rider's cue – a quick jab to his underside – to bound away.

On her belly, Sally crawled closer to the fence that bordered her yard. She could hear the horse's breathing.

As the guards enclosed the circle around the beast, it stepped backward and whinnied. Sally heard the rider say, "Easy, Patch." He patted the horse. "Easy now."

Sally's palms began to sweat, despite the cool air. What appeared to be a plea for help from the rider must've been something else. She sensed no indication that the rider was a thief or evil in any way, yet it seemed that he was being treated as such. Sally wished she could somehow tell the horse to rush through the guards and race toward the woods.

Suddenly one of the guards assumed a striking stance, his sword poised over his head. The rider gripped the hilt of his own weapon. There was a horrific moment of silence and just when Sally thought she might witness something terrible, the rider released the reigns and handed them to one of the guards. He reluctantly dismounted and along with his horse was taken away, toward the southern end of town, where the jail was located.

Sally had been holding her breath and finally exhaled. She rose to a stand and watched the guards and the young horseman and Patch until they were swallowed by the fog. She began to move toward the gate, closer to the road when someone grabbed her from behind. She let out a gasp and turned to find her father.

"Father! You frightened me!"

"What are you doing out here young lady? Snooping?"

"Father, did you see what just happened?"

Her father said nothing. He didn't need to. The stern expression on his face caused Sally to lower her head; she knew she was in trouble. He placed his broad finger under her chin and gently raised her head and Sally looked up at him.

"Your curiosity causes you to make rash decisions, Sally."

She nodded.

"You are never to leave our home during dark hours, especially when something like this occurs. You're to stay inside where it is safe and wake me. Understand?"

"Yes. Sorry, Father."

"Go inside."

Sally bowed her head and walked past her Father. At the corner of the cabin she looked back. Mr. Mordigan stood with his fists resting on his hips, staring toward the road. The guards and the rider were gone, the fog erasing any existence of the confrontation.

She stood for a moment longer, the eeriness of the event still resonant in the air. Garrin Mordigan turned to his daughter and forced a smile, though it could not conceal his troubled mind. Sally grabbed her Father's hand and the two stepped back into the comfort of their cabin, unaware of the evil that approached.