The Scorpio Races

by Maggie Stiefvater

But Corr could no sooner go to California than he could fly, and in any case, I’m uncertain what a life like that would hold for a capall uisce. He loves the sea and to run, and while I could give him one of those things, we were happy.

It’s something I’d taken for granted, just the presence of him. I rest my cheek against his shoulder, my eyes closed for just a second, and then I whisper to him. Find happiness.

The cliffs tower above me and I try to console myself, I will find another capall uisce, I will ride again, I will move to my father’s home and be free. But there’s no comfort in my thoughts.

He is slow, and the sea sings to us both, but he returns to me.