Joey was ten years old when she discovered she had the Sight.
Three years earlier, during herseventh year of life, the Timlin ranch had benefited from an unusually prosperous growing season. There was a surplus of food and resources which Master Timlin somehow managed to conceal. He risked death in the arena by withholding goods from the tax collectors, but "Tax collectors and the arena be damned!" he was known to grumble whenever someone made mention of this grim reality.
In a brazen act of defiance of the empire, and despite loud and vigorous protests from Gunther, Master Timlin demonstrated his capacity for compassion and generosity by bequeathing a young steed to Joey on her seventh birthday. Gunther was certain Master Timlin's hoarding would be discovered by Luther's omniscient eyes, and there would be hell to pay for all, but when he saw how overjoyed his daughter was with Timlin's gift, he knew he would fight to the bitter end if Luther or King Harlan himself tried to take it from her.
As it turned out, there were apparently some things Luther did not see, or perhaps he just had bigger fish to fry, but Joey was not hassled for her newly prized possession, and Timlin was not arrested for cheating on his taxes. Although Gunther could not afford to care for the animal, Timlin fed and housed it while Joey groomed it, rode it, and loved it as much as one can possibly love another creature.
And so it went until less than two months after Joey's tenth birthday. It was mid summer, and Joey lay down for a late afternoon nap, during which she became trapped in the throes of a terrible nightmare. She dreamt her beloved young stallion, which she had named Cupid, had fallen lame in the hills to the south.
In her dream the sky was ravaged by a fierce storm, and Cupid was struggling to fend off attacks from circling hyenas. The horse whinnied and cried frantically as bits and pieces of flesh were stripped from its hide, and Joey was sure her heart would burst in her chest. For her the dream was reality, and she was powerless to protect her precious beast, but just when it seemed her poor Cupid's demise was inevitable, Joey's eyes fluttered open.
Drenched in sweat, heart pounding like a jackhammer, Joey screamed.
When her mother rushed to her bedside, scared half to death, Joey was hysterical. "Oh no. No, no, no. Mamma. Please. We have to help him."
"Baby, slow down. We have to help who?"
"Cupid. Please, we have to go now. He's DYING!"
"Baby girl, relax. It was just a dream. Cupid's fine."
Her mother's voice was soft and soothing, full of love. It helped restore sanity and order in Joey's heart, but the dream had seemed so real. So vivid. It had to have been more than just fantasy. "I have to see him."
To this she received no objections, and before her mother could blink Joey was racing off to master Timlin's barn.
Cupid was safe in his stable, morosely chewing hay, as horses do. Not a cloud could be seen in the sky, and Joey's terror seemed ill conceived.
As her nerves wound down and she blew out a deep winded sigh of relief, Joey spied the saddle hanging in the stable. Galloping across the country side, the wind blowing in her hair, invariably provided priceless peace and serenity, no matter how turbulent her life might be. It was beyond therapeutic, and right now Joey needed to clear her head and forget her horrible nightmare. What better path to tranquility than a ride with her beloved Cupid?
And so she rode, gallivanting for miles through the hills surrounding Timlin's ranch, until her nerves were steady and her bad dream was but a distant memory. When she returned Cupid to his stable, nearly two hours had passed, and the sun was setting.
Things went on much as they had for a while, calm and uneventful, and three weeks later when a storm began to brew on a Sixthday morning, Joey thought nothing of it. It looked to be a nasty one, but Joey had seen worse during her ten plus years of life. Not a thought was spent on the well being of her horse or of her dream all those days ago, until Bernard, one of Timlin's ranch hands and a close friend of her father's, came bursting through their front door.
The Harts were gathered in the living room, Gunther sipping tea, his wife knitting, and Joey reading quietly, when Bernard barged in, not bothering with the social convention of knocking. His scalp was split down the side, half his face hidden behind a mask of blood, and his eyes were wild and fearful.
"Gunther, forgive me. Joanna, please, my most sincere apologies."
Thunderstruck, Gunther rose to greet his friend. "Confound it, man, what in creation..." he began, but Bernard barely paid him any mind, brushing past him in favor of his daughter.
"Sweet Joey, I'm so sorry."
Joey looked at him with wide, abashful eyes, but never faltered. She rose to her feet and reached for the gash in the man's head, meaning to heal him. Bernard just waved her off.
"There's no time for that now, girl. Your mount's gone free!"
Joey froze, realizing what he must mean, and her beautiful blue eyes locked with her father's. Gunther, never one to be taken for a fool, understood immediately. Word of his daughter's nightmare had travelled from his wife's mouth to his ears, and Joey's dream had now manifested into reality. Tales had been told of gifted magicians and scorcerers capabable of seeing into the future, and it was now clear that Joey possessed such a gift.
"Joey, get your coat." Not needing to be told twice, Joey raced to her room, and in no time she had returned, tunic draped over her shoulders, riding boots in hand.
"It must have been the storm," Bernard was explaining. "I've never seen him like this." Sharp as a tack as always, Joey was able to fill in the gaps. Bernard had been watering Timlin's horses, when Cupid spooked and kicked him in the head. Her horse now lay lame in the hills, perhaps being ripped to shreds this very moment by blood thirsty scavanger dogs, perhaps already dead.
"Father, let's go." Joey was dressed before her father, bidding him to make haste. Her brow raised as the old man fetched his mage's staff, something she rarely saw him wield since his demotion from the King's court, and they were soon off to the barn, albeit not soon enough for Joey's liking. If they had teleported to the barn, a forgotten skill no magician in the land could channel, it would not have been quick enough. The trio mounted the fastest horses in the stable, and rode for the hills to the south.
"Joey, close your eyes and focus your thoughts. Think back to your dream, and describe to me what you saw. Visualize the size of the hill, the height of the grass, the direction of the wind, tell me everything you can."
Joey did as instructed, providing all the facts her father demanded, and then some. What probably saved her horse's life was the tree she recalled, a small birch in the distance, almost an afterthought in light of the horrific scene in the foreground. The tree appeared to her as she brought back every hideous detail, and upon its mention her father's eyes blazed with recognition.
"That's the old birch by Clandestine Pass, by devil, it must be."
Her father had been right about the birch, and not far from Clandestine Pass they located Joey's dying horse. The foreseen pack of hyenas was present, and for three ordinary travellers they might have posed a formidable threat, but Gunther was able to send them packing with a couple of well placed lightning bolts from his staff.
Cupid was a mess, stripped clean to the bone in some patches, his left hind leg broken and bent at an awkward angle, but still conscious. Joey went right to work, touching her beloved in all the right spots, murmuring silently, and Gunther and Bernard watched in awe as flesh, hide and fur regenerated right before their eyes. Once her horse was whole again, Joey collapsed on the Earth, too weak to move.
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