I awoke late at night to Barta barking under my window. Moonlight filtered through the window hangings, which lit my room enough for me to find my dressing gown. Barta saw me through windows, and the piercing note atop her plea forced me to shake off the slowness of sleep. In the distance, our stable master Henley rode toward her on his own horse.

"Barta!" he said.

I knew the scolding that was likely to follow, so I slipped out the windows onto the slim balcony beyond. Barta didn't bother me without reason, and I had a hunch what it might be.

Henley saw me. "I'm terribly sorry Barta woke you, Cathy. I had the matter well in hand." He coughed into his sleeve.

"You very well should have come, Henley. You know my instructions. I don't want you spending your nights chasing Medusa." The wind blew through my gown, and I shivered.

"I'll only be a minute to change," I said, then hurried in and shut the door before Henley could form a response.

I threw open my hope chest, then lifted the false shelf within. A set of boys clothing lay there, where I placed them last.

Dressed, I stuffed my braid under a cap, and then added a warm coat to my disguise. I spared only a moment for the looking glass. No matter how I dressed, close up I still looked like me. Thank heaven for darkness, the true concealer.

I slipped onto the balcony and climbed over the rails. I crouched low, then held the balusters as I inched myself closer to the ground.

"Fffmph." The breath left me as I fell onto the snow-packed ground.

"What a pity the trellis fell down last month," Henley said. "Your father told me the wind must have been something fierce."

"Yes," I said, still flattened. "A great pity."

Henley helped me to my feet, then held out Barta's leash. I took it, then turned toward where I knew Medusa had gone.

"Cathy—"

"Not to worry Henley. I'll take it from here. Get some rest."

Henley pursed his lips, then let his shoulders slump as he exhaled. "I don't like for you to go out alone, deary."

"I know it."

"Good. Off you go then, and don't get yourself caught."

Barta led me for over an hour before we caught up with Medusa. I was fit to freezing. She stood by the stream, looking across into the fog. In the moonlight, she looked every bit as possessed as the moment I first saw her.

Mamma and I had been on a visit to Mrs. Durston, some three years past. We were walking out to our carriage when Medusa bolted into view, frightening our carriage horses so much that our driver was nearly thrown from his seat.

I'd never seen a horse so black, so spirited, and so angry. When I saw her charging toward us, my mother screaming, and I holding her up, the world shrunk to just Medusa and I.

Next came a moment I have never been able to describe to anyone. It was as though I was looking at myself—the terror I saw in her eyes, a reflection of captivity and despair. I shoved my mother out of the way, and reached for the horse as she got near enough to trample me. Medusa ducked into my arms and took me up onto her back, and we rode for a mile or two before she would turn back. I would later practice that very maneuver many times, but that first time was all Medusa's doing. My mother was in hysterics, and my father forced me to take the horse back to the Durstons. I did so, three times at least over the next two days before my father agreed to allow me to keep her. When I lay down to find sleep, I remember the rhythm of our ride, and the lingering impression of a kind of song. I still feel that song each time I am with her.

The Durston's sold him to us for very little. Medusa became my horse. She is quite a beast, and is unlike the typical ladies mare one reads about in novels. It was the first time my brothers envied me for anything.

Medusa had been acting up ever since my preparations for departure began.

I shivered with cold, and found myself staring into the fog alongside Medusa. I stroked her curling mane, feeling her warmth and strength.

I led Medusa away from the stream toward a modest stone. Not as big as I'd like, but it would do. I stepped up and swung my leg over her back, scrambling up the rest of the way as best I could. I leaned forward and rested on her neck.

"I am not abandoning you, my dear," I whispered into her ear. "Only a few weeks will part us, and I will send for you if I can. Henley will take excellent care of you."

We rode back to Fullerton, Barta running alongside.

It was going to be a very long six weeks.