In the exact center of a clearing, in a forest near the village of Vyre, which was sensibly located next to the River Vyre, because why make things complicated?

  There was a dead rat the size of a dog. Some rats grew that large in Caer Glas.

  Eating the dead rat was a creature so black it looked like a hole in the world—except for the fangs. The creature was horse-shaped, but it was not a horse. It had a horn. Oh, and bat-like wings.

  At the edge of the clearing a teenage boy was creeping up to the horse creature. Trying to be quiet. Failing miserably.

  She glanced toward the boy without lifting her head. This’ll be interesting. Then promptly continued eating the rat. Unbothered.

  The boy crept closer—slowly, carefully, the way one approaches a wild horse.

  Except she wasn't wild. And she wasn't technically a horse.

  The boy got closer. "Easy there," he said in a low, soothing voice.

  She turned her back on the boy and let out a trumpet-blast fart. It echoed through the forest. Night creatures and birds startled and fled.

  The boy jumped, then grinned. Farts were always funny. At least, they were funny for approximately five seconds, which was how long it took for the smell to reach him.

  Then he started coughing and gagging and dry retching, and all efforts of stealth were instantly abandoned. “What did you eat? Three-day-old rat? That smell is terrible!”

  “Why yes, boy, that’s exactly what I’m eating. Want some?”

  He jumped back, startled that the creature spoke to him! He’d never met a creature who could speak. "You— I— you can—" He swallowed hard. "You're not a horse. You must be a vampire horse."

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  She chewed on the rat's tail. Chewed some more. Swallowed. "Nope."

  "A unicorn-vampire then... hang on, I know this! My... my... my uncle told me about you—you're a Grave Mare! You drink blood, and sunlight kills you."

  She snorted.

  "So, what ARE you then?"

  "I'm a Nightmare. Carrion eater. I clean up what's already dead." She paused. "And what are you, boy?"

  "What do you mean what am I? I'm human. My name is Brad."

  "Nice to meet you, Brad."

  "That can't be very nice," Brad said, curious.

  “It’s what I eat. Kind of like you eat pottage, I imagine.”

  “Ha! Every day.” Brad’s voice was amused. “Though I've got honey cakes today—"

  Nightmare, or the nightmare? Brad wasn’t sure, but her ears pricked up. "—Do you like honey cakes?" Brad asked cautiously.

  Her eyes went wide and she nodded enthusiastically, mane flapping. "Do fish have lips?"

  Brad grinned and pulled out two small honey cakes, offering them to her.

  "Oh, you're a sweetheart." She walked over and gently took the cakes with her lips.

  Brad moved closer. “So… could I maybe get on your back? Just for a bit?”

  "Absolutely not," she said firmly.

  “What do you mean, no?” Brad asked while taking a step closer.

  "Horses are there to take people places," Brad said, moving closer again. "That's why the gods created them—to carry men."

  "Nope," she said, sidestepping as his hand reached for her.

  "I've ridden horses my whole life—" Brad said, frustration creeping in.

  "Not going to happen, boy," she said, sidestepping again.

  "No need to be rude about it." Brad planted his fists on his hips, looking at her like she was a naughty child.

  She looked right back at him. Sternly.

  Her look had no effect.

  This is going right over this idiot's head. Obviously hasn't learned the subtle art of body language.

  “Fine. FINE.” Brad huffed and kicked the dirt. He turned around and walked away

  "...gonna come back with the lads..." she heard him mutter.

  She flexed her wings

  She watched him go. They always bring friends the second time. More sporting that way.

  She went back to her rat.