Chapter 3 — The Beast Within

Lily Meadows

The morning dawned gray and heavy, the early light filtered through a thin veil of mist that clung to the hills surrounding Meadowside Stables. From the loft window, Lily watched the slow transformation of the world outside, where muted colors began to sharpen into focus. Her fingers absently traced the edges of her mentor’s notebook resting on the windowsill, the leather worn smooth from years of handling.

The phrase *“Patience in the quiet moments”* seemed to pulse in her mind, an ever-present reminder of her late trainer’s philosophy. But patience felt like an impossible luxury when doubt gnawed at her resolve, whispering that she was in over her head. Her scarred forearm itched faintly beneath her sleeve, a subconscious reminder of what failure had already cost her.

She exhaled, slow and deliberate, her breath fogging the cool glass. Zeus wasn’t going to fix himself, and hiding in the loft wouldn’t accomplish anything. Today, she needed to try again. If her mentor were here, he’d tell her to keep showing up, no matter how hard or hopeless it seemed.

With a steadying breath, she pushed away from the windowsill, grabbed her jacket, and headed downstairs. The barn was quiet, save for the occasional nicker from the stalls. The air smelled of hay, leather, and damp earth—a familiar combination that steadied her fraying nerves.

As she approached the rack of equipment, her eyes drifted to Zeus’s stall. The stallion stood at an angle, his broad shoulders tense, ears flicking back and forth as though he were listening for threats. His coat, a deep black that gleamed like polished obsidian even in the muted morning light, shivered with restless energy. She could feel it radiating from him, sharp and electric, even from across the barn.

“You and me both, boy,” she murmured under her breath as she picked up a lead rope and halter, her hands tightening around their worn leather. The weight of the halter felt heavier than usual, as though it carried all the stakes she couldn’t put into words.

The training arena loomed in the distance, its wooden fences weathered and uneven, overgrown grass pushing defiantly through the cracked dirt. The area felt like both a challenge and a crucible, every step toward it tugging her nerves taut. She hadn’t stepped foot in the arena with Zeus since her injury, and the memory of that day lingered like a shadow in the back of her mind, cold and unrelenting.

As she neared the paddock fence, she spotted Max leaning against it, his arms crossed, hazel eyes shadowed beneath his unruly dark hair. His presence unsettled her. Was he here to observe? To judge? Or to see if she’d fail?

“Morning,” she said flatly in his general direction, keeping her focus sharp and her tone clipped.

He gave a faint nod but said nothing, his expression unreadable. His gaze followed her as she approached Zeus’s stall, a pressure she could feel against her back even as she tried to ignore him.

“Alright, big guy,” she murmured softly, sliding the stall door open with deliberate care. Zeus’s nostrils flared, his ears flattening as she stepped inside. His sharp gaze locked onto the halter in her hands like it was a weapon.

“It’s just me,” she said, keeping her voice low and steady, though her pulse pounded relentlessly in her ears. She didn’t approach immediately, giving him the space to see her, to sense her intentions. The carrot she’d saved earlier peeked out from her pocket, a tentative peace offering.

He didn’t move, but tension rippled through him like a taut bowstring, his muscles twitching as though he might bolt—or worse, lash out.

Minutes stretched long and thin as she waited, her breath steadying as she held her ground. “You’re alright,” she murmured softly, her tone dipping into something she hoped sounded reassuring.

Finally, with a reluctant snort, Zeus flicked his ears forward, allowing her to step closer. She moved slowly, slipping the halter over his head with careful precision. Her fingers brushed his coat briefly—a fleeting connection before the moment dissolved.

The lead rope felt heavy in her hands as she guided him toward the arena. His hooves struck the ground with deliberate force, the sound reverberating in the still morning air.

As they entered the arena, Lily felt the weight of the space settle over her shoulders, pressing down like an invisible burden. The cracked dirt beneath her boots seemed to whisper warnings, dredging up the memory of her last attempt. Zeus shifted beside her, his sharp eyes scanning the area like a predator searching for threats.

She stopped in the center, her breath fogging in the cool air. Max remained by the fence, silent but watchful, his presence an unspoken challenge she couldn’t ignore.

“Okay,” she said quietly to Zeus, looping the lead rope through the center ring of the lunge line. He snorted sharply, tossing his head as if to protest.

She started slowly, guiding him into a wide circle. The rope slid through her hands with careful precision as she encouraged him into a walk. Zeus resisted at first, his muscles tense, but gradually he began to move, his hooves striking the ground in a rhythmic cadence.

But the calm didn’t last.

A bird shot out from the fence, its sudden burst of movement startling Zeus. He reared sharply, the rope straining tight in her hands as he lashed out with his front hooves. The sheer power of his movements was breathtaking and terrifying, a visceral reminder that he was no ordinary horse.

“Easy!” Lily called out, planting her heels into the dirt. The rope burned against her palms as she struggled to maintain control, her heart slamming against her ribcage.

Zeus bucked wildly, his body twisting in the air before landing heavily on all fours. The circle was gone now; he was pulling against her, fighting like a storm unwilling to be contained.

“Lily, let go!” Max’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding.

She ignored him, her grip tightening on the rope as her jaw clenched. She wasn’t going to quit. Not now. Not when so much was at stake.

Zeus surged forward, the rope snapping from her hands before she could react. He spun away, galloping to the far end of the arena in a blur of raw energy and fear.

Lily stumbled back, her knees hitting the dirt as she watched him pace, his movements frenzied and unpredictable.

Max was beside her before she could stand, his hand gripping her arm to help her up. “Are you insane?” he asked, his voice low but edged with frustration.

“I had it under control,” she snapped, brushing off his hand.

“Yeah, sure looked like it,” he muttered, his gaze shifting to Zeus, who had slowed his frantic movements but remained tense, his hooves striking the ground with sharp, deliberate force.

“I didn’t ask for your help,” she said, her voice tight.

“Clearly,” Max replied, stepping back but keeping his gaze steady. “But you’re not going to get anywhere with him if you keep pushing like that. He’s not ready.”

Lily opened her mouth to argue, but the words caught in her throat. Her scarred arm throbbed faintly, a ghost of pain she couldn’t quite ignore. She glanced toward Zeus, who had finally stopped pacing, his sides heaving as he stared at her from across the arena.

“Maybe you’re not ready either,” Max said quietly, his words cutting deeper than she cared to admit.

She turned away from him, walking to the center of the arena where the lead rope lay in the dirt. The world felt heavy around her, the weight of failure pressing down like a lead blanket.

Zeus’s gaze followed her as she bent to pick up the rope, her movements slow and deliberate. She didn’t try to approach him again, not now. Instead, she coiled the rope in her hands and stepped back, giving him the space he desperately needed.

Max didn’t say anything else, his presence lingering by the fence as she led Zeus back to his paddock. The walk was silent, the tension between them thick enough to choke on.

As she unlatched the paddock gate and released Zeus, she hesitated, watching as he moved to the far corner and began to pace. Her chest ached with the weight of it all—his mistrust, her failure, the ever-present whispers of doubt that followed her like a shadow.

Max was waiting near the barn when she returned, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable.

“You’re going to get yourself killed if you keep this up,” he said bluntly.

Lily narrowed her eyes, her grip tightening on the rope in her hands. “I’m not giving up on him.”

“I didn’t say you should,” Max replied, his tone softer now, almost reluctant. “But maybe it’s time to start listening to someone who knows what they’re doing.”

She stared at him, her green eyes sharp and defiant. “And you think that’s you?”

His lips twitched into a faint, humorless smile. “I didn’t say that either.”

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken truths.

Finally, Max pushed off the fence and turned toward the barn. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that,” he said over his shoulder. “But guts don’t mean a damn thing if you don’t use your head.”

Lily watched him disappear into the barn, her fists clenched at her sides. She wanted to scream, to argue, to tell him he didn’t understand. But deep down, a small, infuriating part of her knew he was right.

She turned back toward Zeus’s paddock, her gaze locking on the restless stallion. “We’ll figure this out,” she murmured under her breath, more to herself than anyone else.

The echo of her mentor’s words lingered in her mind: *“Patience in the quiet moments.”*

But patience felt like an impossible luxury when everything threatened to crush her.