11/03/2024 NotAWriMo, BANSHEE BEACH: 1677/55493.

Busy day, had to stay up late to finish. But I did!

So. Horses have ropes. Ropes have ends. The ends go in driver’s hands. Easy, right? Sure it is! Especially when the rope ends are right there, flapping around. They weren’t even out of reach. Why, one rope knocked my hat off, with a whir and a snap.

Yeah. Something like that’s not out of reach at all.

A younger, dumber me would have tried to snatch at the hat, then probably ended up clinging to the door frame and trying to keep from sucked in under a wagon wheel. But I ain’t dumb like that. It’s a hat. I could always go back afterward and find it again. I might have to fight a bobcat or something to retrieve it, but Shamuses have a mystic way with animals. That is, they usually prefer to claw, instead of claw-claw-bite. So I kept my eye on the prize.

At least, until Priscilla went for the hat.

She had been watching behind me, and when my headgear went flying she leaned out just a little too far, and got herself off balance. To be fair, she did grab the hat, and for one brief second it looked like she could maintain an even strain; but then the wagon bumped a rut, and the magic was gone. I can still see the look on her face as she toppled back onto the indifferent road below…

…and then I grabbed her flailing hand with one of mine, and concentrated really hard on holding onto the door with the other.

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