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Mirren became skittish when Anna turned her around and tried to head back towards Tubbercurry. At first she refused to move, then she sprang to a canter, then halted again, and even half-bucked. Anna looked up and down the country road, but saw nothing there nor in the outlying fields. Above them a hawk flew in wide, slow circles through the overcast sky. Far in the distance, a train whistled. Anna looked back down at Mirren, gently patting the Thoroughbred's shoulder. Mirren's muscles were tensed, her chestnut coat quivered. Anna knew the horse could sense the coming rain, but storms had never frightened Mirren before. Mirren was mild by nature, so mild that Anna's father had given her his late wife's name. Anna swung down from the saddle, and stroked the white star on the horse's forehead. She could not tell what she found unsettling in the horse's brown eyes, but she decided to walk Mirren back to town, at least partway. Mirren snorted and threw back her head when Anna reached for her bridle, but Anna caught hold of it. After a slight tug, Mirren gave in and sluggishly followed Anna, as if in tow.

Anna had won the privilege of exercising Mirren for the whole week by beating her brother Michael in a race the night before. He had ridden Felix, acknowledged to be the fastest horse of the lot, but Anna outran him on Gideon with seconds to spare. When Anna accused him of holding Felix back, Michael scowled clownishly and stomped his feet, raving that the race was unfair, Anna was so much lighter. To prove his point, he slung her over his shoulder and carried her home, insisting all the while that Felix ate three times her weight in feed every morning. Michael was 15 already and taller than Francis, their oldest, biggest brother. Although their father was a horsetrainer, it was Michael who taught Anna to ride, not long after she learned to walk. Together they helped their father at the stables, caring for the horses and assisting their father in breaking in the new arrivals. Michael always spoke to the horses. He told Anna he could understand their language, and would interpret for her, with a different voice for each horse. Anna thought of the squeaky falsetto Michael always used for Mirren. She wished he were there to interpret, now of all times.

It was starting to drizzle. Even the hawk was gone now, and a desolate stillness fell over the road. Wearing threadbare trousers Michael had discarded after his last growth spurt, Anna shuddered at the rising wind. She tugged again at Mirren's bridle to spur her on. The horse snorted and switched her tail. As they walked faster, Anna felt feverish. Warm chills ran through her, forming a thin layer of sweat on her skin, and leaving her arms and back clammy under her wool sweater. She looked for familiar roadmarks to gauge her distance. On her left she noticed the large, oddly-shaped boulder her father had told her was a petrified dog. Many yards ahead she could discern the outline of the abandoned hut. Not too much farther to go, she thought, if only the storm holds out. With her next few steps, Anna felt a soft tingling on the sides of her head. The tingling suddenly became a wave of excruciating pressure on her skull. She stumbled a few feet in darkness, lost her footing, and hurdled to the ground.

When Anna opened her eyes, a dark-haired woman with half-closed eyes was watching her with a pitying expression. In her clasped hands she held an icon. Anna squinted to see it, then closed her eyes. She opened them again and saw only Mirren, who looked at her with brown saucer eyes. Anna rolled on her side and struggled to stand up. Touching her face, she found her chin was bleeding, gashed by a pebble she had landed on. Her knees were also scraped, and worst of all, her ankle felt tender and swollen. When she turned it a certain way, she felt a sharp pain. She tried to hoist herself back onto Mirren's saddle, but the horse reared up and whinnied. Instead, leaning hard on Mirren's shoulder, Anna limped along the road back to Tubbercurry, still without a soul in sight. Tears filled her eyes as they passed the abandoned hut. She thought she could not make it home in such pain and discomfort, moving at such a slow pace.

As they were approaching the stream, the halfway mark between the abandoned hut and the town, Mirren once again reared up, then tore away from Anna and galloped ahead. Hugging the curve of the road, Anna hobbled around the bend to see where Mirren had run, when she could not believe her fortune. There on the railroad bridge that spanned the narrow riverbed, Anna saw a figure hurrying across. Even from a distance, Anna could recognize the person as her brother Michael. The ridges of his profiled forehead showed that his eyebrows were knit together, and Anna could tell that his thin lips were pursed, his pale skin pastier than usual. His arms were hanging stiffly at his sides, and he was clenching his fists. He walked quickly in a straight line along the tracks, heading west and away from Tubbercurry. Mind clouded with pain and delight at spotting her brother, Anna scarcely noticed his hurry.

"Michael!" she yelped, then sang "Michael!" She was closer to him now, approaching the railroad tracks with a few hundred yards to cross. In a few minutes she would intersect his direct path along the tracks; meanwhile he was he passing over the bridge's western boundary. She called to him again, louder, "Michael!" Perhaps he hadn't heard her. He did not answer. "Michael, I need your help!" she pleaded. He was a few hundred feet away. He must have heard her. Why wouldn't he answer? Was he still pretending to be angry about losing to Gideon? "Michael, it isn't funny Michael, Mirren's run off and I've hurt my ankle, and I need your help! Please Michael!" At that he finally turned his face towards her. Relieved, Anna smiled. Michael looked with his hawk eyes in her direction--for a moment. Then, as though he had not seen her, he looked ahead again and continued along his straight path westward. Anna was stunned. Michael had never even stopped walking. Anna sat down in the road and cried. Through blurry eyes she watched her brother disappear behind a curve in the tracks. As if on cue, the clouds opened up in a downpour.

It was well past nightfall when Anna finally made it home. In the last hour, the clouds had cleared, and the stars were beginning to shine through the hazy sky. Chilled to numbness, Anna dragged herself first to the stalls. Mirren's brown eyes and muzzle protruded from the opened, upper half of her split door. Her bridle hung next to her door. She must have been home for hours, Anna thought. She dragged herself up to her father's small house. Smoke billowed from the chimney, and light filled the glassless windows. She could hear loud voices long before she reached the door. When she pulled the handle, however, she met a crowd of silent stares. Her father stepped forward, and tugged her gently inside. "There's been an accident, Anna," he said. "This morning--the driver did not see him in time, the train could not stop in time. Or Michael, he seemed not to hear it." Leaping from face to face, Anna's eyes fell on her aunt, who was holding an icon.