The Horseman returned to the bonfire flushed from the hunt carrying a yearling deer and a pair of fat hares. He was met at the edge of the clearing by Daredevil. Swift as thought, he reached into the demon-beast's mind then pushed his awareness outward into the night and forest. It took no more than a moment to find the boy.
Anger flooded his mind spilling over to his mount sending the animal into a frenzy. With a curse, he mounted and wrenched the horse's head in the right direction. He thundered through the night taking a perverse pleasure in seeing the creatures of the forest run before him as if he were the very Devil. Mixed with the anger was a soul deep fear that confused him. That confusion only fed the fury until he seemed to burn white-hot from within.
The storm rose behind him as if in response to the emotions raging within the Hessian. He pulled Daredevil to an abrupt stop. Surprised, the horse reared and twisted nearly losing its balance. The Horseman snarled, hissing through sharpened teeth. The rising wind carried the sound of hoofbeats.
Someone else was travelling through the night toward his prize. It was she, Katrina, the white witch. She had found him. His eyes narrowed as he ran through his options. To kill the witch outright was to lose the boy forever. He was certain of that. To sweep down and bear him away before she arrived would only make him feel trapped and confined, and that was what had driven him into his arms in the first place.
Always the strategist, the Mercenary pushed his rage into the back of his mind where it would simmer until he could act on it, a weighed his options. Finally deciding on a course of action, the Ghost faded silently into the trees.
On the path, Katerina shivered with a sudden chill. Ichabod had disappeared from her awareness completely then reappeared as suddenly, but somehow her protections and bindings on him were gone. A long peal of thunder from overhead startled her mare. The horse half reared nearly unseating her. Clinching her teeth and setting her jaw, she kicked the horse into a run and headed toward the ruins of the cottage. For a moment she thought she heard hoofbeats behind her, but it was only another clash of thunder. A brilliant flash of lightning lit the trail before her.
In the ruins, Ichabod looked up in time to see a brilliant flash of lightning overwhelm the sky casting everything in stark white light and blinding him. He knew he should move and go seek out shelter before it broke. He could make it to the village but the thought left him filled with a nameless revulsion. He could head back to the tree assuming he could find it again. He had not been paying much attention to his direction as he traversed the woods lost in thought. He berated himself for acting like a child for the second time since his return to Sleepy Hollow. He was not even sure that his phantom lover would be near the tree of the dead. Even if he was there or out searching the forest for him, he would at best be angry with him for leaving like a coward when his back was turned. He really did not want to contemplate the worse case.
He laughed bitterly into the rising wind allowing the gale to dry his tears. He sure had a way with relationships. Now he owed both Christiaan and Katrina explanations. Either was a formidable opponent, and both deserved more than he could give. Irritation replaced self pity momentarily. Neither of them had a right to control him to demand so much of him. He was a grown man. What did it matter what either of them thought. The laughter took on a slightly hysterical edge. What kind of an adult would go haring off into the woods in the middle of a storm when someone who cared about him was doing his best to please him even if that someone happened to be a homicidal manifestation of a murdered soldier.
The mad laughter turned to quiet sobs. How could he explain anything to anyone when he was so messed up himself.
Nearby, hidden by a thick copse of cedar, the Hessian felt his anger melt away with a suddenness that left him shaken. An unfamiliar ache took its place. He wanted to go to the boy, comfort him, take away that pain, and keep him forever safe, but that detached and calculating portion of himself aborted his movement. The events that would decide all their fates were already in motion, it was too late to change plans now. He had to trust inhimself and the boy.
"He came to me." The Hessian whispered defiantly into the thunder's roar. "He needs me." Ichabod's words ran through his mind like a mantra. He would be patient for the first time in his life or death. For thefirst time, he knew that he had a cause worth fighting and dying to keep.