Discord

[Merry]

A Monday Morning

"No, you go ahead. I don't wanna go." Fritz sounded sullen, even to his own ears.

"All right, if you're sure," his mother replied gently. "You know you'd be welcome."

"I know. I just don't feel like it."

There was a pause on the other side of the door. Merry knew better than to push him. Fritz had always been the quieter one, more inclined to retreat into himself when something was troubling him. Lately, though, he seemed to be spending more and more time alone. He had stopped volunteering information, stopped joining conversations unless someone directly addressed him, and seemed to have developed an uncanny ability to disappear whenever the rest of the family gathered.

She worried about him.

"All right," she said at last. "We won't be gone long." She heard no answer.

Merry lingered for another moment, her hand resting lightly against the doorframe. She could almost picture him on the other side—curled up somewhere with a book, perhaps, or sitting at his desk staring out the window. He had always been so different than the other two, but lately it felt as though he had put another door between himself and everyone else.

Merry turned away.

Outside, the morning was cool and bright, the sort of crisp spring morning that seemed to sharpen every sound. Somewhere beyond the barn, a horse gave a soft, impatient whinny.

The sun was still low enough to cast long shadows across the yard, but there was already warmth in the light. Dew clung to the grass, glittering whenever Merry glanced toward the pasture.
She followed her two older children out to the barn.

Otto was industriously scrubbing a grass stain from the haunch of his mare, Mito. He attacked the offending patch with considerably more energy than was necessary. His rather severe Germanic features looked positively thunderous, and his vivid blue eyes almost seemed storm-gray in the morning light.

"Mutti, I wish Fritz would come out with us. We wouldn't have to jump or anything. We could just walk along the road."

Otto sounded both plaintive and angry, as though Fritz's refusal were a personal insult.
Merry smiled faintly.

"I know you do."

"Yeah, but we'd have to go really slow for Scout to keep up," Stefi pointed out. She was leading Magic, a tall bay mare, from her stall. The mare followed willingly, her dark mane falling in a thick, slightly tangled line down her neck. Stefi brought her to the crossties and fastened her in place with practiced ease.

"So?" Otto said belligerently, looking up at his sister.

Stefi gave him a look. "I mean, that'd be fine, but we're conditioning these horses, so we have to go faster than a walk. That's all I'm saying." She tossed her long blonde ponytail over her shoulder and reached for Magic's brush.

Otto muttered something under his breath.

"What was that?" Stefi asked.

"Nothing."

"It didn't sound like nothing."

"Children." Merry's voice was mild, but it carried the warning both of them recognized.

Otto went back to scrubbing Mito. Stefi began brushing Magic in long, even strokes.

"It's a nice morning," Merry said. "So let's not fight."

Neither child answered, but the tension eased.

"Scout is pretty decrepit, it's true," Merry continued, unable to keep a hint of amusement from her voice, "but Fritz will start lessons with Eddie, the new trainer, soon. We'll have to find him a better driving pony in any case." She reached over and patted Otto's arm. "Perhaps then he'll feel like coming with us."

"I hope so," Stefi said quietly. "It's not really a family outing without him along."

Otto nodded, though his expression remained troubled.

Merry looked toward the barn door. Through it, she could see a slice of the house beyond the yard, bright in the morning sunlight. She wondered if Fritz was still in his room, and whether he was actually resting or simply sitting there, listening to the rest of them prepare to leave. She wished she knew what was going on in his head.

Weekends were usually show days, so the family had made a habit of riding out together on Monday mornings. It was supposed to be a conditioning ride, something practical and useful for the horses after the demands of a show weekend. In reality, it was mostly an excuse for them to enjoy one another's company.

There had been a time when Merry had taken those mornings for granted. She didn't anymore.

She didn't see as much of her children as she would have liked, especially before Karsten's death. Even now, she found herself missing them at odd times during the day. Sometimes it was something small—a laugh from the other end of the house, a familiar pair of boots left by the door, a horse behaving in some ridiculous way—that would remind her how quickly life had changed.

Karsten's absence had altered the shape of their lives. There were still the same rooms, the same furniture, the same horses stamping in their stalls and demanding breakfast at precisely the hour they had always demanded it. Life had stubbornly continued. But it was different. Everything was.

The Monday rides had become precious because of that. They were one of the few times when everyone seemed to belong to the same world again. Except Fritz had been drifting farther from it.

Merry pushed the thought aside. For now, there were horses to tend.

She went to Witch's stall and opened the door. The mare lifted her head immediately, ears pricking forward at the sound of her name.

"Come on, girl."

Witch stepped out willingly, placing each hoof carefully on the aisle as Merry led her to the crossties. She began grooming, working the currycomb over the mare's coat until the dullness gave way to a healthy shine.

The familiar rhythm soothed her. Brush. Lift a hoof. Pick it clean. Brush again.

Around her, Otto and Stefi settled into their own routines. The earlier argument disappeared as quickly as it had begun. Otto inspected Mito's legs with meticulous attention, muttering to himself in German about the grass stain, while Stefi worked Magic's coat until the bay mare gleamed.

For several minutes, the only sounds were the soft scrape of brushes, the occasional stamp of a hoof, and the faint creak of leather. It was companionable silence—the kind that came only from people who knew one another well enough not to need conversation to fill every empty space.

Merry glanced at her children. Otto had grown so much in the past year that sometimes she could hardly reconcile him with the little boy she remembered. He was becoming serious, responsible, and stubborn in equal measure.

Stefi was different, quicker to laugh and quicker to speak her mind, but there was a steadiness in her that Merry sometimes suspected even Stefi herself didn't recognize.

They were growing up.

All of them were.

Perhaps that was why she felt Fritz's absence so sharply.

He was still her youngest, still the boy who ought to be pestering his older siblings and asking questions until everyone begged him to stop. Instead, he had closed himself away.

Merry finished grooming Witch and ran a hand down the mare's neck. "You ready, girl?"

Witch flicked an ear back toward her.

"I'll take that as a yes."

By the time the sun had climbed above the trees, all three horses were brushed and tacked up. Their coats shone, their tack was clean, and the morning air smelled of leather, hay, and damp earth. Otto led Mito toward the barn doors. Stefi followed with Magic. Merry paused for one last glance toward the house.

For a fleeting moment, she considered going back inside and asking Fritz one more time. Then she decided against it. He knew where they were going. If he changed his mind, he could always come after them.

She mounted Witch, settling easily into the saddle. Otto and Stefi swung up almost simultaneously. Witch immediately gave a little hop sideways, tossing her head and snorting into the crisp morning air.

"Really?" Merry murmured.

The mare pranced another step.

"You've been standing there for twenty minutes waiting for me, and now you're impatient?"

Witch flicked her ears toward her as though the accusation were entirely justified. Merry laughed despite herself and gathered the reins.

"All right. Let's go." They started off at an easy trot.

The road around the property was quiet at this hour. The three riders settled naturally into formation, their horses' hoofbeats falling into a steady rhythm against the packed earth. For a while, there was no need for conversation.

Then Stefi spotted a hawk circling high above the trees. "Look!"

All three tilted their heads upward. The hawk wheeled effortlessly against the pale blue sky, its wings spread wide.

"Beautiful," Merry said.

A little farther along, the river flashed between the trees.

"Did you see that?" Otto exclaimed.

A fish broke the surface, throwing itself into the morning light before disappearing again with a silver splash.

"I saw it," Stefi said.

"You nearly missed it."

"I did not."

"You did."

"I was looking at the hawk."

"That's not my fault."

Merry smiled as she listened to them bicker. She cherished every damn moment with them. She knew this wouldn't last forever.

Someday these children would leave to begin lives of their own, with their own homes and their own families. They would have jobs and responsibilities and people waiting for them somewhere else. There would come a morning when she would look around and realize that the house had become quiet.

But that day was not today. Today they were here.

Today Otto was arguing with Stefi over a fish.

Today Magic was tossing her head because she wanted to go faster.

Today Witch was eager beneath Merry, and Mito was stepping proudly beneath Otto.

Today, at least, they were still together.

They rounded the bend and came upon the first set of jumps on the new cross-country course. Stefi's entire expression brightened. "Should we try out the new course?"

Merry looked ahead. The course was still relatively fresh, the jumps clean and inviting. The lower obstacles had been designed for conditioning and training rather than serious competition, but there were a few that would require more attention.

"Okay," Merry said. "But nothing crazy."

"We'll go slow for you, Mutti," Otto promised.

Merry turned her head slowly toward him.

"Oh, will you?
"
Otto grinned. "You're getting old."

Stefi burst out laughing. Merry shook her head.

"I give birth to you, raise you, feed you, teach you to ride, and this is the thanks I get."

"I'm just concerned about your safety."

"Of course you are."

She couldn't help laughing. Still, beneath the amusement, Merry was painfully aware that they were not wearing safety vests. They always wore helmets. That was non-negotiable. But helmets were not the same as full protective equipment, and Merry knew perfectly well that she was allowing herself to be carried along by the excitement of the morning.

She was an Olympic veteran. She knew the risks.

So did her children.

At fifteen and sixteen, Otto and Stefi were still junior riders, though both were already accomplished enough to make her proud. They had grown up around horses, and sometimes Merry had to remind herself that experience was not the same thing as invulnerability.

"Keep it sensible," she warned.

"Yes, Mutti," they chorused.

Merry narrowed her eyes. "That sounded suspiciously cheerful."

Stefi laughed.

They set off at an easy canter. The first obstacle was small and straightforward. Magic took it neatly, Stefi leaning forward with practiced ease. Mito followed. Witch gathered herself beneath Merry and jumped cleanly.

"Good girl."

They continued. One obstacle became another. A log. A low bank. A narrow brush fence. Nothing difficult for experienced riders and well-trained horses, but enough to put some energy into the morning.

Otto grinned gleefully every time Mito cleared an obstacle. Stefi laughed, high and pure, whenever Magic stretched into the gallop between jumps.

Merry found herself laughing, too. For those few minutes, she forgot about Fritz. Forgot about all the things she couldn't fix. She was simply riding.

By the time they reached the end of the course, all three horses were breathing hard. Merry brought Witch back to a trot, allowing the mare to stretch her neck.

"Well done, girl."

Otto was grinning. "That was fun."

"It was," Stefi agreed. Then her smile faded. "Why can't Fritz just ride?"

The question was innocent enough. Merry's heart tightened anyway.

Because he was badly frightened by his father trying to force him up onto a tall horse when he was only six.

The memory came back with painful clarity. Fritz had been so small then. Much smaller than his brother and sister had been at that age, and far more cautious. While Otto and Stefi had approached horses with the fearless enthusiasm of children who assumed the world was safe, Fritz had watched from a distance.

Karsten had never understood him. He had become accustomed to having fearless children who loved riding, no matter how far from the ground they were. He could not understand why his third child had not loved the horse he had bought for Fritz's birthday.

To Karsten, fear had seemed like weakness. To Merry, it had simply been part of who Fritz was. She had understood him better. He was more like her than either of the other children—quieter, more observant, more cautious. He needed time. He needed to trust before he committed himself.
Karsten had never given him that time.

Merry swallowed the old anger before answering. "Horses scare him," she said quietly, "and he's too tall to ride a small pony."

Otto frowned.

"He's not scared of everything."

"No," Merry agreed. "He isn't."

She looked toward the road ahead. "Being afraid of something doesn't mean you're afraid of everything."

Otto was silent. Stefi looked thoughtful. Merry reached down and patted Witch's neck.

"We'll find something that works for him."

"Like a new pony?" Otto asked.

"A better driving pony," Merry said. "One that isn't half-dead on its feet."

Otto's face brightened.

"Let's find him one."

"Let's," Stefi agreed.

Then Otto's expression became determined. "Then he'll have no excuses."

Stefi nodded. "Maybe."

Merry glanced at them both. "Don't push him." Neither answered.

She knew they meant well. They missed him. They wanted their brother back. But Fritz didn't need to be pushed. He needed to be given a reason to come out of his shell.

"Perhaps the new coach can help us with that," Merry said, allowing a little hope into her voice. "Eddie might know exactly what sort of pony we should be looking for."

Stefi smiled. "And maybe he can help Fritz feel better about horses."

"Maybe." Merry looked back toward the house, though it was no longer visible through the trees.

She hoped so. More than anything, she hoped so. Because she wasn't sure how much longer Fritz could keep hiding from the things that frightened him. And she wasn't sure how much longer she could stand by and watch him do it.

(2584 words)