The Train Incident

Mikhail had woken her up at four-thirty in the morning, and judging by the look on his face, he regretted every life choice that had led to this exact moment. At least, Hela hoped he did.

She stood at the bottom of the train ramp, hooves planted and ears turned back in what Mikhail had termed her “obstinate mule position”. She stared up the ramp like it was the entrance to hell.

“It’s literally a train ramp,” Mikhail said as he rubbed a hand over his face. “You walk up ramps all the time. It’s completely safe.”

The mare breathed out through her nostrils like a dragon discovering fire for the first time. The metallic clatter of other horses loading into their cars echoed through the station, and she took a tiny step backward.

“No. No, no, no.” Mikhail stepped behind her, planting a hand on her shoulder. “Forward. You know, the direction of travel. The direction of people who cooperate.”

Chernysh, tethered to nothing except his own disregard for authority, circled overhead and screamed directly at a conductor. The conductor ducked and glared but wisely refrained from starting a fight with a raven who clearly had no concept of personal boundaries.

Mikhail clicked his tongue. “If the bird can handle the station, so can you.”

Hela flicked an ear toward him but remained firmly rooted.

“Okay,” Mikhail sighed, stepping around to face her. “Look. If we miss this train, we miss check‑in for the hunting event. If we miss check‑in, I have to deal with a mountain of paperwork, and you don’t get to run around chasing fake deer flags with two dozen other horses and pretending it’s war.”

Hela considered that. He had a point. Reluctantly, dramatically, offensively slow, she put one hoof on the ramp.

“Good girl,” Mikhail breathed. “See? Nothing scary.” The ramp groaned under her weight and Hela bolted up the rest of the way so fast Mikhail had to grab the rail to keep from being yanked off his feet.

“I don’t understand why this is so hard for you,” he groaned. “You load into the trailer just fine. There’s absolutely no difference.”

Except there is, Hela thought grimly. The trailer doesn’t want to kill me, and I’m quite certain that trains do. She snorted as he latched the train car door shut behind her and went around to the door.

She glanced around, acquainting herself with the inside of the car. Mikhail had his own rail car for transportation when he was competing, and outfitted it comfortably for long distances. He’d taken a livestock car and converted it into two stalls for horses, a feed room, a small luggage closet, and an open living space with a mini kitchen, a table, and a lounge area. A small bedroom with a full bath on the far end completed the space.

Mikhail opened the person-sized door at the far end and entered, holding the door for Chernysh as he swooped in.

A few minutes later, the train lurched forward with the enthusiasm of an exhausted horse being bribed with an old carrot. Hela spread her legs slightly to balance, irritated that the ground would dare to move under her.

Mikhail sat back on the couch and flipped through the event packet. “We’ll check-in tonight,” he read aloud. “Orientation is in the morning, after breakfast and a quick lunge session if desired. The demonstration will be at nine, the grounds tour at eleven, and the mock pursuit run starts at two. Day two starts at eleven, so we can do whatever we wish that morning.”

Hela reached over her stall door, snaking her neck out as far as she could get it. Just barely, she could lip at his shoulder from where he sat on the couch. Mikhail turned with a chuckle, bringing the packet into reach. She snatched it out of his hands, chewed the corner thoughtfully as he demanded she let go, then spit it onto the floor.

“Really?” he said. “You didn’t even swallow it. That’s just rude.”

Chernysh landed on a metal support beam and began pecking the bolts one by one, creating a loud clacking noise.

“Please stop,” Mikhail glared up at him. “That is excessively annoying.” Chernysh pecked harder and Mikhail threw the chewed packet in his direction.

The train shifted around a curve violently and Hela slammed into the padded walls Mikhail had installed for just such an occasion. She snorted angrily. She hated standing in one place, hated the rumbling, and hated the distant whistle. But mostly she hated the shifting beneath her and constantly having to adjust her balance. She pinned her ears and glared at the floor.

Mikhail rose, stroking her neck. “I know. I know. It’s a long trip. But it’ll be worth it. Think of all the chaos you’ll cause tomorrow. And I’m sure that we’ll win the hunt.”

She tossed her head in agreement and he laughed.

“I’m going to go lay down,” he said with a yawn, hiding it behind his hand but not before Hela yawned too. With another chuckle, he crossed the car and entered the bedroom, shutting the door behind him and leaving her and Chernysh in the relative quiet of the rumbling car.

***

There was no warning. Just one violent jolt that threw Hela off balance and caused Chernysh to fall from the rafters. Hela screamed, an explosive, guttural sound, and the door to the bedroom slammed open. Mikhail lunged toward her, across the car, and grabbed the stall door as she slammed into the wall again.

“Easy! Easy!” He tried to comfort her but interrupted himself to swear as the train jolted again and screaming metal made it too loud to hear. Then bumps and jolts knocked them both around and he fell hard against the couch.

Luggage spilled out of the closet and pots rattled around in the kitchen’s locked cabinets. A grinding sound filled the air as a forced, unnatural deceleration caused Mikhail to go flying again.

The livestock car skidded sideways on the track. Hela braced herself wide and trembled, but she stayed upright. Mikhail managed to get himself into the stall and pressed himself to her side, arm around her neck, murmuring useless things like “I’ve got you” even though neither of them had anything under control.

Then finally, silence. No movement. Dust settled in the slanted beams of morning light.

Mikhail coughed, wiped his eyes, then checked Hela’s legs with frantic urgency. “Are you okay? Nothing twisted? You aren’t injured?”

Hela shook herself from head to tail, offended by everything that had just occurred but very much intact.

Chernysh dropped from a rafter, feathers puffed out like he’d survived a war. He glared at Mikhail as if this derailment had somehow been his idea. He landed on Hela’s shoulder and snuggled in, chirping angrily.

“I’m going to go see what happened,” her rider said. “Can you be calm if I leave?” He took a step back, as if to test her, and Hela snagged his coat with her lips and pulled him back.

“Okay, I will take that as a no, then,” he ran his hand over her forehead. “Hopefully they will come and tell us what happened.”

Only a few minutes later, a knock on the personnel door of the car had Mikhail disentangling himself from the stall and rushing over.

One of the train conductors stood there. “We’re going to cars to give status updates,” he said as Mikhail opened the door. “You folks alright?”

“My horse is fine,” he responded. “I don’t think I’m concussed, though I hit my head pretty hard. I’ll definitely have some bruises though.”

The conductor looked exhausted. “Tracks were damaged a few kilometers back and it caused a mechanical failure in the brakes as well as damaged the wheels of the engine. We can’t move the train and there’s no road access nearby for buses. The closest town is… twelve kilometers northwest. We’ve got plenty of food, but I think we’ll be stuck here for the night. It probably won’t be until tomorrow afternoon until they can get the tracks repaired and send an engine to us.

“Tomorrow afternoon,” Mikhail repeated, voice cracking like a man on the edge. “The hunting event is tomorrow morning.”

The conductor gave a sympathetic half‑shrug. “Not much we can do.”

Chernysh hissed at him.

“Right back at you,” the conductor muttered before leaving.

Mikhail sat down on the broken couch, head in his hands. “We trained for weeks for this. This was my chance to get some of the other stud farms interested in our work too. And now we’re stuck.”

Hela walked over and nudged him, nearly knocking him off the seat.

He looked up.

She stared down at him with a look that said, Well? Are we going or not?

His eyebrows rose. “You want to finish the trip … on foot?”

Hela blinked slowly. Chernysh landed on her back with the self‑assurance of a king choosing his warhorse.

Mikhail exhaled through his nose. “Alright. Fine. Yes. That’s the only option left.”

He stood, dusted himself off, and patted Hela’s shoulder. “Let’s get your saddle then.”

He walked over to the feed and tack closet and opened it, sighing as he saw the busted bin had spilled all over the floor. The tack was in a heap on top and he carefully untwisted all of the buckles and straps.

He tacked Hela up quickly, adjusting the straps and testing the buckles. Thankfully, it appeared, and felt, as if the expensive equipment had made it through the trials without issue. Although Mikhail did have to dust off quite a bit of grain from the saddle blanket so it wouldn’t irritate her back as he rode.

Chernysh hopped onto the saddle and refused to move as Mikhail tried to shoo him off.

“You can fly, bird,” he growled. “Now get moving.”

With an unhappy kraaak Chernysh fluttered off the saddle.

“Alright, let’s go, then.” Mikhail tied Hela to a ring just inside the livestock door and hopped out the personnel door. A loud creak sounded as he pushed the door open and pulled the ramp down from beneath the car.

Eager to escape the death trap, Hela pulled at the reins and Mikhail clambered up the ramp to untie them.

“Slowly,” he cautioned as he led her down the ramp. Ignoring him, she half-trotted down the slick surface and sighed in relief as her hooves hit the snowy forest ground.

Mikhail swung himself up into her saddle and settled in it lightly.

“Alright, love. Let’s get going then.” He urged her on, past several other train cars, and she noticed that a few of the other competing hunters were doing the same.

Mikhail steered her toward a forest trail which ran perpendicular to the train tracks. It was narrow and muddy from the melting snow, but she picked her way through with careful precision.

“I wish I would’ve brought a riding saddle,” he grumbled. “This is not the best.”

Chernysh cackled at him and he glared at the raven. 

“Stop that!”

Hela kept a steady pace until they hit an uphill stretch. Then she surged forward, almost jogging, full of irritation‑fueled energy.

“Easy, love. Slow, SLOW-”

She ignored him, forging onward, jolting him. Mikhail held on for dear life. “This is punishment, isn’t it? You’re punishing me for the ramp.”

Hela flicked an ear back. Yes. And for future crimes too.

They reached the ridge overlooking rolling farmland. Smoke from distant chimneys rose in thin lines. Somewhere beyond those fields lay the event grounds.

Two other riders appeared at the edge of the hill—competitors who’d left before them, already on horseback. Hela’s eyes snapped into focus like a predator spotting prey.

“No,” Mikhail warned. “We are not racing anyone. We are being civil.”

Hela lunged forward.Mikhail swore loudly and hunkered over her neck as if they really were racing.

The riders glanced back in surprise as Hela thundered down the hill, overtaking them with embarrassing ease. One of the competitors called, “I didn’t realize we were racing!” He nudged his horse and they took off as well, but Hela continued to gain ground.

Finally enjoying himself, Mikhail crouched lower and urged her onward. The third rider laughed and loosed his reins, letting his mare leap forward in pursuit as Hela passed them.

Chernysh screamed triumphantly as Hela accelerated. When they reached harder terrain again, he pulled her to a more reasonable pace, allowing the two other riders to pull alongside them.

They continued for hours through muddy tracks, across a creek that splashed all over Mikhail’s boots, down a winding dirt road that smelled like moss and wet leaves.

Every so often, he leaned forward, talking quietly to Hela. “You’re doing amazing. Really. I know it’s a long haul. I know you didn’t sign up for this level of cardio.”

Hela tossed her head proudly.

“You’re a champion,” he continued. “A gremlin. But a champion.”

He also conversed with the other riders, though Hela mostly ignored their horses. They mostly ignored her as well.

As dusk settled, they crested a final hill and below them, tucked between pines and rolling meadow, spread the hunting event grounds.

Flags flapped in the breeze and horses whinnied in their small arenas and paddocks. A few riders milled around, and event staff with clipboards bustled around. Whooping, Mikhail and the other riders urged them down the slope.

A large sign greeted them at the bottom as they crossed the road. Hela pricked her ears as the sounds of the event overwhelmed them and she trotted excitedly under the banner. Mikhail laughed out of pure relief.

“Good job, love,” he patted her neck. “I wasn’t sure we’d make it before dark, but you did an excellent job.

She nickered her agreement. Of course, I did. I always do.

As they entered the main clearing, every human and horse in sight turned to stare. Three sweaty horses and riders, covered in leaves, dust, mud, and dirt, and slightly cold were a sight to see. And the raven perched on Hela’s rump, cackling at them all was strange as well.

An event coordinator hurried over, clipboard in hand. “Um, hello? Are you registered?”

“Yes,” Mikhail said, sliding off Hela with a groan. “Our train derailed, so we rode the rest of the way.”

The coordinator blinked. “You… rode here. From the derailment site.”

Mikhail nodded.

“Well, we are very glad you’re here. I heard about the issues but we simply couldn’t push off the event,” she apologized.

He waved her off. “No, no, we understand. We’d just like to get signed in and then get our horses washed off. Maybe a shower and a clean bed too?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, of course. We can also provide some clothing if you need any, just over there are the merchandise tents.” She pointed to the far end. “I’ll find some stable boys to take care of the horses for you so you can rest.”

Hela tried to drink from the decorative fountain next to them and Mikhail pulled her away.

“Yes, and maybe some food and water for all of us as well,” he laughed. The other riders fell in behind them as he led Hela to the stable.

“Quite an adventure today, hmm? Hopefully tomorrow won’t be half as stressful, but just as exciting.”

I hope so, Hela nickered. I rather liked everything that happened today. Also, I refuse to ever get on a train again, regardless of how safe you claim it to be.