Episode 3

Jett jumped up on his bed to get closer to the painted horse. Had this horse always looked this way? The artist had painted him stark black with no white markings. His head was fairly square and his body was slight making him look more like a standardbred trotter than a standard war horse. Jett must have seen this horse before, but not really seen it. The horse was saddled but didn't have the tabards of the other horses. His bridle was just a normal brown leather thing, not the colourful dagged things on the other knightly horses. But the thing that should have made some sort of impression in his brain was that this horse was riderless.

As he examined the horse, he leaned closer to the wall, balancing on the edge of the bed. He was so close now that that he could see each brush mark and he could even see the errant brush bristle caught in the the black tail as it quickly swishes to a new flying stance.

Jett jumped and as he started to fall, world spinning, his bedroom door opened.

Jett landed with a thump in a heap on the floor; his legs caught up in what only minutes before had been his beautifully made bed. His mother stood over him obviously not impressed. His dad stood in the doorway.

'What is this?' his mother yelled. 'I send you to your room and you start jumping on your bed? Have you lost your mind? Did you think this was a joke? Did you miss something? Like that you are in trouble?

'Um. No. I mean yes. I know I'm in trouble but I wasn't jumping on the...' why bother? He wouldn't say anything that would change her mind today.

His dad walked over and offered him a hand up. Jett took it and his dad set him onto his feet.

'So,' his dad said. 'I understand that you and Brathdon had a bit of a disagreement today.'

'It was more than that,' his mother interrupted. 'My nerves can't take it anymore, Stephen. Jett just seems to like to start fights and he seems to enjoy his punishments.'

Jett's dad turned to her and smiled. 'I understand, love. How's about you go down and help Brathdon with his homework. I will take care of this.'

Her face softened and she left Jett's room. Jett knew that she loved him but she just always sided with Brathdon. That's just how it always was.

Once she was gone, Jett's dad straightened the covers on the bed, sat down and patted the spot beside him. Jett joined his dad.

'She's being a bit hard. Isn't she?' he asked.

Jett nodded.

'What happened?'

Jett recounted his side of the story. And at the end, Jett's dad said, 'Okay, I need to go talk to your brother. You can stay here. I'll be back to discuss how we are going to solve this issue.'

Then he left.

It would be a lie to say that Jett wasn't a bit nervous about what was going to happen when his dad came back but, it would also be a lie to say that Jett was so concerned that he had forgotten the painted horse.

So, as soon as his door closed, Jett jumped up onto his bed again.

The horse's tail had swished again because it was wagged towards Jett when he stood there again. But that wasn't the strangest part. You see, the horse's head was now turned and looking at him.

Jett stared at the horse. How was any of this possible?

Jett reached out to the horse, stretching forward. But it wasn't the cool painted wall that Jett's finger's found. Instead, he felt warm fur.

Jett pulled his hand away so quickly - as if he had been burnt - then he fell again.