The horses were reflected in the wet, grasping sand, and Mary was afraid when she looked down. Images of being sucked into the muddy, cold slime reared up in her mind and she couldn't dismiss them. She closed her eyes and clung tightly to the reins, gripping as hard as she could so as not to topple sideways and be lost forever.

Mitch was not afraid. "Isn't this wonderful?" he asked breathlessly as he rode up to join his wife. "Can you believe we're actually doing this? A lifelong dream, finally realised!" And before Mary could answer and give her true feeling to him, Mitch had disappeared, streaking onwards on his steed.

Mary pulled back on the reins and allowed her horse to trot steadily. She still did not look down. Neither did she look towards the crashing waves or darkening sky. She knew a storm was coming, could smell it, her head ached because of it. Mitch wouldn't have cared if she'd told him - he would keep riding until forever, but that was stupid. He'd have to stop eventually.

Mary found herself wishing he wouldn't. It was his stupid dream come true, she hadn't wanted any part of it in the first place. And if he just kept going, into the horizon, never to be seen again (or, God forbid, dragged down into the sand), Mary could carry out her dream, which Mitch had dismissed.

She crossed her fingers.