"What is it, Inky?"
"I don't know how to tell you this, Watson. I've got to go back."
"Back! Back where, Inky girl?"
"Back where I came from. Oh, I might have known it was never to be, that you can't wipe out the past. Still I'd hoped that somehow—some way.... But the Big Bookie says no. I've got to go back where I came from—I don't belong here. He says I was sent as a punishment, not as a reward."
She extended a hoof toward Watson's hand. "I had my baby tonight, Watson. Take good care of her—she's half equine, so she can stay here—and she'll be the fastest thing on earth when she grows up. Prunella'll help you raise her and support the family."
Watson wiped his streaming eyes. "I'll take care of your baby, Incubus," he vowed. "I'll call her Incubus Two and I'll treat her as if she were my own daughter."
"I knew I could count on you, Watson. Well—this is goodbye."
Incubus slowly vanished.
It was hard losing Incubus. He'd grown attached to her, looking on her not only as a horse but a friend. Still, at least he had the colt. In two years she would take up where her mother had left off and again the Watson name would reverberate through the racetracks.
He went inside the stall, looked down at Incubus' daughter, who reposed on the hay looking up at him with big blue eyes. He gasped.