by Jenny Dale
Giving a little buck, Willow cantered around the paddock. But it was too small. She stopped by the fence and shook her head. She wanted to gallop. She wanted to race over the hillside, her mane and tail streaming in the wind. She didn’t want to stay in this small field.
Feeling bored, she started to chew the top of the fence, but the wood pricked her tongue. “Ow!” she whinnied.
She stopped chewing the fence and started to scratch her head and neck against it instead. The rough wood felt good, and she pushed harder against it.
Crack!
Willow reared back in shock. She looked at the fence. The bar that she had been scratching against had splintered and broken. One side was hanging down.
She pushed the broken piece of wood with her nose. It swung on its nail and then, with a creak, dropped to the ground. Now there was a gap – just big enough for Willow to squeeze through.
Her heart beat faster. She stepped over the lower bar of the fence. Suddenly she was out of her paddock!
“I’m free!” Willow whinnied. “Yippee!” With a delighted toss of her head, she trotted straight down the track that led on to the moors.
Soon Willow felt the springy moorland grass beneath her hooves. She wanted to meet the herd of wild ponies, but they were nowhere in sight.
With a snort she started to canter across the moor. “Hello!” she whinnied. “Is there anyone there?”
Willow went on and on. The grass grew bare as she went higher up the hillside. She trotted past small bushes and clusters of jagged rocks. Soon the farmhouse was out of sight.
The sky grew dull and grey, and the wind blew colder. But Willow didn’t care. She just wanted to find the herd of wild ponies that she had seen the day before. Where were they?
She stopped and sniffed at the air. Was that a smell of ponies?
She went forward eagerly.
The smell grew stronger. Willow trotted around a rocky mound. There they were!
Willow gave a delighted whinny. This was her chance. Now she was going to be a wild pony!
Chapter Three
Willow cantered up to the group of young colts and fillies who were playing on the edge of the herd. “Hello!” she neighed.
They jumped in surprise.
“Hello,” a black colt whinnied back. “Who are you?”
“I’m Willow,” Willow replied. “I’ve come to be a wild pony.”
A couple of the other ponies came forward and sniffed her. “Where have you come from?” a bay filly with a white star asked.
“From Devon Farm,” Willow neighed. She tossed her head proudly. “I broke the fence and escaped.”
The black colt looked puzzled. “What’s a fence?” Willow was surprised. “It’s a wooden thing. It stops you leaving your paddock.”
The other ponies looked at each other. They obviously didn’t know what she was talking about.
Willow gave up trying to explain. “What were you playing?”
“Tag!” the black pony neighed.
The bay filly looked at her. “Do you want to play?”
“Yes, please!” Willow snorted.
The bay set off at a canter. “Catch me then!” she whinnied.
Willow set off after her and soon all the young colts and fillies were joining in. Willow was having a great time dodging and turning when suddenly a dapple-grey mare cantered up with a commanding whinny.
“It’s Storm!” whickered the bay filly, stopping dead.
“Tag!” neighed Willow, touching her with her nose. Suddenly she realised that all the wild ponies had stopped. They were looking at the mare.
The mare stared at Willow. “I am Storm!” she snorted loudly. “Head mare in the herd. Who are you?”
Willow trotted forward to say hello. “I’m Willow,” she neighed. Then she noticed that Storm didn’t seem pleased to see her. She stopped. “I’ve – I’ve come from Devon Farm. I want to be a wild pony,” she whickered quietly.
“You cannot stay. Go home!” Storm snorted.
“But I don’t want to!” Willow whinnied in surprise.
Storm walked forward. “Go back to your stable,” she neighed. “This is not the place for a tame pony like you.”
“It is!” Willow whinnied back. She’d been having such fun with the others. She imagined being able to gallop over the moors with them and graze with them.
“Please let me stay,” she begged. “I really want to.”
There was a pause. Storm seemed to think about it.
“Please,” Willow breathed.
Storm looked at her for a long moment. “You will do everything a wild pony does? You will eat where we eat? Travel where we travel? Run away from people?” she neighed.
Willow was surprised. Why should she run away from people? But she could tell Storm was waiting for an answer and so she nodded. “I will!”
To her delight, Storm’s eyes softened. “You may stay then,” she snorted. She walked forward and briefly touched Willow’s nose with her own. “I will tell Tor that you have joined our herd.”
“Who’s Tor?” Willow asked the bay filly as Storm walked away.
“Tor’s the stallion,” the filly explained. “He’s our leader. We have to do what he says.”
The black colt trotted over. “Come on! Let’s play!”
As soon as Hannah got in from school that day, she raced up the stairs, changed into her jodhpurs and hurried out again to the stable.
She picked up the head collar off its hook and ran out to the paddock. “Willow!” she called. “I’m home!”
Suddenly Hannah stopped. The paddock was empty! “Willow!” she gasped.
She raced back to the house. “Mum! Mum, come quick! Willow’s gone!” she cried.
Willow had a lovely time travelling across the moor with her new friends. At last, late in the afternoon, they all stopped to eat. The grass on the hillside was short, shorter even than the grass in Willow’s paddock. It wasn’t like the springy grass down near the farm.
Willow went over to Star, the bay filly. “Should we go and find some nice grass to eat?” she whinnied. “There’s some lovely grass if we go further down the hillside.”
Star looked at her in surprise. “We can’t leave the herd,” she said. “And we never graze at the bottom of the hill. There are houses nearby.”
“So?” Willow snorted.
“So it’s dangerous,” Star whinnied back. “If we went down there people might try to catch us.”
Willow pawed at the short grass. “But there’s hardly anything to eat here.”
Star nodded. “We get used to being hungry. It’s bad now, but in the spring it will get better.”
In the spring! That was months away! Willow’s tummy rumbled and she thought about the big hay net and bucket of feed that Hannah would bring her at home.
“When I was a tame pony I used to get big buckets of bran and pony nuts to eat,” she told Star. Willow shivered slightly in the cool breeze. “And I had a warm stable with a straw bed.”
Storm, who was grazing nearby, overheard and raised her head. “You must forget those things, Willow,” she whinnied. “Warm stables, straw beds and buckets of feed are for tame ponies, not for wild ones like us.” She looked Willow in the eye. “Are you still so sure that you want to be wild?”
For a moment Willow thought of Hannah walking into her stable with a bucket of food. She wondered how Hannah had felt when she had got to the paddock and found that it was empty.
“Well?” Storm snorted.
“Of course I do!” Willow neighed. But, just for a moment, she didn’t feel quite so sure.
Hannah, Mrs Grey and Mark, Hannah’s six-year-old brother, searched all over the farm for Willow.
“She’s not here,” Hannah said at last. “Mum, what are we going to do? It’s getting dark!”
“Maybe your dad has found her,” Mrs Grey said. Mr Grey had gone out in his Land Rover on to the moors to look for Willow.
But when Mr Grey got back he had nothing to rep
ort. “There was no sign of her,” he told Hannah. “I didn’t see any ponies at all.”
Tears welled in Hannah’s eyes and she started to cry.
“Hush now, love,” Mr Grey said, putting his arm round her. “I’ll look again in the morning.”
“But what if we never find her?” Hannah sobbed.
“We will,” Mr Grey said, hugging her. “We will.”
Chapter Four
Willow woke the following morning feeling stiff and hungry. There was a cold wind blowing. Willow’s coat was thinner than the woolly coats of the other ponies. Hers was not as good at keeping her warm. She shivered.
A little later, Star woke up and pranced over. “Do you want to play?” she whickered. She gave Willow a playful nip and cantered away.
Willow chased after her. Soon the other young ponies came to join in.
With the sun rising in the sky, Willow almost forgot about being cold and hungry. “Can’t catch me!” she whinnied, galloping off as the other ponies chased after her.
Back at Devon Farm, Hannah woke up and lay in bed, thinking about the horrible dream she’d had. She’d dreamed that Willow had escaped from her paddock.
Then suddenly, Hannah remembered: it wasn’t a dream. It was all true. She jumped out of bed and pulled on a sweatshirt. Maybe Willow had come back in the night. Hannah pushed her feet into her slippers and raced downstairs.
But when she got to the stable block she found Willow’s open stable empty. Only Samson was there, looking out quietly over his door.
Willow quickly decided that she was braver than most of her new friends. “Can’t catch me!” she teased, as she jumped on to a rock and then scrambled down a steep slope to get away.
The other ponies looked impressed. Soon Willow was making wild jumps off rocks and leaping over boulders. She could see Storm watching from a distance too.
Wondering what to do next, Willow noticed a semicircle of trees at the bottom of a steep slope. The way down to them was littered with rocks. “I bet I can canter all the way down to those trees!” she neighed.
Star looked alarmed. “No, Willow, you mustn’t because—”
But Willow didn’t listen. “Here I go!” she whinnied.
She set off at a gallop down the hillside. It was a bit of a scramble, with rocks to jump over and gravel patches that moved scarily beneath her hooves. But she kept going as fast as she could.
As Willow drew near the trees, she heard another pony galloping behind her. Soon, the other pony caught up with Willow, then leaped in front of her.
With a whinny of surprise Willow crashed into the other pony and was knocked off her feet. She scrambled up, shaking her head.
Storm was standing in front of Willow, blocking the way to the trees. Her eyes were angry. “You silly young pony!” she snorted. “What were you trying to do?”
“Gallop into the trees,” whickered Willow, feeling confused.
“Do you know what’s between those trees?” Storm neighed. “Come here!”
Willow stepped forward slowly. After her fall, her legs felt shaky and she didn’t like the look in Storm’s eyes. She looked inside the semicircle of trees. The ground was soggy and dark.
“Now watch!” Storm snorted. With a front hoof she flicked a fallen branch on to the soggy ground between the trees.
To Willow’s surprise, the stick slowly started to sink. It disappeared with a squelching noise.
Willow started back with a snort of horror. What had happened to it?
“That is a bog,” Storm said. “If you gallop into it you will get stuck and you will sink.”
“Like that branch?” breathed Willow.
“Like the branch,” Storm snorted. “Many ponies have died in the bogs on these moors. You must be careful.”
Willow backed away from the trees. Feeling very small, she started to walk slowly back up the slope. She glanced up, expecting to see the other colts and fillies watching her and laughing. But to her surprise they had joined the rest of the herd.
On a ridge high above, Tor was whinnying loudly. “Men are coming!”
Storm came trotting up to Willow. “Come quick! We must be on the move.”
Willow wondered what the mare meant. She trotted after her. As they reached the top of the hill, she saw that Tor was rounding the herd up.
“I must go!” Storm said quickly. “Join the herd. You will need to gallop swiftly now.” She cantered away.
Willow hesitated. She was thirsty after all her playing. Surely it wouldn’t matter if she had a drink first. And anyway, why did they need to run away from men? Men were nice. Hannah’s dad, Mr Grey, was a man. She trotted away towards a nearby stream.
Tor came galloping up beside her. “What are you doing?” he whinnied angrily. “You must join the herd!”
“I was just going to have a drink first,” Willow told him.
To her astonishment, Tor nipped her fiercely. “Do as I say!” His teeth came towards her again . . .
Chapter Five
With a squeal of fright, Willow leaped in the air and turned to gallop after the herd. They had started cantering now. With Tor on her heels, Willow galloped faster and faster until she caught up with them and dived in among them.
All around her, black, bay and grey bodies pushed and shoved. Willow could hardly see where she was going. She found herself jumping as the others were jumping, racing over stones and down slopes. One of her front hooves landed on the edge of a rabbit hole and she slipped. With a frightened whinny, Willow stumbled, but found a firm foothold just in time.
Willow was sweating with fear, but with Tor galloping behind her, she didn’t dare stop. She galloped on and on.
When Tor finally let the herd rest, Willow was completely exhausted. Her sides were heaving and her coat was streaked with sweat. She stood with her head lowered, breathing in and out in great gasps. There was a wind blowing, and as the sweat dried on her coat she started to shiver.
After a while, Willow noticed that the other ponies had started to graze. She put her head down too, but the grass was short and she just couldn’t seem to eat enough to get full. No one seemed to want to talk much. Feeling cold, hungry and lonely, Willow walked off on her own.
As the sun started to set, Willow lay down. She started to think about Devon Farm – the warm straw bed, the sweet-smelling hay. Most of all, she thought about Hannah.
Willow shut her eyes and slept restlessly. It was too cold. She was too hungry, and she was still thinking about Hannah.
As the first grey glimmering of dawn started to creep across the moors, Willow sighed miserably. This wasn’t at all how she’d imagined being a wild pony. She raised her head. I want to go home, she thought.
Suddenly she knew that Storm was right. She didn’t belong with the wild ponies. She belonged in her stable at Devon Farm. She belonged with Hannah.
Willow got to her feet. She was not going to be wild any more, she was going to go home. She looked round at the sleeping ponies. Should she tell them?
She took a step towards Storm, but then she remembered how angry Storm had been with her about the bog.
Willow changed her mind. No, she wouldn’t tell Storm. She would just quietly slip away.
Turning, she set off down the hillside.
She started to trot, her heart filling with joy as she thought of getting home, of seeing Hannah again.
As Willow reached the lower slopes of the hill, a damp morning mist rose, swirling up around her.
She kept going – soon she would be home. If she hurried, she might be there before Hannah set off for school.
The mist thickened. It was harder to see now.
Willow hesitated. She peered at the ground, remembering Storm’s warning about bogs. She could still just about see where she was treading, so she carried on carefully.
But the mist grew even thicker, and the air damper. Soon Willow couldn’t even see the ground.
She stopped.
The moors were silent
in the mist and she was all alone.
Willow put one hoof forward. The ground squelched. She snorted with fear, and jumped back.
She didn’t dare go forward. What if there was a bog? She looked round desperately. The white mist was everywhere. Willow wasn’t even sure she could find her way back to the wild ponies.
She lifted her head. “Help!” she whinnied. “Someone, please help!”
Chapter Six
Willow heard her whinny die away. Nothing happened. What was she going to do now?
Suddenly, through the mist, there came an answering whinny.
Willow’s heart leaped. Someone had heard her! Who was it? She whinnied again. “Help me, please! I’m lost!” She waited for a reply. Would anyone come?
A dapple-grey shape appeared. “Don’t worry, Willow,” it snorted softly. “I am here.”
As the shape came closer, Willow saw it was Storm! She neighed in relief. “How did you know it was me? What are you doing down here?”
“I followed you,” Storm whickered. “I saw you leave.” Her wise brown eyes looked at Willow. “Where were you going?”
“Home,” Willow whinnied. She hung her head. “You were right, Storm. I don’t belong with the herd. I want to go back to Hannah and Devon Farm.”
Willow waited for Storm to tell her off. But to her surprise, Storm stepped forward and nuzzled her.
Willow looked up. “Aren’t you angry with me?”
“No, Willow,” Storm snorted. “You are not the first tame pony to try being wild and not like it. Come on. I will show you your way home.”
“But what about the mist?” Willow whickered, looking at the white swirling cloud around them. “We can’t see. It’s too dangerous.”
“Not for me,” Storm snorted, tossing her head. “I was born on these moors. I have run over them every day of my life and I know every rock and every bog.” She breathed warm air gently on to Willow’s face. “Follow me and you will be safe.”