“I’m going to break off all my teeth at this rate,” Verdad muttered. He had thought this trail would lead to some promising forage. But such was not the case. The only vegetation they could find was the mosses and lichen on rocks, which, although tasty, were never sufficient. They had made fairly good progress, more than halfway to the top of the ridgeline. But the weather in the Mighties was fretful, alternating between blasts of warm sunshine and, two minutes later, thick clouds rolling in with sleet or snow. The snow so far had not been heavy, for which they were thankful, as some of the inclines were quite steep and to attempt them in snow would have been difficult.
“You can stop complaining,” Sky snorted, trotting up to Verdad. Sky was the scout for Verdad’s group, which was the smallest one of the now immense herd, with only twenty horses.
“What, you found something? Real grass?”
“There’s a beaver pond not far from here — cattails, berries.”
“No prickles?” Verdad asked.
“My, aren’t we getting picky about prickles! Verdad, might I remind you that we have been in desert country for most of our time here and the plants there had nothing but prickles for the most part.”
Verdad ignored the criticism. “Where is this pond?”
Sky looked at the sun. In the short time since they had divided into separate groups, each with its own scout, the shadows of the evening had started to settle earlier and earlier. Winter was fast closing in on them. The sun was halfway down. “By twilight, I think we should get there.”
“That’s not long.”
“Not at all. Now round up our herd and come along.”
“Is there enough for everyone?”
“There is enough for all four herds. I’ve already told Estrella, Abelinda, and Arriero.”
“Enough for all?”
“Yes, all!”
Verdad was delighted. Although they had been traveling for a few days, it had seemed like forever. He yearned for his mates. He liked these other horses and mules fine, but his heart was really with the first herd. Verdad had never known his dam or his sire. If he had any blood siblings, he did not know them. The first herd was all these things to him — dam, sire, and siblings.
He whinnied the signal to move on. “We’re going to join up with the first herd again. All of us!”
“Oh, bless my withers,” Angela said. “I know it’s only been a few days, but I miss them all so much: Bella, Grullo — known him since I was a filly — and dear Hold On. Ah! Hold On. To see that old gray stallion.”
Corazón, who was nearby, looked up and sighed when Angela said Hold On’s name. That wonderful wise stallion with his dapple gray coat and his poor old eyes that had turned milky in blindness. How she missed him.
“And we won’t have to be eating rocks for a while,” Angela said. “I mean this moss is not bad-tasting, but I’d give my fetlock just to have a plant that grows straight out of the earth and not on a rock.”
The horses started on their way, following Sky toward the beaver pond. They had not gone far when the colt overheard the two old mares talking softly.
“Angela,” Corazón said. “Is there something wrong with your leg? Your walk seems a bit off.”
“Oh, I think I just have a small rock caught in my frog. That’s all.” Angela was quiet for a while. “Don’t you think it strange, Corazón, that those little creatures that live in ponds are called frogs? Why would they call such a creature, a little old slimy thing that hops about on those spindly legs and has those bulgy eyes, after the bottom of a horse’s hoof? It doesn’t make sense, does it?”
“There are a lot of things that don’t make sense, Angela,” Corazón said. “Bits and bridles don’t make sense. Muskets don’t make sense.”
“Well, that, of course, is just plumb crazy. But naming those slime hoppers frogs makes no sense, either.”
“What made you even think of this?”
“We’re going to a pond, a beaver pond. We might see a few frogs as well as beavers. I guess that’s why.”
Sky enjoyed listening in on the two old mares’ conversation. How often had he heard them chattering away about some ridiculous little thing. Their voices made the world, this new land, a cozier place. But he was concerned about Angela’s hoof. If this beaver pond proved as good as it looked for grazing, he would suggest to Estrella that they wait there for a few days to give the old mare’s hoof a rest.
The sun had just set, casting a violet tint on the water when they arrived. The edges of the pond were fringed with cattails and tall grasses. Small clusters of horses were scattered about, grazing happily. Sky and his horses were the last to arrive.
Estrella came cantering up with Tijo on her back. “This is a good place. I think by morning it might be snowing. So start grazing.”
“What about you, Tijo? Anything for you to eat?” Hold On asked.
“I found a grouse and caught two frogs and roasted them.”
“Speaking of frogs,” Sky said. “Angela has a rock caught in hers. Could you get it out, Tijo?”
“I thought her trot was off when I saw her coming,” Estrella said.
“I heard it was off!” Hold On added, flicking his ears.
“Let me have a look,” Tijo said as he slipped off Estrella and went over to Angela.
Estrella looked at him as he picked up the old mare’s hoof and, bracing it between his knees, bent over to examine it. The boy had grown not just taller, but his back had broadened. His shoulders had heft and muscle. She looked at the other horses from the first herd who had gathered around to watch Tijo as he picked out the small rock with his bone knife. He’s becoming a man, Estrella thought.
And she and the two colts were changing as well. Soon, she would no longer be called a filly but a mare, and Sky and Verdad would no longer be colts but stallions. An odd thought crossed Estrella’s mind, making her suddenly wistful. I wish my dam, Perlina, could see me as a mare.
Tijo looked up at Sky. “The hoof doesn’t look good,” he said softly.
“It doesn’t smell good, either, Angela. I hope you don’t have green hoof,” Hold On said, his eyes full of concern.
“Nonsense.” The old mare snorted.
Sky cocked his head to one side to draw Estrella’s attention and walked a few paces away from Angela. She trotted over to him.
“What is it, Sky?” Estrella asked. She looked directly into his eyes, which always had fascinated her. With one blue eye and one black, it was like looking into day and night at the same time. She could see, however, that the blue one, usually as bright as a clear morning sky, was shadowed with worry.
“Angela won’t let on how much that hoof is troubling her. I think if it’s possible we should wait here a few days. The grazing seems good.”
“Of course, a few days’ rest might help her,” Estrella replied.
They both looked over at Angela as she limped toward the pond to graze on the cattails near a group of mules.
“Why doesn’t the little mule Mikki graze? She seems to be hanging back,” Sky said.
“Oh, I think the water frightens her. Remember the crocodiles when we first got to that beach far to the south? And they had them on First Island, too. Maybe she spent time on First Island or heard the others talk about them,” Estrella said.
“Don’t worry. I’ll go down and help her. She needs to graze.” Sky turned and headed for the little mule.
Hold On had now come up. Estrella’s gaze lingered on Sky as he went to help the little mule.
“Worried about Angela?” Hold On said.
“Yes, a bit. Sky thinks we should stay here a few days. Give that hoof time to heal. I agree. In the meantime, I think I, and a couple of the scouts, can go out and find good trails. And hallums.”
“Hallums?” Hold On flicked his ears.
Estrella was not sure where the word had come from. Possibly in a dream that she couldn’t recall. But she had awakened with this notion of hallums, the best routes through the tr
eacherous Mighties. When she’d awoken that morning, she saw an immense eagle floating over a mountain peak. The eagle, she was sure, had been in the dream, too.
Tijo’s first words to her upon wakening that morning after the dream were “You saw the eagle.”
“And did you?” she asked.
He had nodded solemnly.
“Haru!” Estrella nickered softly. An eagle with the spirit of Haru. Now the dream she had had made sense. Haru would spy the hallums. The best routes were not necessarily the shortest in distance, but they were less steep and far less dangerous, especially if there was ice on the trail.
A full moon had begun to rise painting the beaver pond silver. The beavers’ water trails sparkled in the night as they plied their way silently across the pond with the branches of cottonwood, alder, and willow that they had gnawed down. They did not seem to mind the horses grazing on the sedges and cattails. One had even told Hold On that they considered the soft plants unappetizing although very nourishing. They did not talk much as their mouths were always gripping the branches they had just gnawed.
Hold On caught the scent first. A tremor of excitement ran through him from his withers to his tailbone. “It’s him!”
“Who?” asked Estrella.
“It’s … it’s …” Hold On was so excited he could hardly get out the name. “It’s Hope!”
A cry went up as all the horses began whinnying. And Hope came bounding onto the banks of the pond.
“You’re back!” Yazz brayed.
“Yes, I am.” Hope trotted out from a thicket. He greeted the horses, but before Estrella could join them, Tijo walked up quietly to Estrella. He needed to talk. She could tell. She didn’t even have to lower her head now for him to reach her ear.
“The eagle is near. I can feel it. Let’s go now while the moon is still rising. It will soon be full. Good light to see by.”
“Yes, you’re right.” But there was a part of her that wanted to stay. She watched as Sky led the little mule Mikki to the water’s edge while giving her a nudge, then nickering words of encouragement. She wanted to watch these new members of her herd learn to become free. She looked back at the horses once more, close to one hundred of them now, grazing around the moon-glazed water. She could not help but think back to the beach where they had swum to shore after being cast into the sea. That was the first time her hooves had ever touched the ground, earth, the New Land. In those days, they did not know what it meant to be owned by humans, but at the same time, they did not know what it mean to be wild. Now they knew. Sky was gently herding the little mule to another clump of sedges. He seemed no longer a colt to her. He was large, almost as big as Arriero. He had grown in other ways, however, and not simply size. As a young colt, he had been impatient and a bit selfish, but over the years, Sky had become tender and caring.
But she knew she had to go with Tijo. Something was calling to him, her fellow long spirit, and they had to follow. Their survival depended upon it.
“Here,” Tijo said. Estrella stopped. Tijo tipped his head back and looked straight up to the top of a towering fir tree.
“What is it?” she asked.
“This is where the eagle nests at the top of this tree. Do you see it?”
Estrella lifted her head. “I see something huge up there. So big it blocks out the stars.”
“That’s an eagle’s nest.” Tijo stood up on Estrella’s back and reached for the nearest branch.
“You’re going to climb all the way up there?”
“Yes,” he replied.
Estrella paused, suddenly nervous about Tijo putting himself in danger. Tijo read her thoughts and smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon.” Then, from her back, he swung up onto the branch directly over his head. Soon he had disappeared into the dense web of the tree’s branches.
She felt terribly alone. She could hear the creak of the tree and Tijo’s breathing as he climbed higher and higher toward the nest and the eagle, the spirit lodge for Haru. But she, Estrella, was left behind with no one. A small breeze stirred around her front hooves. She looked down. There was a swirl of shimmering light, as if a cluster of stars had fallen down from the sky through the branches of the tree. The starry bits began to gather into a form. The memory of her dam flooded through her and with it the scent of the sweet grass.
“Oh!” Estrella gasped.
“You are not alone, Estrella. Never alone!”
It was the tiny horse. And she was speaking. This was the first time Estrella had heard the voice. And it was a female horse. Of this she was certain.
“But why have you come? Why are you speaking to me now? Now at last.”
“The farther I am away from humans, the stronger my voice grows. Look up, Estrella. Look up!”
“I see mountain peaks that scrape the stars.”
“And what else?”
Estrella blinked. She saw the head of an eagle looking down at her.
“Tenyak is the eagle’s name,” the tiny horse murmured. “She’ll guide you over the hallums, Estrella.”
Another voice now came whispering down from the tree. Estrella recognized it immediately. It was coming from the eagle, but it was the spirit voice of Haru. Tenyak is my eye in the sky. We shall guide you to the hallums, but between the hallums, there are dangers. Remember, even as a spirit I am not all-powerful.
These were the same chilling words that Haru had spoken when their first attempt to escape the Ibers had failed.
Tijo had not reached the nest yet but heard the voice of the spirit lodge talking throughout his ascent. Now he clambered over the edge of the nest. But he was not quite prepared for what he found. What is this? he thought. It seemed to be a snowy cover spread across the nest, but although white, it was not snow. Hardly snow, for it radiated warmth. He felt his heart race. A wonderful stream of sensations flooded through him. Were they memories or feelings? He felt suspended in a space between consciousness and dreaming. Between the time, he was a mere infant safe in Haru’s arms and now nearly grown. A space between unknowing and knowing. Between memory and sensation. Between starlight and darkness. The outlines of the world he had known were breaking down imperceptibly, and a deeper, more profound world was revealing itself. He was sifting through a myriad of feelings and memories. He felt the eagle’s eyes on him. The eyes of Haru! He reached out and touched the white. “My blanket.”
“Yes, your blanket, Tijo. It is yours to keep. You have more than earned it.”
Strands of moonlight shuttled through the clouds as Tijo, with the blanket neatly rolled and tied to his back, descended through the branches to where Estrella waited patiently. I am watched, and I am warm! he thought happily. With the eyes of the eagle and the warmth of this blanket, they could possibly make it over the Mighties.
Estrella heard Tijo descending the tree. He slipped onto her back.
“What is that you carry?”
“The blanket.”
“The blanket that Haru made?”
“Yes, the one the chieftain stole.”
“And it is back now.” Estrella nickered with delight. “It is yours again.”
“It is ours, Estrella.”
They heard the beating wings of the eagle Tenyak as she rose in the night, and when Estrella looked down at the tree roots where the tiny horse had first appeared, she saw just a dim flickering and then it melted away like a star in the first gray of a new dawn. Tijo stroked Estrella’s shoulder with his hand, and she turned her head around and rubbed his shin with her soft muzzle.
It had begun to snow. The flakes silver and delicate fell slowly and obliquely in the light whisper of wind. The horse and the boy didn’t say much on the way back to the pond. Though the tiny horse had vanished, the scent of the sweet grass still flowed through Estrella, and though the eagle circled high into the night, the voice of Haru still threaded through Tijo like a song, not precisely words but more like chimes stirred by a breeze. These memories — the scent and the voice — were the things tha
t would carry them across the Mighties, over the passes between the peaks, and they began to shine like moonlit stones on a dark trail as the snow fell softly.
The jagged peaks of the Mighties had dissolved into the mountain mists. The trees shuddered in the icy winds that tumbled over the crests. The scouts had found three decent trails that twined together into a loose braid as they made their way toward the first pass. Although neither Estrella nor Tijo had spoken of their meeting with the eagle Tenyak, or the reappearance of the tiny horse, the first herd seemed to sense that both had met with their spirit creatures, their guides. And most interestingly, this knowledge appeared to have seeped through the nearly one hundred horses and mules that followed them. Often, the animals tipped their heads up and scanned the sky for the spreading wings of the eagle. However, the thick mist that encircled the peaks made spotting the bird difficult. But when they did, a palpable sense of relief ran like a current through the herd. On a bright day, the bird’s broad wingspan printed a comforting shadow on the steep rocky inclines and seemed to almost smooth them down to a flatness similar to the three hallums they had already crossed.
The new horses had adapted to freedom quickly, especially the mare Abelinda. She was an interesting horse who was obviously highly regarded by the others. Yazz had commented on her uncanny intelligence, for she had known her when she was part of El Miedo’s expedition.
Estrella was sure that it had been Abelinda who had spread this notion of freedom throughout the corral. It was Abelinda who had primed the creatures to be ready to run free when the time came. And it was now Abelinda who had comprehended the notion of the spirit guides and how their own lives were linked to a larger destiny.
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