Chapter 18
When I woke, the sun warmed my skin through the window and spring smell saturated the air, even inside the cabin. Loonie was gone. I looked for her and saw Kestrel reading a book in her sleeping bag.
“Hey,” I said.
She looked up from her book. “Hey.”
I dropped my voice so Mom wouldn’t hear. “You put Loonie outside?”
Mom lurched half asleep into the room. Kestrel quickly nodded as Mom staggered to the kitchen, picked up the coffeepot that she’d prepared the night before, and put it on the stove. A massive yawn split her face. She’s kind of touchy first thing in the morning and wouldn’t have been too pleased to find Loonie inside the house. I owed Kestrel yet another one.
We quickly fed the horses and had breakfast ourselves, then headed back to the barn. For the first time in ages, Twilight was out of her corner, waiting both grumpily and eagerly by the stall door. She stamped when I was too slow putting on her halter and then kept tugging on her lead rope as I was saddling Rusty. She was so impatient to leave that she didn’t even answer Cocoa’s neigh as we left the barn.
“So where do we go?” asked Kestrel.
Grass Lake, thought Rusty.
I repeated his thought aloud, and we were off.
As we rode, I hoped and prayed with all my strength that the mustangs wouldn’t be there. Twilight’s release could be postponed, maybe for weeks, if her herd wasn’t in our area.
“Mya gave me her gold stud earrings,” said Kestrel. Mya is Kestrel’s oldest sister, the one who’s planning on leaving for university next fall.
“Cool,” I said, trying to sound enthused, and knowing Kestrel was just trying to distract me from what we had to do today.
“Mom said I could get my ears pierced the next time we go to Williams Lake.”
“Cool.” Twilight’s conflict vibrated through me, making it hard to listen to Kestrel. But I didn’t want to shut the filly out – this was the last time I’d hear her thoughts.
“That’s a lot better than the way Mya got her ears pierced. She didn’t want to wait until we went to Williams Lake, so she did it herself.”
“Um, yeah.”
“First, she sterilized a big fat needle and then froze her earlobes with ice cubes and then… Evy, are you listening to me?”
“Yeah. Sorry.” How sad that Twilight kept trying to squish down her feeble hope that I would let her free.
“And then she poked the needle through.”
And yet how she ached to gallop away from me, to never see me again, to completely eliminate me from her life and thoughts. “It sounds gross,” I said aloud.
“That’s not even the gross part. That came when she took the needle out.”
“Hmmm.” If only she’d given me a chance. That’s all I’d wanted. All I could have asked for.
“And put a sausage through her ear.”
“Yeah.” But there was nothing more I could do or say to convince her I’d healed her, not hurt her.
“Okay, so now I know you’re not listening.”
“What? I was listening. You said, um… you said something about sausages?”
Kestrel laughed. “Never mind.”
Near, said Rusty. He stopped and Twilight stopped beside him, every muscle alive with anticipation. She hadn’t sensed them yet.
“What’s wrong? Are they close?”
I nodded my head, unable to speak.
“Where?” whispered Kestrel.
Where? I asked Rusty.
To the right. He stepped out again.
“Rusty knows which way,” I explained to Kestrel.
We’d only ridden thirty seconds when Twilight sensed her family. She charged forward, then hit the end of the lead rope and was flung around to face us. I stopped Rusty and pulled her toward me. Her despair plunged over me. But not surprise. She’d expected me to stop her. She knew without a doubt that I’d wanted to torture her further.
Take ropes off first, I said, but she wasn’t listening.
“Is she okay?”
“Yeah. She just knows they’re there.” I swung out of Rusty’s saddle.
“Are you going to turn her loose here?”
I nodded. And that’s what I did. I simply unbuckled her halter and let the leather slip from her head. At first she froze, as if she couldn’t believe I’d actually done it, and then she was running away from us, kicking up mud like a racecar. Not a word of goodbye. Nothing.
I scrambled back into Rusty’s saddle, and then Kestrel and I were off in silent pursuit. The trees whipped by to our left and right – and then Rusty slowed. I signaled to Kestrel to slow Twitchy as Twilight’s rump disappeared over a hill in front of us.
Rusty stopped at the top of the hill. I searched the trees before us with frantic eyes. When I saw Twilight, she was already down the gentle slope and had just reached the lake. On the other side, eating last year's grass, was her herd. Silently, I pointed them out to Kestrel.
Twilight’s high-pitched neigh rang across the water and, like quail, the mustangs scattered. Within seconds, they were all in the forest – except one. Wind Dancer. She stood like stone, and then ran toward Twilight, snuffling loudly.
They met halfway around the lake, sniffed at each other and squealed, then, far too swiftly, they galloped into the forest.
I let out my breath in a rush.
“Wow,” said Kestrel. “That was quick.” She sounded disappointed.
Goodbye, Twilight! I mind-called after her.
Goodbye, Twilight, said Rusty.
Goodbye, I tried again. But there was no response.
“They even know Twilight and they’re still like scared rabbits,” Kestrel said, shaking my concentration.
I only wanted to help you. The thought flew after the filly and bounced off her joy.
“Evy? Are you okay?”
“That’s how they’ve survived for so long, I guess,” I said, with a shaky voice. “The herds have been here for more than two hundred years.”
“It’s so awesome that you helped her. You saved Twilight’s life and now she’ll grow up to have wild babies. A whole line of mustangs will exist because of you, Evy.”
Even with Kestrel trying to cheer me up, the ride back to the cabin was almost unbearable. Then, minutes after we got back to the barn, Kestrel said goodbye and took off for home, and I felt even worse. I took care of Rusty, but couldn’t stand being in the same barn as Twilight’s empty stall, so I went into the cabin, shut the bedroom door, and crawled into bed.
At suppertime, Mom insisted that I come out to eat, and then that I go take care of Rusty and Cocoa for the night. She said it would make me feel better, and it did as long as I kept my eyes to the one side of the barn. Right after, I went back to bed, feeling Twilight’s loss like a chunk ripped out of my heart.
That night, Mom came into the room and tried to get me to talk. She said she planned to spend more time with me and that she was sorry she’d been neglecting me – as if that was the problem. I told her not to worry about it, but she didn’t really listen, and started listing all the things we’d do together.
When she finally blew out her lamp, I stared out the window. This night was cloudy too and I couldn’t see any stars. I stared out the window as I lay waiting for sleep, hoping to see Twilight appear there, nosing my window with an uplifted head. Pure fantasy, and I knew that. My hope was long dead.
Eventually I closed my burning eyes, dry from too many tears. Doing the right thing really stinks sometimes. If I could just sleep, then the worst day of my life would finally be over. Tomorrow had to be better. It couldn’t get any worse, anyway.
Winter of the Crystal Dances Page 18