by Stacy Gregg
Aunt Hester and the ranger were out on the driveway. Issie lay down on the veranda out of sight and watched as the ranger got into his Jeep and said goodbye to Aunt Hester.
Issie watched the Jeep drive away and then she waited until she was sure that Aunt Hester had gone back into the house. She couldn’t risk being caught and she knew she had to hurry. If Aunt Hester knew what she was about to do she would try and stop her. It was better if Issie just left now without saying anything. By the time Hester noticed that she was gone, Issie and Blaze would be on their way. With a little luck they’d capture a pony or two and be back home again in time for dinner, and Aunt Hester would be so amazed she wouldn’t have the chance to be mad at her.
Issie climbed silently down the fire escape ladder, then hid against the wall of the manor until she was sure that no one was around before making the dash across the manor lawn down to the stables.
The big wooden stable doors made such a loud screech when she opened them that Issie was sure Aunt Hester could hear them all the way back up the driveway at the house. In the gloom of the stables she checked to see if Aidan was there. Luckily he wasn’t. She raced straight to the tack room, grabbing her helmet, Blaze’s saddle and bridle and a spare halter off the racks that lined the wall.
“Hey, girl, it’s me,” she said as she unbolted the door to Blaze’s stall. The chestnut mare nickered when she saw her. Issie opened the stall door and slipped inside. She gave Blaze a carrot and ran her eyes over her pony’s legs. She seemed none the worse for her galloping efforts yesterday.
Issie was about to start tacking up and then she stopped. What was she doing? This was crazy. She was all alone and there were at least thirty ponies out there. She didn’t even have a plan. But then, what other chance did the Blackthorn Ponies have without her? She couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.
“Come on, Blaze,” she said to the mare as she threw the saddle blanket across her back. “We’re going for a ride.”
A shiver ran down Issie’s spine as she led Blaze up through the five-bar gate on to the forest ridge track. The last time they rode the ridge track they had been forced to run for their lives. Now Issie listened keenly, alert for even the slightest sound from the trees. Apart from a few bird calls, the woods were totally silent. “There’s nothing in there,” Issie told herself out loud. She stepped up on to the rungs of the gate and leapt lightly into the saddle, gripping the reins to steady Blaze, who was pacing nervously underneath her.
“What is it, girl?” Issie asked. She held her breath for a moment, trying to listen again, but still she heard nothing. Her eyes scanned the woods in front of her. “It’s nothing,” she told herself firmly. “You’re just imagining things.”
Issie pushed Blaze into a trot, deciding that the mare would settle down once she began to move. “Easy girl, there’s nothing there to worry about,” Issie reassured her. All the same, she found herself keeping one eye on the woods beside them as they rode on.
Eventually they reached the point where the track finally veered away from the forest and travelled down into the farmland and Issie breathed a sigh of relief. “See, Blaze? No big, bad kitty chasing us this time,” she said, giving her pony a pat on the neck.
As the track into the farmland flattened out, Issie pushed the mare into a canter and stood up in her stirrups as Blaze fell into a steady, swift stride. They cantered on like this for a long time and by the time they slowed back down to walk again Issie could see the peak of the green hills that surrounded Lake Deepwater in the distance.
On the lake ridge Issie pulled Blaze to a halt. The Blackthorn Ponies were there, just where she had seen them last time, grazing peacefully. Issie held Blaze back for a moment, uncertain what to do next. She didn’t want to startle the herd and risk a stampede. Perhaps if she rode around to the far side of the lake where the blackthorn thicket grew she could sneak up on them under the cover of the trees.
She turned Blaze around now and rode back out of sight of the herd, down the slopes away from the lake, circling around the ridge. As they reached the point where Issie figured the blackthorn trees must be she rode Blaze back up over the crest of the hill so that they were looking down on the lake once more. The herd were still grazing happily. They had no idea that Issie was stalking them. Issie held Blaze still as she counted the horses – the buckskins and bays, pintos and greys – “…twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven…” She smiled at the two foals frisking along beside their mothers. “…and the foals make twenty-nine, thirty!”
Suddenly the peaceful scene was disturbed by the shrill whinny of a horse. Issie looked up along the ridge. The stallion! Issie had been wondering where he was. She held her breath and tried to keep a grip on the reins as Blaze danced and pulled beneath her. The mare wanted to run. Issie knew how she felt. She was scared too. And there was time to run now, before the stallion came too close. This time, though, something told Issie that she should hold her ground.
The stallion’s stride ate up the ground as he cantered swiftly towards them. He was just a few metres away – closer than the last time they had met – when he stopped dead in front of them. He was so close that Issie could see his flanks quivering with nerves. The stallion let out a deep snort and shook his head, but instead of charging at them as he had done last time he stepped backwards, as if uncertain what to do next.
Issie realised now that it was fear, not hatred, that had driven him to attack them when they met last time. As far as the black horse was concerned, they were strangers – they were a threat. Even now, the stallion was deciding if it was safe to be this close or if he should gather his herd and run.
Issie ran a hand down Blaze’s neck. The mare was shaking with tension. Issie murmured softly to her horse now, trying to soothe her. “Easy, girl, be nice, let’s see if we can make friends, eh?”
The stallion took another step forward then stretched out his strong, elegant neck and greeted Blaze nose-to-nose. But Blaze wasn’t so sure she wanted to make friends. She gave a tempestuous squeal and lashed out viciously at the black horse with her front leg.
“Hey, hey, girl, it’s OK,” Issie kept speaking gently to her horse.
Blaze seemed to listen to Issie’s soothing tone because she let the stallion touch noses with her again and this time she didn’t strike out.
And then the penny dropped. Issie had ridden out here on a whim to save these ponies, and here she was, so close to the stallion. Wouldn’t Aunty Hess be thrilled? she thought to herself, if Blaze and I could bring him home to her? After all, hadn’t Aunty Hess been convinced that the black horse was the son of Avignon, her own beloved Swedish Warmblood? If Issie was going to save just one horse from this herd, if that was all she could do, then it had to be this horse. She knew that now.
As the big black drew in close again, trying to touch noses with Blaze once more, Issie saw her chance. She unhooked the rope attached to the halter on her saddle and leant over to slip it gently, carefully over his neck. Nearly there, nearly… Issie held her breath as she leant in closer to the black horse. The stallion kept a wary eye on Issie but he didn’t flinch.
“Steady, boy, it’s OK,” Issie said. Suddenly the stallion felt the rope against his neck and realised what was happening. He startled backwards and Issie, who had been intent on her mission, found herself losing her balance. As she made a grab for Blaze’s mane to keep herself from falling she felt herself lose her hold on the halter and it slipped out of her hands and fell to the ground.
“Damn,” she cursed under her breath. She had no choice but to dismount and get it back.
Carefully, slowly, Issie climbed off Blaze’s back, trying not to spook the black horse with any sudden movements as she dismounted and edged over to pick up the halter lying in the grass. All the while as she moved, she kept talking to the stallion, her voice steady and low. For a moment, the horse stood there calmly, his ears swivelling as he listened to her. Then, suddenly, he decided that he had had enough. He backed away f
rom Issie and Blaze, wheeled about and set off at a gallop towards the herd.
At the same moment Issie, who had been preoccupied with trying to reach the halter, realised she was no longer holding on to Blaze’s reins.
“Blaze!” Issie leapt forward and made a grasp at the reins, but Blaze was spooked now. She backed away from her, confused and panic-stricken. Issie lunged once more in a last desperate attempt to catch her horse as Blaze snorted in surprise and then turned and broke into a canter, following the stallion across the tussock grass, heading towards the herd.
“Blaze! No!” Issie’s voice was a rasp in her throat as she shouted desperately after the mare.
Issie began to run after her, but the sudden movement of the two horses had frightened the rest of the wild herd and now they too began to scatter. As Issie sprinted across the tussock grass she found herself surrounded by Blackthorn Ponies, all of them in a blind panic. The herd were on the move and none of them wanted to be left behind.
Issie had been worried about Blaze but now she found herself fighting for her own life as she was forced to duck and weave her way through the panicky herd. The ponies seemed to be all around her now and they were in a frenzy, not knowing or caring that they might run over the girl who was in their path. Issie let out a shriek as a little bay pony narrowly missed colliding with her and she had to make a leap to get out of the way in time. As she did so she lost her footing and stumbled on a rock. She crouched down, instinctively curling into a tight ball, and managed somehow to wedge herself into the small hollow beside a large rock. The next thing she knew there was a rush of air and noise overhead and the sky above her became a thrashing, boiling mess of hooves as the herd came right over the top of her. Issie squealed and put her hands over her head. The noise around her was deafening.
By the time Issie was sure it was safe to stand up again the ponies were miles away and running up the ridge that led away from the lake. She had lost sight of Blaze completely. Where was she?
Issie held her breath and scanned the horizon, her heart beating like a drum in her chest. Where was her horse?
There! Blaze was running right near the front of the herd. Issie could see her flaxen mane and tail streaming out in the wind, her head held high as she galloped. Suddenly Blaze stopped, wheeled about and looked back towards the lake. She seemed to be searching anxiously, as if she knew she was lost and she was trying to find Issie again.
“Blaze!” Issie called out. “I’m over here! Blaze!” She cupped her hands to her mouth and whistled, but she was drowned out by the shrill call of the black stallion as he galloped up the ridge behind the mares, driving his herd on, forcing them over the crest of the hill.
“Blaze!” Issie called out desperately again. It was no good. Blaze had turned away already. Issie watched helplessly as the horses disappeared over the rise of the hill.
“Blaze!” she cried out again, but she knew it was futile. The sound of hoofbeats was so distant now she could barely hear them. The wild ponies were gone – and Blaze had gone with them.
Issie stared at the ridge for a long time after that, unable to believe what had just happened. Then she walked back across the grass, shaking and sniffling, until she found the spot where she had dropped the halter. She reached down to pick it up and then found herself collapsing in tears on the ground next to it instead. She was in big trouble this time and she knew it. She had no way of getting her horse back. Not only that, she was stranded hours from home and no one even knew where she was.
Issie lay there in the long grass thinking about what she should do next. Should I wait here? she wondered. Maybe Blaze would come back again. She couldn’t just leave Blaze out here with the herd. Blaze wasn’t a wild horse – she had no idea how to survive in the wild. And she was still wearing her saddle and bridle. What if she got tangled in a tree or something? Besides, the black stallion was so protective of his herd he might turn on Blaze and hurt her. After all, she was an outsider. There was no way Blaze would be strong enough to fight a stallion like that. She had to follow the herd and try to get her horse back.
Issie looked at the halter lying next to her. She picked it up and stood up, surveying the ridge in front of her. Then she threw it down on the grass and flopped down next to it once more. What was she thinking? Blaze was probably miles away by now. Issie had no chance on foot. The only logical thing to do was to try to get home and get help. If she set off now, Issie figured she might reach Blackthorn Manor before nightfall.
There were two ways to get home from Lake Deepwater. She could go home the same way that she had come, along the northern ridge past the forest, but somehow taking the same route home again didn’t seem like such a good idea. She might be able to outrun the Grimalkin on Blaze, but on foot it would be a different story. Besides, the woods would creep her out too much. Better to go around the loop of the Coast Road. It would be slower by an hour or so, but at least it was open countryside.
Issie consulted her map. The Coast Road ran right through the length of Aunt Hester’s property, starting at the sea and travelling past Lake Deepwater and through acres of rolling farmland all the way back to Blackthorn Manor. To the left she could see a peek of blue ocean on the horizon. She turned to the right – it was going to be a long walk back to Aunt Hester’s.
The word “road” was actually a bit grand, Issie decided as she walked along. In fact, the Coast Road was not much more than a broad dirt and gravel track. It was wide enough for a car or a truck, but it wasn’t a real road. This was private land and the only people who ever drove down here would be Aidan or Hester. There was no chance of Issie hitching a lift.
After she had been walking for a couple of hours the road swerved back inland and cut a broad ribbon through lush green pasture. The sun was shining overhead, but a cool breeze stopped the day from getting too hot. Issie stopped for a moment and took off her jersey and put it in the backpack along with her helmet and the halter.
She was just hauling the pack back on to her back when she heard a noise. She looked around but she couldn’t see anything. For a moment she held her breath, not moving. There it was again! It sounded like a low, rumbling growl. She scanned the horizon. The land to her right was open green pasture, but to her left there was a dense, tangled thicket of blackthorn trees, not far from the road. Issie looked at the blackthorn trees. She couldn’t see anything, but she was sure she heard something. She started walking again but she had only gone a little way further down the road when she heard it once more. This time she was certain. It was a low, rumbling feline growl. The Grimalkin was in the blackthorn bushes and it was stalking her.
Looking back later, Issie realised that what she did next was dumb. But panic had gripped her. She kept walking for a moment as she tightened the straps on her backpack and then, without even daring to look back, she broke into a run and began to sprint as fast as she could.
As soon as she started running the noise behind her became louder. She could hear the Grimalkin thrashing through the undergrowth beneath the blackthorn trees, the deep, feline growl growing nearer and nearer. It was chasing her. She should never have run, she realised. She couldn’t outrun it. Maybe she should try to climb a tree? But then the Grimalkin would probably just climb after her. Besides, there weren’t any trees to climb! Issie could feel the pounding of her heart in her chest. She couldn’t keep running like this for much longer.
Behind her now she heard the Grimalkin, getting even closer. And then she heard another noise, a noise that made her heart soar. It was the sound of hoofbeats. Too scared to slow down, Issie tried to keep running and look behind her at the same time. The sun was glaring overhead and as she squinted into the brightness it was hard to see. Was that a horse approaching her down the dirt road? Yes! It was a horse. She could see the dapple-grey coat shining like armour in the light of the afternoon sun. It was Mystic!
As the little grey gelding got nearer Issie thought fast. She stopped running and jumped on to a nearby tree stump. “
Mystic!” she called out.
The grey pony swerved to follow her and as he drew close she made a flying leap for his back and scrambled quickly onboard. Mystic slowed down just for a moment while Issie regained her balance, and then he surged on again at a gallop, with Issie clinging on desperately, her hands wrapped tightly into his long, flowing mane.
“Go, Mystic!” Issie urged the horse on. She needn’t have bothered though; Mystic was already stretched out running, his legs flying over the ground beneath him, his hooves striking out a frantic rhythm on the rock-hard dirt of the road.
When the dapple-grey finally slowed his stride they had left the blackthorn bushes way behind them and Issie knew that they had outrun the Grimalkin. It wasn’t until Mystic began to walk and she could untangle her hands from his mane that Issie realised how much she was shaking.
“Mystic! Ohmygod! What was that thing?” Issie murmured to the little grey. She realised now, she had been so terrified of the Grimalkin that she had barely had a chance to think about the fact that her Mystic, her own special, special Mystic was back. He hadn’t forgotten about her. He was still here watching over her.
Issie ran her hands down the silvery dappled neck of the little grey. The pony shook his mane and snorted. Mystic was back. Whatever the creature was in those blackthorn trees, he had saved her from it. Issie looked back up the road behind them. There was nothing there. But she knew now that the Grimalkin was still out there somewhere. And so was Blaze.
Issie arrived back home to find the entire manor in a state of high drama. The dogs were all racing around madly on the cherry-tree lawn and Aunt Hester was standing on the veranda with Aidan and a group of men dressed in ranger’s uniforms. Hester, who was doing most of the talking while the men listened and nodded, seemed to be very upset.