by Manda Scott
So it came down to me and Nina, as we all knew it would. We put it off as long as we could and then on Monday, the day after the last of the other pups had gone, we took two of the ponies and headed out past Galbraith’s and up over the moors to the ben. We took the longest route. Two hours out and longer back with lunch up by the loch in the middle and most of it spent talking through the tangled circles of her reasons for and my reasons against and somewhere in the middle, a fuzz-coated pup with bright amber eyes and a way of answering back that reminded me, stupidly, of Bridget and didn’t help the logic at all.
Nina got her way in the end, of course. There was never really any doubt about that. I just wanted to make sure we were doing it for the right reasons.
And so, yesterday, eight weeks from the day she was born, we put Megan in a van with one of Sandy’s friends and sent her up to Arisaig, to live with Matt Hendon, to hunt rabbits with his father along the side of Loch Morar and to sit by his chair in the evenings looking out over the Sound of Sleat towards Eigg and the south tip of Skye.
It was odd, letting her go. She’s left a gap that the rest of them don’t quite fill. But no, when I think about all of the possible ends to the nightmare, I don’t begrudge him her company at all.
If you enjoyed Manda Scott’s NIGHT MARES, you won’t want to miss any of the titles in this series.
Look for DEATH, SANG THE RAVEN, coming in paperback from Bantam Books in summer 2000.
And don’t miss HEN’S TEETH, available now at your favorite bookseller’s.