by Paula Boer
Tress pleaded with her friend to escape with Wolfbane. “Come on, it’ll be fun. We’ll probably be back before we come into season anyway.”
Breeze tossed her flaxen mane. “Don’t be ridiculous. We can’t go with that stallion any more than we can refuse to go east. And what about the wolves?”
“We’ll be safe with a mighty warrior like Wolfbane.” She reared and pranced, gambolling like a foal. “We’ll dance with the stallions, our beauty outshining even that of unicorns.” She pounded her hooves in the snow and bit at wet clumps. “We’ll slaughter the bloodwolves and trample them beneath our hooves.” She whinnied long and loud. “All the herds will welcome us in celebration of our victory!”
Breeze sniffed in disdain. “You do what you like. I’m staying here.”
Disappointed Breeze wouldn’t go, Tress was torn between an adventure to meet a unicorn and the familiarity of home for the winter. The final deciding factor became the chance to meet the black stallion again.
As night closed in, Breeze still refused to accompany Wolfbane. Despite her friend’s resistance, or maybe because of it, Tress became more determined to run away with the bay stallion. Adrenalin flowed through her veins, keeping her senses alert. As the bitter wind dropped, fluffy snowflakes started to fall. She tensed as she heard muffled hoofbeats.
A dark horse loomed out of the whiteness, excitement exuding from his warm body.
“Are you coming?” Wolfbane stood so close his breath melted the crystals on her mane.
Tress snatched a last look at her friend and made up her mind. As the Head of Oakvale Warriors departed, she cantered after him, their hoofprints soon covered with fresh snow.
They reached River Lifeflow before dawn, its dark waters roaring like a beast intent on devouring everything in its path, its far side out of sight. Tress perched on the bank, rigid.
Wolfbane stood behind her. “Jump. This is the narrowest spot.”
She hesitated. She had never swum before. The water swirled, bottomless, hiding she knew not what.
She shied as Wolfbane bit her rump. “Get going!”
She could do this. She was a princess! Holding her breath, she leapt, her legs thrashing the air as she plunged into the unknown.
The force of water knocked her sideways. Her legs struck out in frenzy, no ground beneath her. The freezing cold numbed her to the core. She thrashed, fighting to hold her head above the surface. Chunks of ice banged her right side.
Wolfbane’s presence loomed upstream. He overtook her, leaving her to the mercy of the current.
Gritting her teeth, she stretched her neck and paddled to keep up. With relief, she heard hooves clatter on gravel. Her feet touched bottom, floated, and again grounded. This time she scrambled onto the far shore, her lungs searing with every gasp. Her coat froze into icicles as soon as she emerged.
She vowed never to immerse herself higher than her knees again.
“Hurry up, running will help.” Wolfbane set off without waiting for her.
Tress broke into a canter, her hooves numb, and her knees threatening to give way.
They reached a smaller river. Much to her relief, they veered away and headed towards the trees. Apparently, following the river made tracking them too easy. However, when they reached Dark Woods, Wolfbane avoided the shelter, cantering among the shadows at the edge of the forest. He called for her to stay close. “The trees can hide wolves.”
She warmed, and then became hot. Sweat broke out on her chest despite the rush of frigid air. Dark shapes whizzed past her head. She dodged and skidded, every bone brittle with tension. Her breathing laboured. “Can’t…we…slow…down?”
Wolfbane came abreast and snapped at her shoulder. “Not yet. Keep going.”
Tress had never been so cold in her life. As she stared at the vast expanse of water ahead, her heart lurched in fear. This made River Lifeflow look like a tiny creek.
The excitement of leaving the herd for a great adventure had worn off days ago. Her stomach rumbled as Tress dreamed of the oats and hay, the women’s careful grooming, and the company of Breeze back at Flowering Valley. Wolfbane never wanted to talk and drove a hard pace. If he spoke at all, it was only to chivvy her on. Although the snow had long since covered any sign of the black stallion’s passing, Wolfbane claimed this was the right way.
She had no choice but to go on; she couldn’t swim back across the river.
Tress peered down the hillside where the water glinted under heavy clouds. Movement caught her eye. “Look, horses! This must be Silverlake.”
The stallion drove her back from the ridge. “Don’t let them see you. I thought I smelled a herd close by. We must go.”
“Why? They probably live with a clan. We could seek food and attention.” Tress could almost taste the oats and smell the rich alfalfa.
“Attention is exactly what we don’t want.” Wolfbane bit her on the rump, driving her down the hill.
Tress fumed. “Will you stop doing that?” Her bruised hindquarters stung from the many bites she had received since leaving home. Although Streak had occasionally nipped her for some transgression, he never dug his teeth in like this stallion. “The herd might have seen Fleet. They’ll be able to tell us when he passed through and which way he’s headed. They might even know more about a unicorn.”
Wolfbane threatened her with bared teeth. “They might also try to keep you or send a runner back to Streak. Leave the decisions to me and get a move on.”
Fearing how brutal the stallion could be when she crossed him, Tress set off at a canter down the rocky hillside. She ducked and weaved through scrubby trees, lashing out at scraping branches, wishing she kicked Wolfbane instead.
Once hidden behind a low range of hills, Wolfbane changed back to a northwest heading. Avoiding other horses meant ignoring the easier paths alongside creeks or the direct routes over hills and through valleys. Instead, he forced a jagged trail from copse to copse.
Tress groaned and slowed to a walk. “Can’t we graze for a bit? I’m starving.”
Wolfbane sniffed at the tussocks poking through the snow. “These grasses are no good. We’ll keep moving until there’s something better.”
Tress couldn’t imagine they would find anything better than they had for the last few days. As tired as she was of needlegrass, she needed to eat something. Her legs wobbled with exhaustion. She grabbed a mouthful of snow to wet her parched mouth. Only the fear of being alone kept her moving.
The sun had sunk below the horizon by the time Wolfbane called a rest. “We’ll graze here. Keep close.”
Too tired to care about the stallion’s abruptness, Tress tore at the rough blades of tufted hairgrass that cut her tongue. Chewing, chewing, chewing, she followed the mouthfuls from one clump to the other, oblivious of her surroundings, only aware of the cold and her hunger.
A scream rang out.
Tress looked for Wolfbane. She couldn’t see him. What should she do? She reared, eyes rolling. A rank smell wafted on the air.
A pack of wolves sprang from the forest. Wolfbane fought among them. The stallion struck out with teeth and hooves. Shaggy grey beasts smothered him. He knocked one down. Another leapt for his neck. He lashed his front hooves at the attacker’s head before spinning and kicking out with his hind legs. Blood poured from his shoulder. In a moment of respite, he lunged forwards and pounded a downed animal, bellowing in anger.
The wolves that could still run bolted into the darkness. Those who lay maimed or stunned, Wolfbane trampled to death, striking his forelegs hard on their skulls.
Puffed, he limped to where Tress stood gaping. A streak of blood ran down his shoulder. “We’d better move on.”
Stunned by the stallion’s power and brutality, Tress remained silent. Not needing any more encouragement, she set off at a lope, her hunger forgotten.
The following da
ys merged into one long bout of cold and hunger. Tress stopped thinking about where they were going or why, focusing on grabbing enough to eat to keep moving. Only when the snow became too deep to navigate in the dark did Wolfbane let them stop. If her body started to flag, she only needed to remember the wolf attack to give her new energy.
Reaching the flatter grasslands, Wolfbane allowed the pace to slow. The wide open spaces gave protection from the approach of predators. Piles of horse dung and frozen hoof prints looked old. As they headed closer to the river, the snow lessened and the quality of the feed improved. Tress caught herself falling asleep mid-bite whenever she allowed herself to relax.
Heading down to the water, she slurped before raising her dripping muzzle. “This water isn’t as cold as it has been. Do you think spring is on its way?”
Wolfbane walked upstream, tasting the water in a number of places before reaching a fork in the river. He studied the smaller branch coming from the north. “We’ll follow the main stream to the west.”
“I thought we needed to go north. That seems to be where the better water comes from.”
“We’ll go west.” Wolfbane trotted off with dragging hooves, his thick tail clamped against his wasting body. His head bobbed as he shortened the stride of his near fore to protect his wounded shoulder.
Tress jogged after him, her head low and toes scuffing the ground. When they next stopped to browse, she sidled up. “Are you sure we’re going the right way?”
He turned his rump towards her. “Your dam must have been sloppy not to teach you any manners, like not questioning a stallion. I thought we’d find a few bachelors to join us for added protection.”
Although Tress could see the sense in more horses to help in their defence, she couldn’t let the insult to Starburst go unchallenged. Taking a deep breath, she braced her legs. “It’s not up to you to say when and where we go. A queen finds good feed and fresh water. You should mind your own manners and consult me.”
Wolfbane lashed out with one hind leg. “You’re not a queen yet, not even a mare. I won’t be consulting an upstart filly.”
Rebuffed, Tress missed the herd back at Flowering Valley. She wished she’d never followed the Oakvale Head of Warriors to find Fleet. Not even the handsome black stallion was worth suffering the cold, hunger, and insults. She hoped they’d encounter a few bachelors soon. Maybe they’d treat her with more respect. Why did Wolfbane want to avoid the Silverlake herd, yet now sought horses to accompany them? Maybe the wolf attack had scared him, despite his success at driving them off. The cold made thinking hard and her stomach complained.
Before her hunger was satisfied, they moved on again.
The further west they travelled, the hillier the country became. The river twisted its way through rocky outcrops interspersed with flats covered in drifts. Their pace slowed as they navigated sharp rocks or made the most of the pasture where the wind had blown away the snow. In the lee of the hills they occasionally found grasses still laden with seeds. Fresh signs of other horses started to appear, yet they saw no-one. With her stomach full, Tress’s mood improved, at the same time as concern arose that they had gone astray in their search for Fleet.
As they grazed their way up a wide valley, the roar of tumbling water increased. Wolfbane, for once in a good mood, strode up to Tress. “This must be White Water Cliffs. See if you can find the clan while I find out who’s taken over from King Thunder.”
Confused at this change of strategy, Tress did as ordered. The chance of asking people for assistance gave a spring to her step. The village would be close to water, so she followed the river to the falls. A cool spray misted her mane and formed droplets on her eyelashes as she headed along the base of the cliffs. Spotting what looked like caves, she went to investigate.
The clatter of her hooves on the loose scree echoed off the limestone walls. A cavern wide enough for several horses loomed above her. About to peer in, she shot backwards, her head raised and eyes blinking, as a bay mare lunged out with bared teeth. “What—?”
“Get away!” The horse snapped at her and struck out with her foreleg. “You don’t belong here.”
Tress pranced in a circle with her head high. Striking a pose with her tail slung over her back didn’t have any effect on the mare’s attitude. She adopted a different stance, lowering her head to appear humble. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Princess Silken Tresses of Flowering Valley, travelling with Wolfbane, Oakvale’s Head of Warriors. We haven’t seen other horses for many moons.”
The mare made no attempt to conduct polite greetings and didn’t budge. “You can keep moving. There’s nothing here for you.”
“Where’s your clan? Can we get something to eat, and perhaps a groom?” Tress was sure that at least the people would extend their hospitality.
A derisive snort came from the bay mare. She pointed with her nose. “Their huts are that way. Help yourself.”
Tress set off in the direction indicated. Saliva burst into her mouth as she spotted the first dwellings. Her nostrils flared as she tested the air for the sweet smell of hay. Instead, a rotten odour forced her to close her mouth, her tongue dry. She slowed to a walk and looked around the cluster of buildings, calling in a low whinny. No-one responded. No women beat corn in pottery bowls. No children played, or brought baskets of nuts from the forest.
The nearer she approached, the greater the stench. She walked up to the communal building and flinched as her eyes adjusted to the gloom. Smashed skulls and broken bones imprinted on her mind. She cantered back to the open grasslands and didn’t stop until she found Wolfbane.
Gasping more from fear than exertion, she pulled up. “All the people are dead! Wolves have eaten them. There’s no-one here except for a cranky old mare guarding a cave.”
Wolfbane pawed at the ground and sniffed the dirt. “No ordinary wolves either. Bloodwolves. We must remain in the open.”
“What about the mare in the cave? Maybe that’s why she’s there, for protection.”
He gazed across to where Tress indicated. “More likely that’s where the hay is stored. I’ll sort her out. Stay with me.”
Tress guided Wolfbane to the large cavern. Even with his aggressive attitude, his strength and growing familiarity gave her comfort. Dropping back as they neared the cliffs, she let him challenge the mare.
The old mare rushed out with her teeth bared, as she had with Tress. Nothing Wolfbane said made any difference. She continued to resist his attempts to enter the cave. He barged her, knocking her to the ground. Pinning her neck with his good front leg, he bit off the tip of her ear. She squealed and thrashed her legs, unable to rise.
Tress had never seen punishment meted out like this. “Stop it! This is her territory. Fight her king if you must, but don’t attack a mare.”
Wolfbane turned his head without removing his weight from the prone horse. “I haven’t found any other horses, let alone a king. That makes this territory mine, and you two are my first mares.”
Tress trembled, confusion blurring her mind. “What about our quest? We can’t stay here.”
“Quest? My only quest was to steal you and find a new territory. Did you really believe we were searching for a stupid colt who allows a man to ride him on a mission to find a unicorn who doesn’t exist? You’re more naïve than I thought.”
Tress backed away from the cave and fidgeted from foot to foot. Her mind reeled with the implications of Wolfbane’s revelation. A desire to race back to Flowering Valley filled her head. Before she could think more about what to do, she became aware of the old mare struggling under Wolfbane’s hooves.
The mare managed to stand, gasping in ragged breaths. “Don’t think…you can take over…that easily. There are many…in the woods…who will challenge you.”
Wolfbane snapped at her neck leaving teeth marks where he tore off her hair. “What’s your name?
Tell me what happened here.”
The mare recovered her breath. She drew herself up, her head high. “I am Precipice. If you want to know more you’ll make me queen.”
Tress didn’t think Precipice looked much like a queen. From her sunken back and distended belly, it was obvious she had borne many foals. Her mane hung lank and her ribs protruded. Her cracked hooves curled at the toes showing it had been a long time since she walked far. “Who became lead mare after Queen Sapphire? We heard she was killed by a wolf in Dark Woods.”
Precipice cocked her head. “Was she? Hardly a surprise. There hasn’t been a true herd since Thunder was murdered. This cavern is mine.”
As Wolfbane made to go inside, the mare blocked him, snapping as hard as he had bitten her. “Mine, I said. Don’t come any closer.”
He didn’t bother to reply with words, rearing and striking out, walking forward on his hind legs. He barged her over with his chest, biting and stamping as she squirmed beneath him. He continued to pound her as he had the wolves. Her squeals turned to groans and her struggles slowed. Blood smeared the ground. With a final shudder she ceased moving, her mashed head oozing gore across the stones.
Wolfbane strode into the cave before returning to Tress. “What little hay is left is stale and musty. We can’t eat that. We’ll leave her body for the forest creatures to clean up.” Without a backward glance, he trotted off to the river.
Anger overcame Tress’s terror. How dare Wolfbane kill a mare! How did he expect to build a herd if that was his attitude? Heat flooded her veins and her breathing quickened. She had no hope of returning to Flowering Valley on her own. Even if she could steal away, she despaired what her future must hold. Her only hope was that another stallion would challenge and beat Wolfbane.
Chapter 10
Away from Shimmering Lake, the winds cut through Fleet’s coat and tangled his mane. He plodded through the slush, the muck dragging the warmth from his body as heavily as the distance from Gem sucked the wellbeing from his heart. Claws of stone pierced the skyline like the troubles needling his thoughts.