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
