round her wrist. Rolf only got to the end of the leash before he was yanked back again.
“Let him go!” Mira admonished him. “What were you thinking? You cannot possibly catch a horse! And what would you do with him if you did catch him? You are crazy!”
Rolf wasn’t listening, though. He was still wild-eyed and hyped up, giving hysterical whimpers and gazing longingly into the trees, even though the horse, having galloped away at lightning speed, was gone from sight.
Mira reeled Rolf back, inching along the length of the leash until she had him in her hands once more.
“Where did he come from?” she asked the dachshund. But she was asking herself more than Rolf. It was not unusual to see horses in the woods, but they were always taken out by riders from the riding school. Horses didn’t turn up in the middle of the forest running wild all on their own!
Rolf, twisting and squirming in Mira’s arms, demanded to be put down and she lowered him back, still keeping a tight hold on the leash.
The little dog shook himself with indignation and then he dropped his head to the ground and began to sniff in earnest.
“Rolf,” Mira cautioned him. “No. Leave it. We need to go home.” She knew what he was doing. Dachshunds like Rolf were renowned for their skill as tracking dogs. Mira had read in a book once that an olfactory trail could be left to go stale for as much as a month and a dachshund would still be able to nose out a scent that was strong enough to hunt by. To Rolf, the smell of the white stallion was fresh in his nostrils and it was irresistible.
“Rolf, ugh … no. This way! The bus stop is this way …”
Mira tried to distract him from the scent trail and turn for home. But Rolf took to whining piteously and refusing to budge, and whenever she tried to pick him up to carry him he darted between her legs.
“Rolf!”
Mira sighed. “You’re so stubborn,” she told him. And then she smiled to herself, because it was something her mother often said to her as well. They were alike, she and Rolf. And, right now, it seemed they both wanted the same thing. Because the truth was, Mira wanted to find the horse too.
“You think you could do it?” she asked the little dog. It seemed unlikely in a forest this size and yet Rolf seemed so set on it, so determined to give chase.
“OK, then, habibi, darling one. You can do it. Go. Find him.”
Mira kept the leash round her wrist and held on tight. Rolf took up the trail with a yelp and was once again on the hunt, and this time Mira did not resist. This time he was taking her with him.
Rolf was so intent and focused as he sniffed it was as if he held the whole universe right there in the tip of his nose. The scent trail of the horse was so strong to him that the path ahead might as well have been illuminated with fairy lights.
Mira felt his certainty as she was dragged down steep slopes where the leaves had fallen so thick that she was buried to her knees. She slid down, over mossy logs and rotting tree trunks, then found herself clambering and crawling back up again. They were deeper into the heart of the forest now and had left behind the broad, sandy avenues where they usually walked.
We should go back. We’ll get lost and no one will ever find us … Mira was thinking this when Rolf stopped in his tracks, and the leash in her hand went slack.
They were here.
They were standing on the ridge of a hill looking down through the trees to a clearing below. To the right was the pitched shingle roof of a small house, with what looked like a barn attached to it. In front of the buildings, two large yards for exercising horses, with a sandy loam surface, were enclosed by posts and rails.
Rolf cocked his head and let out a whimper as the doors to the stables opened. From inside Mira could hear the echo of horses’ hooves on the cobblestones, then a loud blowing snort and a moment later the grey stallion appeared through the doorway. He came out and as soon as his hooves touched the sand he broke into a high-stepping trot, his strides so elevated and bouncy it was almost as if he floated above the ground. He carried himself in a taut composition of muscle and sinew, his neck arched and his eyes on the woods beyond, his tail held erect so that the silken plumes of it trailed out behind him like gossamer as he circled the yard. He swept along right beside the rails as if he were looking for an escape route, and Mira noticed as he did this that the fence round the yard had been altered. The whole yard had been painted with dark brown fence stain, but there was a newly added unpainted rail that had been roughly hammered on at the top of the fence, which added another half a metre at least to the height of the barrier.
The stallion did two laps of the enclosure, and then, with a sudden prop, he slammed on his brakes, making the sand come flying up from beneath his hooves. He came to a dead stop, pivoted on his hocks so that now he was facing the opposite direction, and broke into a gallop. As he raced across the yard making for the rails, Mira really thought he was going to jump. She was reminded of the effortless way he’d popped in a single stride to vault the fence in the forest. But this fence now was almost twice that size. Mira watched as the stallion came up on to his haunches and then, reconsidering, he dropped down again with a jolt and drove his front legs deep into the sand to stop himself, ploughing a channel as he skidded and crashed into the rails, pivoting on his hocks to turn, bouncing away in frustration, then circling round the fence, snaking his neck and tossing his mane in consternation.
Then he halted, sides heaving like bellows, and looked up at the ridge where Mira and Rolf were watching. His ears pricked forward. He’d seen them! From the yard, he raised his elegant head and gave a clarion call, whinnying out to them.
Mira hesitated for a moment and then she gave the leash a yank. “Come on,” she said to Rolf. “We’re going down there.”
They scrambled down the bank together, a tangle of limbs and dog leash, until they reached the bottom, both of them panting, with hearts pounding. Mira picked Rolf up and felt his little feet waggling in mid-air as he tried to jump down again. She didn’t want him to scare the horse, so it was better perhaps if she went alone from here. She took Rolf’s leash and tied the dachshund to the fence. The stallion was standing perfectly still watching them, his dark eyes wide and calm.
Rolf growled a little, as if he were cautioning Mira when she stepped away from him and circled the fence to move closer to the horse.
She climbed up the rails and the horse stepped closer to her. Then he craned his elegant neck so that his muzzle was only a metre or two away from Mira’s face. She reached an arm out to him. The horse didn’t shy away from her, but stepped in again, stretching his muzzle to her hand. Mira wished she had a treat to offer him instead of her empty palm.
The horse stepped closer again and now he was standing almost side-on to her. All she needed to do to get on to his back at that moment was to stand up on the fence rail and turn sideways a little and make the leap. If she did so, she would find herself sitting on the horse’s back!
Behind her, she could hear Rolf give a low warning growl, but she didn’t turn to see what the dachshund was grumbling about. Her total focus was locked on the horse that stood there in front of her. She stood up, wobbling a little as she found her balance, perched
