Mystic and Blaze

It wasn’t until Issie had reached the far end of the paddock that she was finally able to slow the mare down a little, first to a canter, then a trot and finally a gentle jog. Even though her sides were heaving from the run, Issie had to keep a tight hold on her horse to stop her from bolting off again.

“Steady, girl, good girl, Blaze,” she breathed, her arms trembling from the effort of hanging on to the reins. Her heart was beating like a drum in her ears.

“That was amazing!” Kate yelled out as she rode towards her. “I’ve never seen a horse run like that. Toby’s an ex-racehorse and Blaze even gave him a run for his money.”

“Good on you for staying on her back at that speed!” Stella was obviously impressed. Issie, however, was less pleased.

“This is the second time she’s got away on me.” Issie was shaking. “I just can’t control her. It’s like she goes crazy the minute I get on her back.”

Issie had been expecting sympathy from her friends, so she was shocked when Stella barked at her instead, “You’re being silly, Issie! Everyone knows you’re a natural rider. That’s why Avery chose you to take Blaze on. OK, so she’s being difficult. I’m sure all she needs to sort her out is a little bit of proper schooling. Talk to Tom. After all, he gave her to you. So why don’t you ask him for a little help?”

Stella was right, of course. Issie had been trying to struggle on alone. What she really needed was some advice. “I’ll ask Tom if he’ll meet me at the paddock one day next week when the holidays have started to give me a hand.” Issie nodded. “He’ll know what to do.”

Still, deep-down she doubted that anyone could really help her ride this spirited mare. Was Blaze too much horse for her to handle?

In the darkness of her bedroom that night, Issie had the dream again. It always began in the same way. The rhythmic sound of hoofbeats seemed to thunder out from the blackness and then the horse appeared like a silver mist in the gloom. As he came closer Issie could make out the misty outline of his body, the proud arch of his neck crested with a thick mane, and the long sweep of his elegant silver tail which trailed almost to the ground. The horse gave a soft nicker and came closer. He was just a few metres away now and Issie could see him clearly at last. It was Mystic. His dark-rimmed eyes looked at Issie intently and he was still for a moment. Then he pawed the ground and gave an agitated shake of his mane, before breaking into a high-stepping trot and heading straight for her.

Mystic came to an abrupt stop right in front of Issie. She reached out a hand to touch him, but before she could get near enough Mystic went up, rearing on his hind legs so that his front hooves thrashed the air above her. At the same time he let out a terrible long, low squeal – the noise a stallion might make if he was rounding up his herd against danger. It was a sound so deep and piercing that it woke Issie up with a start. She sat bolt upright in bed, her heart racing, her pyjamas damp with sweat.

Even now, wide awake, she could still hear Mystic’s shrill squeal ringing in her ears. And then she heard something else. Not a squeal, but the drumming of hoofbeats. It sounded to Issie as if the noise were coming from just outside her bedroom window. Without hesitating she leapt up and raced to pull back the curtains, squinting out into the darkness.

She stood quietly at the window and held her breath as she tried hard to listen again. Nothing. The night air was completely still. Her eyes had adjusted now and she could see that the back yard was empty. Reluctantly, Issie let the curtain drop from her hand, moved away from the window and slipped back under the covers and into bed. It was all a dream, she told herself. But as she drifted back off to sleep she could have sworn she still heard the sound of hoofbeats somewhere out there in the darkness.

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