by Lynn Mann
I cursed as I fought my way through dense undergrowth, but I felt my excitement rising as I spotted a plant that I hadn’t seen before. I felt slightly guilty as I trampled the plants around the one that had captured my interest, then spread my cloak, waxed side down and knelt on it, ready to tune in to the new herb.
I cleared my mind and allowed my senses and then my awareness to penetrate the tiny-leafed plant. I easily sensed its vibration and was just considering on which ailment to test it first, when I felt something else. Something was pulling my mind away from the herb and in a different direction entirely. Strange. I tried to pull my awareness back to myself with the intent of redirecting it wholly back to the herb, but found that I couldn’t, completely. Whatever had caught at me had no intention of letting go. I relaxed my attention from the herb. Immediately, my mind was pulled so strongly that I felt it was being pulled loose from my body. I was so shocked that I rolled off my heels and sat down firmly on my bottom, trembling.
It was as I tried in vain to get control over my mind, to pull it all back to join the part of it that was anchored in my body, that I registered the gentle warmth, the love, peace and wisdom that was my mare. The sense of her that had always been at the edge of my mind, untouchable, unreachable, but always there, was now in my mind with me. She filled all my senses as she touched, no, melded my mind with hers and pulled it towards herself.
A vague part of me registered that I was being tugged; my mare was calling for me as I had waited so long for her to do! I stood up and began to run to catch up with my mind as I felt it stretch out, ever thinner, between my body and hers. The undergrowth snagged at me, but I paid it no heed and blundered on until eventually I emerged from it into the more densely growing trees. Here, there was less undergrowth and my path was easier. I ran for all I was worth.
It was a strange sensation, to be running full pelt through the woodland with only a tiny part of my mind belonging to my body and registering what was happening. The rest of my mind was with her. Nothing had any relevance in my life any more except finding her. I ran until my lungs heaved and I had to lean on a tree to regain my breath. Then I was off again, running towards her, running, running, running.
At some point, the tiny part of my mind that still looked after my body realised that it was getting dark and that hunger pains gnawed at my stomach. I was exhausted, but still I wanted to carry on; my body could recover once I had found her. Everything would be alright once I had found her. By now I had reached open countryside and the moon was bright in the night sky. I continued, but slowed to a walk as my body began to protest more strongly. At some point I must have dropped down, exhausted, and fallen asleep.
I woke up the following day with the sun high in the sky. I was as cold and damp as the scrub in which I was lying and I cursed myself for sleeping so long. I had no idea where I was and I didn’t care. Within minutes I was up and running again, following my mind to my horse. Every now and then I thought I felt her pushing at me slightly and my mind seemed to contract as it bounced back to me. But I flung myself straight back to her and forced my body to try to keep up.
I was vaguely aware that my body was now extremely hungry and thirsty. I was stumbling a lot and twice I fell headlong, landing once on my hands and knees and once on my chin. The blood from my chin dribbled down my neck and dried to a crust, but still I pushed my body to carry on. At one point, I reached a stream and fell down on my knees to drink until my thirst was slaked. Then I carried on.
As luck would have it, I collapsed next to some brambles that night and ate my fill of their ripe, bursting berries, my mind still full of my horse. I could feel that she, too, crossed open country and for the first time in her life, she was alone. She missed her mother and her herd, but she was intent on finding me. Her body wasn’t hungry or thirsty and I immersed myself even more fully in her, as I tried harder and harder to ignore the protests of my own body. She was concerned about something and again, I thought I felt her push at my mind. I fell asleep and dreamt of her resting peacefully under some trees.
I don’t remember much about the next few days, apart from feeling an urge to run, but being mostly reduced to a stumbling walk. I must have come across more streams from time to time, as I remember drinking. I pulled fruit from trees and ate as I lurched my way towards where I knew my mare was, but it wasn’t enough. As the sun made its way down behind the hills in front of me one evening, my legs gave in. I landed in a heap in some long, reedy grass and was unable to make my body get back up. My head was spinning and my vision kept coming in and out of focus. My hunger pains were intolerable, my chin throbbed and the skin on my knees and on the palms of my hands was shredded. And still I was desperate to continue.
I had felt my mare’s concern increase over the past few days and she had kept pushing at me with what felt like increasing determination, which I found hurtful and confusing. I was sure that if I could just reach her, everything would be explained and it would be alright. At the present moment she was frantic. What was wrong? Was she ill? Was she lost? No, she couldn’t be lost, she just had to keep heading towards me. What could it be? I howled and cried with worry and frustration. This wasn’t anything like how I had imagined going to find my horse. I must have passed out.
My next memory was of waking and being aware how cold I was. I couldn’t feel my arms and legs and when I tried to lick my lips, they cracked. Immediately in front of my eyes there were long stalks of grass and… legs. Six of them. How strange. Did I know of any six-legged animals? No, I didn’t think so. Two of the legs wore black leather boots with buckles at the ankle and four of them were black and hairy. I came to a little more. My mare. I had to get to my mare. I tried to move my mouth to tell the legs how important it was that I get up and start walking again, but nothing came out. Just as I was losing consciousness again, I felt arms underneath my body and then I was lifted, carried and put down heavily on my front, across something warm and hairy. I sank down into the warmth, my arms and legs dangling, and let the blackness take me.
The next time I regained consciousness, I was still draped across the back of what I decided had to be an animal. I had black hair brushing against my mouth and I could see a black, hairy belly hanging down in front of my eyes and my feet were on the other side of it. We were moving, I decided, as my hanging arms and legs swayed from side to side. Something warm and heavy covered my back. Most of my mind was now anchored back in my body and it felt as if my mare were leaning against it somehow, holding it there. She felt calmer now but her concern remained. I was being carried towards her and I was warm. As that thought took hold and comforted me, I once again let go of conscious thought and sank into oblivion.
Some time later, I found that I was stationary and lying on my back. My vision wouldn’t focus properly but I thought I could make out branches above my head and I definitely smelt the moist, earthy smell of the forest, combined with the smell of smoke from a fire that crackled near my feet. Someone cupped my head in a hand and lifted it, and warm soup touched my lips. I opened my mouth and savoured the taste of onion soup.
‘That’s it, slowly,’ a female voice said kindly. ‘You don’t want to burn your mouth, you’re in enough of a state as it is.’
I sipped slowly, although my every fibre wanted to gulp it down. Once I had finished, my head was gently lowered back down to the ground and I slept once more. I dreamt of my piebald mare cantering along the side of a grassy hill in the moonlight. Her long, white, wavy mane lifted and dropped as she flew gracefully through the night, and every hair on her body reflected the silvery light of the moon. She was calm, focused and very determined.
I stirred as one particular member of the dawn chorus, a crow I think, cawed from the branches above my head. As I drifted back to sleep, I dreamt that my mare was drinking thirstily from a fast-flowing, shallow river. She was aware of me and lifted her head, ears pricked as water dripped from her muzzle. I reached towards her with all of my being, but she blocked me and pu
shed me back, allowing only the smallest thread of my mind to stay with her. Hurt and confused, I nevertheless relished my contact with her. I felt as if everything would always be alright if I were with her. I needed to be with her, that was it, I needed to travel to where she was, without delay. I came awake with a start and sat up, feeling dizzy.
‘Want some more soup?’
I looked up and my eyes almost focused on a figure sitting across the fire from me. She was stirring a pot of what smelt like the same soup that I had been fed the day before.
‘Yes please. Thank you for helping me. More soup and then I have to go and find my horse, I’m being tugged,’ I said.
‘First things first, get some of this down you.’ She handed me a bowl of steaming soup. I tried to look up at her to smile my thanks, but found that all of my effort was needed to take the bowl and spoon from her. I recognised her black boots with the buckles at the ankles and my mind returned to the day before.
‘There were six legs,’ I said, ‘and only two of them were yours. Who do the other four legs belong to?’
‘They belong to Oak. And magnificent legs they are too, don’t you think?’
I nodded dimly, not really taking in what she had said. I decided to concentrate on getting each spoonful of soup to my mouth without spilling any. After I had finished the last spoonful, a hand with some bread appeared in front of me. I took the bread and began to eat, wondering if I was really awake and eating, or whether I had passed out again. It wasn’t long before I found out, as I was briefly aware of the bread falling from my hand before I fell out of the conscious world yet again.
I don’t know how long I was left to sleep before I was gently shaken awake.
‘Do you think you could sit up and ride in front of me if I hold you?’ asked my rescuer.
‘Ride? Um, I can try,’ I said, fighting to keep my eyes open as they tried to close.
‘Oak will lie down to make it easier for you to get on his back.’ Hands appeared under my arms and heaved me up onto my feet. ‘Right, step astride him and then sit down slowly and gently onto his back. That’s it, now Oak is going to stand up. Hold onto his mane and lean forward, I’ve got you.’ One arm appeared around my waist and held on tightly and another reached past me and held on to a chunk of mane. There was a lurching sensation. ‘Well done Oak, thanks mate. Are you ready?’ she said into my left ear.
How long we rode I have no idea, I just focused on trying to stay upright and awake whilst sensing what my mare was doing. She had lain down to rest for a while and had then spent some considerable time grazing. Now she was on the move again at a steady trot along a muddy track. The same calm determination drove her onwards and the comfort I felt at knowing that we steadily approached one another was immeasurable.
We stopped for lunch at the edge of a stream and I was helped down from Oak’s back to sit at the water’s edge. I leant forward and cupped water in my hands, splashing it onto my face and rubbing it into my eyes in an effort to fully open them. The palms of my hands felt as if they were on fire and I was shocked at the sight of the red water that ran back to the stream.
‘It’s just from your hands and your chin, nothing serious,’ I was informed. ‘I bet it hurts like mad though, you’ll have to wait until we get to Coolridge to get cleaned up properly.’
Some bread and a large chunk of cheese appeared in front of me. ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘Where’s Coolridge?’
‘About five miles north from here. We’ll be there later today. Oak is having to go more slowly than usual with two of us to carry.’
Once I’d eaten, I was again hauled to my feet and led to where Oak lay down to enable me to mount. As he lurched once more to his feet with me on board, I had my first proper look at my rescuer as she held firm to my leg to support me. Taller than I, she was dressed all in black, complete with a hooded black cloak. She had her hood up but I caught sight of black hair around her pale face, before she swung herself up behind me.
I was lulled into a doze by Oak’s movement and the warmth emanating from his broad back beneath me. My mare also rested, although not as peacefully as did I. She felt vulnerable and came to full alert at every sound, and I worried for her. Once more, I tried to reach to her with more of myself and once more I was pushed back.
I was prodded to wakefulness by a finger in the ribs. ‘Wake up now, we’re here,’ said my rescuer, and she disappeared from behind me. I was helped down from Oak’s back and managed to land on my feet. I put my hand to his side.
‘Thank you, Oak.’ I rubbed my hand over his fur and put my heart into my words. ‘Thank you.’
‘He says you and your horse are very welcome and he hopes you find a way to control your mind. Your horse has been struggling to keep you in one piece,’ the woman said from behind me.
Shocked, I spun around to face her and then staggered back to lean against the ever tolerant Oak. ‘W-what? What does Oak know about my horse?’
‘He knows that she’s okay, she’s on her way to find you and is taking good care of herself. Unlike you. She felt you lose your mind soon after she tugged you and she’s been frantic. She asked Oak to help you as she was still some distance away and Oak was the closest bonded horse. He told me we were needed, so we came to find you. The rest, I’m hoping you’ll tell me once you’ve had a decent meal and a good night’s sleep.’
With a snap, my world came back into focus. ‘You’re Horse-Bonded and Oak is your horse,’ I said solemnly.
The black eyes in the pale face smiled along with her mouth. ‘Thanks for telling me, I’d never have known. Welcome back to the land of the living, I’m Rowena.’
Six
Meetings
Rowena left Oak standing in the road and helped me through a wooden front gate and up a neatly cobbled path to a stone cottage, very similar to those of my own village.
As we approached the front door, it was flung open and an elderly man beckoned us in to a small living room. On one of the walls there was a mural, depicting a man of middle years sitting down in a summer meadow with his legs crossed out in front of him. He leaned back against the brown and white horse who lay down behind him. The mural was so infused with emotion that I could feel the depth of feeling that existed between its subjects as if I were one of them.
‘Come in, come in,’ said the man. ‘Rowena sit her down over there by the fire, that’s it, you rest there my dear while I prepare a nice hot bath for you and then you can get yourself cleaned up.’
The man left the room and Rowena went back out to Oak, telling me over her shoulder that she would see him to his paddock and then be back.
I relaxed into my chair and for the first time registered my appearance. I was mortified. My leggings had large holes at both knees, and they were covered in slits and pulls, almost to the point of indecency. My pullover was likewise hanging on me in shreds and was filthy. A wide streak of dried brown blood ran down the centre, presumably having originated from my chin. I still had both boots on, which I considered a miracle, but there were deep gashes in the leather through which the wool lining was hanging. My hands had brown dirt ingrained into them and the palms were covered in lacerations which were trying to heal, and were at present expelling a nasty-smelling pus. It dawned on me that that was likely not the only part of me that smelt; after days of running, sleeping rough and not washing, I must really pong. My embarrassment grew. What had I been thinking? My horse. I had been trying to get to my horse.
I knew that she was getting closer all the time and I felt her weariness. I didn’t try to push myself towards her again as I knew she’d push me back, but as I sat and thought of her and sensed how she felt, I realised I didn’t need to push towards her anyway; the edge of my mind now seemed to be melded with hers and I could know everything I needed to just from being aware of that part of our minds that we shared.
The man re-entered the room and handed me a towel. ‘Right my dear, up you get, there’s a nice hot bath waiting for you upstairs and I
’ve a stew on that should be ready by the time you’ve finished. I’m Adam by the way.’
I got to my feet, holding the towel in front of me in an attempt to preserve my modesty. I shook his gnarled hand gingerly, trying to keep my palm cupped so I wouldn’t have to press my sore palm against his. ‘Thank you, you’re really kind,’ I said. ‘I’m Amarilla and I’m on my way to find my horse.’
‘I know you are and it sounds as if you got yourself in a bit of a pickle, but never mind that now, you go and get cleaned up and then I’ll get Ro to bring you up some of my special stew before you get your head down. Have a good night’s rest and then you can tell us all about it in the morning. Come with me, just this way.’
He led me along a short, narrow hallway to some stairs and I could smell what had to be his special stew. My stomach gurgled noisily.
‘Up the stairs there, first door on the left. That’s it, up you go,’ he said and went into the kitchen.
The bath was indeed hot and all my cuts and bruises announced themselves painfully anew as I lowered myself into the water. When I had finally managed to sink down into the warmth, I set about cleaning off days of accumulated grime. The water was brown by the time I had finished and the thought of donning my rags was repulsive to me now that I was clean. I didn’t have the courage to call down to Adam or Rowena to ask them to provide me with any clean clothes, so I sat down on the bathroom floor, wrapped in my towel and leaned back against the bath.
The next thing I knew, Rowena was kneeling beside me. ‘Come on sleepy,’ she said, ‘come and have something to eat and then you can sleep as long as you need to. Up you get.’ She offered a hand and hauled me to my feet.
‘I don’t have any clothes, I’m really sorry, you came and found me and looked after me and you’re forever having to lift me up because I’m always asleep, and now I don’t have any clothes,’ I told her in a shaky voice and then dissolved into tears.
