Winter of the Crystal Dances

by Angela Dorsey

  Chapter 15

  The last days of winter passed in a blur. There was so much to do. I spent a lot of time at my desk getting ahead on my homework so I could have some freedom come spring. The only other things I did were ride Rusty and spend time with Twilight: treating her wound, training her, brushing her, petting her, trying desperately to get her to like me. I kept an eye out for the wolves too, but there was no further sign of them. I hoped that meant they’d found food – food that wasn’t horsemeat!

  Twilight’s physical condition kept getting better and better and soon she was putting weight on her leg. Then she started using it when she walked. She limped at first, but with every passing day she used it a bit more and the limp lessened. It was like her body was on overdrive to fix her leg. She certainly had access to a lot of nutrients as she healed up. She ate… well, like a horse.

  Mom was worried. Every time she came down to the barn she asked how many bales were left and, every once in a while, how many bags of grain. Twilight was little so she didn’t eat massive amounts of hay, though she still ate more than I would’ve guessed. However, she’d totally learned to love oats. She’d neigh along with the other horses when she heard the first grains rattle into the buckets and then pace until I got her bucket to her stall. It was the only time she was happy to see me. As a result, I gave her more than I should, and we were running out way too fast.

  I started rationing poor Rusty and Cocoa, which Rusty thought was highly unfair and he told me so every day. I tried to make it up to him by grooming him twice a day instead of just in the morning and that helped a bit. At least he knew I still loved him. It was necessity that was making me cut back, not because Twilight was my favorite.

  Twilight, on the other hand, still couldn’t stand me. She stood to be groomed because I insisted and she loved the feel of it, but our training sessions were complete battles. Though she was losing the war, she never gave in. She continued to despise me, thinking her captivity was my fault. Apparently, having a wolf try to eat her was part of my master plan to trap her. She daydreamed about running away and reuniting with her herd, over and over, like a broken record.

  However, as time went on, she came to like Rusty and Cocoa, even missing them during the day when they were in the pasture. She learned to like Socrates and Plato, the barn cats. The hardest time was the day I realized she liked Loonie more than she liked me. Dogs are so much like wolves – they’re even a related species – and yet Twilight would rather see Loonie trotting toward her stall than me, even when I was carrying oats.

  One day, in an effort to win her over, I decided to take her out of the barn. She still wasn’t leading very well, but she was getting better, following me grudgingly up and down the barn aisle when the doors were closed. She hadn’t put up a serious struggle for a week now and I figured she needed a reward for her relatively good behavior.

  First, I pulled back the big doors opening to the yard, making the way clear to lead her out, then entered her stall and haltered her. She was already excited and refused to stand still to be groomed. I should have taken the hint and kept her in, but it was a beautiful sunny day and I really wanted her to start associating me with good things – so I opened the stall door and led her out.

  Halfway out the stall door, she jumped forward and bolted for the big doors. Automatically, I braced myself against her lead rope and she came swinging around to face me – which I quickly realized was the worst possible thing. Now she thought she had to fight me to escape. She reared up in the air and slashed out with her front hooves. I couldn’t do anything but jump back. But there was no way I was going to let go of that rope!

  She tried to run again and I pulled her around. This time, her desperation was clear as she fought me. For the first time, I saw doubt in her eyes – which only made her fight harder, move quicker. She lunged at me, trying to bite, and I jumped back again, into her stall this time. Again, she ran and I stopped her. This time it was easier, because I could use the inside wall of her stall for leverage.

  She reared up, wild with the desire to be free, and cried out like a lost soul. Shivers coursed along my back and Rusty answered her. I could hear his hoofbeats thudding as he raced to his stall door and found it shut.

  What’s happening? Rusty asked me. What’s wrong!

  She wants to run away.

  She’s not ready.

  I won’t let her go.

  Not yet, said Rusty.

  Not ever.

  Not yet. So firm. So sure of himself.

  Not ever, I replied, just as firmly.

  Completely oblivious to our conversation, Twilight continued to fight the rope like the wild thing she was, pulling back with every frantic muscle, her shoulders and flanks already flecked with sweat. Air whistled through her nostrils.

  Just as she went up on her hind legs again, I threw myself back against the rope, pulling her forward – and when she came down her head was through her stall door. She looked around, wide-eyed with surprise that she was back inside her stall, then screamed, reared, slashed out.

  Her front hoof struck my shoulder and agony shot through my body. I would have dropped the rope, except that the pain made me a thousand times more determined that she wasn’t going to escape, and I mustered every shred of will power, strength, and resolve I had left to pull her forward once again as she descended.

  She froze when all four feet touched the ground, as if not believing she was actually back where she’d started – inside her stall. Taking the opportunity, I darted around her and slammed her door shut.

  Anger, betrayal, sadness, and disappointment tumbled through my heart like an acrobat as I listened to Twilight rip around her stall. Her desperation, the frantic sounds, the dying hope, they all made me feel sick to my stomach. I hurried down the barn aisle, my hand on my injured shoulder. The throbbing pain kept trying to interrupt my thoughts, so I gratefully allowed the hurt to fill my mind. I stopped outside the barn. Behind me, Twilight still raced around her stall, heedless of her injury.

  I knew that eventually I had to go back in there. She still had her halter and lead rope on. But for now, all I could do was stare up at the blue sky and try not to cry. Patience, patience, I chanted to myself. I have to have patience. Twilight will come around in time. Lots of people caught the wild horses and trained them until they became good saddle horses. My filly might be a little more stubborn than most, but she’d eventually adjust. I had to control my negative thoughts and give her time.

  She was slowing, so I forced myself to walk back to her stall. She stopped to glare at me with hate filled eyes. I felt like an ogre, the way she looked at me.

  My gaze shifted downward to her wound. It didn’t need a bandage anymore, though I still cleaned it twice daily, soaking it and putting salve on it. It looked the same. She hadn’t damaged her leg any more, at least.

  Breathing deeply, I leaned on the stall door. What could I do to get through to her? “You’re my girl, Twilight,” I murmured to her. “You just don’t know it yet.”

  After giving her more time to calm down, I’d go back inside her stall with some oats and brushes. Then I’d take her halter off and skip the training session for the day. Tomorrow I’d open the doors again, but keep the filly in her stall. And the day after that too. Then, when she could take that much without getting too excited, I’d open one door so light could come in, but block it somehow – maybe with the wheelbarrow – and lead her up and down the barn aisle. Then, without the wheelbarrow in the way. Then with two doors open.

  Step by step, that’s how we’d do this. Within weeks, I’d be able to lead her outside. Then soon I’d be ponying her alongside Rusty, building up her strength and stamina.

  And she would learn to like me… no, she’d learn to love me, just like Rusty. By the time I was through with her, she’d be a domestic horse in both heart and mind, hardly remembering her old ways. I just had to have patience, that’s all.