by P. C. Cast
Do we jump the deep ditch or go into it and climb out of it?
“I’m pretty sure they want us to do it the most difficult way, which would not be jumping it.” River snorted, sounding like Anjo. “Do they really think you’re going to balk at that patch of muddy water over there?”
I will not, but many mares would not walk into it. Could be snakes.
“Not on this course there won’t be. Trust me.”
Always.
“Then let’s do this, and do it fast and clean.”
Anjo’s answer was to sprint into the obstacle course. The jumps were first—and she sailed over them easily, even the double log jump that was uncomfortably close together. Then she went over the tottering plank with her head lowered as she watched her footing. Without pausing River guided Anjo down into a deep, narrow ditch, and then up the backside of it. She balked at nothing—not even the muddy puddles or skeletal hanging branches meant to spook her. She picked her way through a series of logs that had been arranged against larger logs so that they were partially off the ground, partially grounded, in a crisscross pattern, making it impossible to jump them. The final obstacle was a jump that had a water-filled ditch on the far side of it. Anjo sailed over both easily.
At the end of the course River glanced back at the Councilmember, who nodded and signaled that she’d completed everything.
“Okay, let’s catch those other two teams!” Anjo sprinted away.
The land kept lifting up and up, and Anjo attacked the ground, digging in and using her well-conditioned muscles to carry them forward with speed even Ghost would have envied.
They reached the top of the hill and looked down.
“I can see the finish flags!” River’s voice trembled with excitement. “There, in the distance! I can just make them out.” And then she glanced down to see the final obstacles before the sprint. The backside of the hill wasn’t dangerously steep, but it was covered with rocks—large and small—which made it deadly if a horse attempted to run down it.
And there, halfway to the bottom, were Skye and Scout. Farther ahead, though not much, were Alani and Doe, but Alani had dismounted and was checking her mare’s hoof.
Hold on. I’m going down this slope. Fast.
“Not too fast. Those rocks will bruise your hooves—they can even make you lame.”
You know I am good at this. We have practiced.
River did as her mare said—she held on. Anjo was right. This was one of the obstacles they had prepared for, and it was also something her mare strangely enjoyed. Anjo liked picking her way down a rocky ridge. She’d told River once that it helped keep her mind sharp.
The mare attacked the rocky decline, moving nimbly around boulders, stepping lightly and carefully, and keeping her head low so that she could see her path. River had been concentrating so hard on the rocks that she didn’t even notice that she and Anjo had pulled up beside Skye and Scout until the dapple gray mare squealed and kicked at Anjo.
Quick as a snake, Anjo struck out, biting Scout on her rump and causing the other mare to jump sideways and grunt in pain.
“Hey, get her off Scout!” Skye shouted.
“You know better than that,” River said as she and Anjo passed the slower team. “A Lead Mare always disciplines the Herd—and Scout just got disciplined!”
They beat Skye and Scout to the bottom of the rocky ridge as Alani remounted Doe and galloped toward the final obstacle. A hundred yards or so from the bottom of the ridge the land opened again. This time it was a true gorge, with sides too impossibly steep to scale up or down.
“We have to jump the gorge,” River said, suddenly feeling her heart lodge in her throat. “They’ve marked three crossing places.” River used her hand to shade her eyes against the glare of the setting sun. “The closest is also the widest. Then a few hundred yards that way they’ve marked another, narrower crossing.” River pointed to the left, where the gorge wrapped around, taking an opposite turn from the direction of the finish line. “And even farther that way I can see a third crossing. Look there—Alani is guiding Doe to the left. She’s not going to attempt the widest jump.”
I can make the widest jump.
River didn’t question her mare. She felt Anjo’s confidence and she trusted her completely.
“Then let’s jump over it and beat Alani and Doe to the finish line!”
Anjo kicked into a canter and then lengthened her stride to a gallop. River leaned forward, gripping Anjo’s sweaty sides and holding tightly to her mane as she readied herself to throw her heart over the gorge along with her mare.
They were just yards from the jump when Skye and Scout blew past them at a flat run, heading directly for the widest crossing point.
River knew what was going to happen before Scout balked. She saw the signs. Scout wasn’t gathering herself. Her ears weren’t pricked at the jump. And the mare looked spent, with white flecks of sweaty foam spraying from her shoulders and flanks. At the last moment Scout refused the jump, planting her hooves and digging into the earth.
With a sick stomach, River watched Skye fly over Scout’s head and tumble over the edge of the gorge.
“Whoa! Whoa! Anjo!”
Anjo slid to a stop just feet from the yawning slash in the earth. River was off her back in an instant, sprinting to the edge.
“Skye!” River shouted as she ran.
Scout had been standing near the edge, legs splayed and head down, breathing in great gasps, but as River called for Skye the mare came back to herself. She lifted her head and, with the whites of her eyes showing, began neighing hysterically for her Rider.
River ran past the agitated mare, sliding to her stomach so she could peer over the lip of the gorge.
Skye was there! About five feet from the edge she’d managed to tangle her arms in a clump of vines and dig her toes into a small ledge. River could see that one of her arms was sticking out at an odd angle.
“Skye!”
She looked up—her eyes wide with terror. “River! Thank the Mare! Help me! My shoulder is dislocated and I’m barely hanging on!”
“Don’t move! I’ll get rope from my saddlebag.”
But before River could scramble backwards and race for Anjo, Scout panicked. The mare ran to the edge of the gorge, whinnying pathetically.
River was turning to look up at Scout—to try to calm her—when the mare finally caught sight of her Rider and lunged to the side, stomping on River’s right foot.
River screamed in agony and rolled to the side to avoid the mare’s dangerous hooves.
“Scout! It’s okay! I’m right here!” Skye tried to reassure Scout, but the mare was fully hysterical.
And then Anjo was there—standing between Scout and River. Anjo herded the agitated mare backwards, all the while nickering softly to her.
River got to her feet and limped over to Anjo. “Keep Scout back.” She opened a saddlebag and pulled out her rope. “I’m going to drop this down to Skye and then we’ll pull her up.”
Your foot! You are in a lot of pain!
“I know, but Skye can’t hold on much longer. Anjo, she can’t survive that fall.”
Save her. I will keep Scout as calm as possible.
Gritting her teeth against the pain, River hobbled back to the edge of the gorge. She shook out the loop in the hemp lasso and dropped to her belly again.
“Skye, you’re going to have to put this rope around you, and then Anjo and I will pull you up.”
Skye looked at her. Tears were streaming down her dirty, bruised cheeks. “I—I don’t think I can. Only one of my arms works. If I let go I’m going to fall.”
Thinking quickly, River said. “Okay, here’s what you do—step into the loop. One foot at a time. Then shimmy it up around your waist. Can you do that?”
“I’ll try.”
“Good.” River ignored the pulsing heat in her ankle, and spoke calm encouragement to Skye. “That’s it. You’ve got it over one foot. You’re doing great.”
A gentle whinny came from beside River and Skye looked up, her eyes welling with tears again. “Scout! Oh honey! I’m so, so sorry I didn’t listen to you when you said you were afraid to make the jump.”
Anjo stepped between Scout and River, making sure the distressed mare didn’t stomp on her Rider again.
Scout is better when she can see Skye. I will keep you safe from her hooves.
“Okay, it’s around my waist,” Skye said.
“Hang on. Just a few minutes more and we’ll have you out of there.” River managed to stand again, though she had to hop around, holding her injured foot off the ground. “Anjo, I’m going to wrap this rope around your butt. I’ll anchor the end, and when I say go, start backing up—slowly.”
River limped to Anjo, positioning the rope around her mare’s hind end, then she moved to the side of the mare, finding a chair-sized rock. She wrapped the end of the rope low around the rock as an anchor.
“Okay, back, Anjo—back!”
Slowly the powerful mare dug her hooves in and backed, little by little pulling Skye up over the lip of the gorge, where she collapsed, sobbing in pain. Scout was there, nuzzling her Rider and nickering incessantly.
River hopped over to her, meaning to help her unwrap the rope from her waist and then tie her arm into a sling, but Skye had other plans. She looked up at River, and wiped tears and snot from her filthy face.
“Go! You saved me. One of the judges will get to me soon enough. Look—there’s one.”
River followed Skye’s pointing finger to see that one of the judges was picking her way down the rocky slope, heading for them.
“Now go! Catch Alani and Doe; you still have time if Anjo can jump the gorge here—and I think she can. You are our Lead Mare Rider—go claim your destiny!”
River didn’t hesitate. Anjo dropped to her knees and River threw herself on her mare’s back. Once astride she gazed across the wide gorge. Skye was right. Alani and Doe had lost time choosing the narrower crossing and they were only just then returning to the path that led to the final sprint to the finish line.
River didn’t need to ask Anjo if she could jump the gorge. That decision had already been made—not by River and arrogance, but by the mare herself. And River had complete confidence in Anjo.
Anjo whirled around and cantered back several yards. She paused there while River bent to put her injured foot in the stirrup. She gripped her mare with her thighs, grabbed two handfuls of mane, and leaned forward.
“I’m ready whenever you are!”
Then let us fly!
Anjo surged forward, heading toward the gorge in a fast, but controlled gallop. As the mare approached the jump, River could feel her powerful muscles gathering. Anjo’s ears were pricked forward and she showed absolutely no hesitation.
Anjo leaped! River lifted up from the saddle, staying low against Anjo’s neck and holding tightly to her mane. It seemed time suspended, because River was able to clearly see Skye waving at her and cheering as the open maw of the gorge passed beneath them. And then they were on the other side!
“Go! Go! Go! My brilliant, strong, beautiful girl!”
Anjo shot forward, eating up ground between them and the only other team in front of them.
Alani and Doe reached the black flag first. Alani was off Doe before the mare came to a stop, and began running at her side.
River steeled herself. Her foot was throbbing in time with her heartbeat, but she wasn’t going to let that get in the way of destiny.
They reached the black flag. Anjo slid to a halt and River gingerly dismounted, unable to put any weight on the foot.
You cannot run!
“I can and I will. I have an idea.” Moving quickly, River cut several long strips from the bottom of her shirt. Then she sat so that she could wrap them firmly around her broken ankle. Blood was oozing from inside her leather shoe, but River ignored it, and gritting her teeth against the pain she tied the bandage as tight as possible. Then she limped to Anjo’s shoulder, putting her arm around her mare’s neck. “Okay, let’s go.”
But you cannot run! Anjo was sniffing River’s wrapped foot. You bleed!
“We’re almost done. And, no, I can’t run by myself, but I can if you help me. I’m going to lean on you. If you trot I’ll keep up.”
I will always help you.
The two started out onto the flat, two-mile course. Anjo trotted and River, holding tightly to her mare’s neck, hobbled beside her. She tried not to keep staring at the backs of Alani and Doe as their lead lengthened.
I will catch them. Do not worry. Think only of your foot.
And that’s what River did. She stopped looking ahead. She went inside herself, focusing on keeping pace with Anjo—and on the strength and stability her mare was sharing with her—lending her support and love—so, so much love.
I see the second black flag. We are almost there.
River didn’t realize she was crying until she had to wipe her face to clear her vision. Her right leg was nothing but pain, and she couldn’t even touch her foot to the ground, but within just a few strides Anjo had stopped and dropped to her knees. With the last of her strength, River threw her leg over Anjo. The instant she was astride, Anjo stood.
“Catch them, Anjo!”
The powerful mare needed no more encouragement. For the first time that day she was able to truly run. River leaned forward, staying close to Anjo’s neck and balancing perfectly so that her mare would need only to concentrate on speed.
Anjo flew over the prairie. This time the tears that flowed from River’s eyes were from the whipping of the wind. She’d run Anjo before, but the mare had never shown this kind of speed. As River peered ahead she could see the distance between them and the other team disappearing so that as they pounded toward the finish line and the roar of the watching Herd engulfed them, Anjo’s muzzle was at Doe’s flank.
Four more strides and Anjo’s muzzle was at her competitor’s shoulder.
Just a few more strides—that’s all it would take and Anjo would pass Doe—but suddenly River saw her mother. Dawn was sitting tall and proud on Echo, with a huge purple flag raised over her head, and as they raced past her, Dawn threw down the flag, signaling that they’d reached the finish line—less than half a length behind Doe.
After that there was chaos. April was there, catching River as she began to fall out of the saddle—the pain in her ankle and foot finally having gone beyond bearable.
Anjo snorted and nuzzled River and she rested against her mare’s side. Unlike Scout, Anjo didn’t dissolve into panic or hysteria. Instead she flooded her Rider with comfort.
“Great Mother Mare, you look terrible! Where are you hurt?” April was running her hands over River, trying to find her wound.
“I’m fine. Gotta cool Anjo off.”
River! The Herd will help me. The Healers must see to you.
River blinked sweat and tears from her eyes, just then noticing that she and Anjo were surrounded by familiar faces—Herd members, all wearing amethyst around their necks.
“Riv, let us help you,” April said.
River nodded wearily. “It’s my right foot. It’s crushed. And I think my ankle is broken.”
“I’ve got her,” said a deep male voice.
River looked up to see Jasper, the Rider of the current Herd Stallion and father of Violet, River’s youngest sister, standing in front of her. He was a little younger than her mother, with just a touch of gray beginning at his temples—and he was known for his kindness. His stallion, Blaze, the biggest bay stud in the Herd, was standing a little way off, obviously wanting to get closer to his Rider, but Ghost had planted himself firmly between the stallion and Anjo.
“If you allow, I’ll carry you to the tent the Healers have set up not far from here.”
“Can I see the finish line from there?” River asked.
“Absolutely.”
“Then okay.”
As if she weighed nothing, Jasper lifted
her gently. She heard Ghost snort, and spoke quickly to her mare. “Anjo, tell Ghost to behave. Jasper is helping me.”
Ghost is very worried.
“Hey, Anjo, everything is going to be okay,” April said, stroking her sister’s mare soothingly. “You and Ghost can come with me. I’ll take your tack off, get you some water, wipe you down, and then you can come right back and be with River.”
Slowly, Anjo let April lead her away as Jasper carried River to the Healers’ tent, which was just beyond the finish line. From there she watched her mother drop the flag for two more teams—Cybill and Xanthos from their own branch of Herd Magenti, and then Magenti West’s team of Lynette and her black mare Morgan.
As soon as they crossed the finish line, Echo galloped to the Healers’ tent.
“River!” Dawn slid off her mare and rushed to her daughter.
“Mother, I’m okay. And I’m so, so sorry.”
Dawn took her daughter’s hand, grimacing as she gazed down at River’s bloody foot. “Can you save it?” she asked the Healer.
River’s stomach tensed as she waited for the Healer’s response.
“It’s not as bad as it could have been. Her ankle is broken, but the foot itself is mostly bruised and lacerated. Looks like a horse stomped it.”
The Healer and Lead Mare Rider stared at River.
“Oh, no! Anjo didn’t do that. Scout did. But not on purpose. She was in a panic.” She gripped her mother’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Mother,” she repeated.
“My darling, I have no idea why you keep apologizing, but I must return to the finish line.” She kissed River’s sweaty forehead and gently touched her cheek. “I am proud of you and Anjo. Whatever happened out there, I know you did your best.”
River bit her lip and nodded as her mother hurried back to the finish line, flagging in three more teams before the ancient Rider who was leader of the Mare Council made the announcement.
“The final team has crossed the finish line. All others have raised their white flags. The order of finish is thus: Alani and Doe in first. River and Anjo—second. Cybill and Xanthos—third. Lynette and Morgan—fourth. Willow and Gontia—fifth. Gillian and Gem—sixth.”
