Stacy Gregg - Destiny and Stardust

OK, so they needed to run – but where? Issie looked around for a way to escape. To her left were the grassy slopes of the hill. Should she try to outrun the black horse? Could they make it up the hill? She looked now to the right of her at the still, deep waters of the lake. No way out , Issie thought. What now?

As the black horse began to gallop towards them Issie felt her pulse race and she realised she knew what to do. They weren’t going to run away from this horse. They were going to run straight for him.

“C’mon, girl!” Issie said to her pony. And with an almighty kick she drove Blaze on straight at the stallion in a hard gallop. Blaze was only too willing. The mare’s eyes were fixed on the black stallion. She was ready to fight.

Issie held her path as the two horses bore down on each other. Keep your head, she told herself, keep going. Just a bit closer…

Suddenly, just as the horses were moments away from colliding, Issie hauled desperately on Blaze’s right rein. “Go, Blaze!” Issie yelled at her horse. Shocked, the mare leapt forward at Issie’s command, up into the air and down again into the murky waters of the lake.

There was an awful moment when Blaze hit the water, lost her footing and stumbled forward. Issie managed to pull the mare’s nose up and ride her on, keeping her at a canter as she regained her feet. Then they ploughed on through the mud and the reeds, the water splashing up Issie’s jodhpurs, seeping into the leather of her boots. Blaze snorted in fear as she cantered in deeper; the water was up to her chest now. Issie looked back over her shoulder. The stallion was behind them. He had followed them into the lake, but he was hesitating. Instead of cantering after them he was weaving backwards and forwards, as if uncertain whether to go any deeper into the water.

“Come on, girl!” Issie gave Blaze a sharp kick in the ribs. “Come on, girl! Let’s go!” The kick made Blaze leap forward again. Issie looked around her and realised that they were already in the middle of the lake. Then they were past the middle and heading back out the other side – and the water hadn’t so much as gone over Issie’s boots!

So much for Lake Deepwater, she thought with relief. More like Lake Shallowmud .

Issie looked back again over her shoulder. The stallion had given up on them and turned around now, trotting out of the lake and back towards his herd.

“We’ve lost him, Blaze! Not much further to go, girl!” Issie gave her mare a slappy pat on her neck. Once they reached the other side, Issie was pretty sure that just over the ridge they’d find the Coast Road that would lead them home to Blackthorn Manor.

“Good girl, Blaze!” Issie gave the mare another big pat on her neck as Blaze leapt up the muddy slopes of the bank and on to the green grass that bordered the lake.

She had been worried that Blaze might have been exhausted from the chase that morning, but the mare still seemed to have plenty of speed left in her. As they rode up the grassy slope and hit the dirt track that led them along the Coast Road back to the farm, Blaze stretched out at full gallop.

The black horse hadn’t followed them. They were safe. All the same, Issie stayed low over Blaze’s neck and let her run. She didn’t stop galloping until they were another two miles down the road. And she didn’t stop checking over her shoulder until they were safely home at Blackthorn Manor.

Aunt Hester sat on the front veranda of Blackthorn Manor with a mug of piping hot tea and a copy of the Times . As Issie and Blaze trotted down the long, leafy avenue of the limestone driveway towards her she looked up and gave them a cheery wave. Then suddenly she stopped waving. Her face turned dark with concern and she propped herself up with her walking stick and hobbled down the steps that led from the veranda and across the cherry-tree lawn to meet the horse and rider.

“What on earth happened to you two?” Hester said as she took Blaze’s reins. Issie dismounted and promptly flopped down, lying spread-eagled on the cool, green lawn next to her horse. She was completely exhausted. Blaze, who was caked with dried sweat and mud from her marathon galloping efforts, looked even more wretched than her rider.

“We got into a bit of trouble – well, two bits of trouble actually,” Issie said.

“I can see that!” Aunt Hester said. “Isadora, how did you end up in this state? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Aunty Hess. Honest. I just need a minute to get back up…” Issie took a deep breath and forced herself to stand up again, reaching out to take Blaze’s reins. Aunt Hester reluctantly handed them to her.

“Her stable is all ready for her. Aidan mucked it out this morning. I’ll come with you and help you untack. And on the way you’re going to tell me what in the blazes you two have been getting up to out there!”

As they walked slowly down the driveway to the stables Issie told her aunt about the animal in the woods that had stalked them along the ridge track.

“So you didn’t see this creature at all?” Hester asked. “Not even a glimpse?”

“It was too dark in the trees and we were moving so fast that I couldn’t see,” Issie said. “All I know is that it was big. Really big. It could keep up with Blaze even when she was galloping.”

“Could it have been one of the dogs? Did they follow you out?” Aunt Hester asked.

“It was far too big to be Taxi or Strudel,” Issie said, “but I suppose it could have been Nanook.” The enormous black Newfoundland was large enough to have made the crashing noises she had heard.

“Oh, I doubt it. Nanook never goes for a walk without me. She’s bone idle and as slow as a wet week.” Hester dismissed the idea. Then she paused for a moment. “Could it, well, could it have been a cat?”

Issie looked at her aunt. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, I don’t mean like a common moggy, dear,” Aunt Hester said. “No. I mean a big cat, a mountain cat. There’s a myth in these parts, you know, about a black cat that lives wild in the hills. They say it escaped from a zoo, and I suppose it’s possible since there was once a wildlife park not far from here. They had antelope and lions and all sorts. When the wildlife park closed down all the animals were shipped off, but this particular black cat escaped and they never found it again. I’ve always thought the whole story sounded rather ridiculous. You hear a lot of tall tales about that sort of thing when you live out this way. Still, people do believe the myth. The Grimalkin they call him. The witch’s cat. Although I can’t imagine that even a witch would be too pleased if she came across an enormous great panther! Old Bill Stokes who lives down on the Coast Road farm claims he saw it one night. He said a great black cat the size of a bear came out of the undergrowth and attacked one of his sheep, dragged it off right in front of his eyes. Of course they never found any sign of the sheep – and old Bill Stokes does like a drink so his accounts cannot always be relied upon…”

“Well, whatever it was, Blaze was terrified of it,” Issie said.

“I haven’t heard any reports of lost stock or anything unusual lately,” Hester mused. “I think the best thing we can do is to let Cameron know about it. He’s the local ranger with the Blackthorn Hills Conservation Trust. He’s coming out to see me tomorrow and this is exactly the sort of thing he deals with. If there’s a wild beastie in the woods he’ll soon see to it.”