Sensing a patch of clover, Tress pawed at the snow, teasing the frozen lobes free with her lips. Her tongue numbed as she sought more, her stomach rumbling with hunger. Giving up, she studied the dark skies. “Let’s see if the oats have been put out yet.”
Breeze stirred under the tree, snow crusted in her flaxen mane. “They won’t be. It’s only just past midday.”
Snows had come earlier than any horse could remember. Without hay and oats, they would have suffered many losses. Two old mares had already perished, their skeletal bodies devoured by hogs. The people had burnt what little remained, unable to save even the torn hides or hair. The clan spent a lot of time gathering fuel, collecting dried dung in addition to fallen branches. Flowering Valley had too few trees to chop down for firewood. Families trekked long distances to gather timber for new dwellings.
Tress nudged her friend’s neck. “Let’s go anyway. I could do with a canter to warm up.”
The palomino turned her head away. “You just want to see who the delegate is who turned up yesterday. Streak won’t be happy if we interfere with his negotiations.”
Tress stamped her cold hooves. “You’re so boring. I thought you’d be interested in where we might end up.”
“Of course I am. That’s why I don’t want to be rude. I don’t want to belong to King Flash.” Breeze shifted her weight, not showing any intention of moving.
Tress huffed. “I’m going to the creek then. I can’t stand around doing nothing. There’s not enough grass to bother digging.”
Before Tress could act, a pair of stallions approached. Lifting their knees high through the snow, they made a magnificent sight. Streak led the way. “I’ve been looking for you two. Why are you never with the other mares? Come and meet Wolfbane, the delegate from Oakvale.”
Tress and Breeze shook the snow from their coats and trotted to meet the newcomer. They stretched their soft noses forward to blow into the bay stallion’s nostrils. Not as tall as Streak, his solid frame rippled with muscle. Shaggy hair hung from his lower legs, heavy with wet snow.
Wolfbane pranced in greeting. “You’re certainly worthy to be Oakvale mares. I had heard of the beauty of King Streak’s offspring.”
Tress arched her neck at the praise, lifted one foreleg, and squealed as she struck at the snow.
Streak barged between Wolfbane and the fillies, snapping at the delegate. “These two aren’t for my brother. They’re destined for country far to the east and will have to cross Flash’s territory. I’m only introducing them so your warriors won’t interfere with their progress.”
The heavy bay stallion was obviously disappointed. Tress had heard he was Head of Warriors and likely to be the next Oakvale king. “I don’t want to go far away. I like it here. Why can’t I wait a few more years?”
“You’ll go where you’re told when you’re told.”
After flattening her ears at her sire, Tress pricked them towards Wolfbane. “What’s so important a noble warrior is acting as delegate?”
Wolfbane stood proud. “I also come with news of serious danger. Wolves from Dark Woods have crossed River Lifeflow and are massing in Great Forest.”
Stepping forward, Tress quivered all over. “Surely that’s more reason for you to stay in your own territory. Do you think they’ll come as far as Flowering Valley? They must be hungry. I didn’t think they liked open country.”
Streak nipped his daughter on the shoulder, driving her back from the visiting stallion. “These wolves are unlike any we’ve heard of. Bloodwolves. They’re as tall as you, with crimson eyes and blood-red fur. They killed two colts before the snow made stalking impossible. And they hunt alone instead of in packs, so there’s less chance we can smell them.”
Wolfbane added that injured horses didn’t recover. “They suffer terrible depression and don’t eat, and their wounds don’t heal. At least three more bachelors are likely to die before winter is over.”
Streak addressed both fillies. “We must be vigilant. Do you think I order you to stay with the mares for fun? Go and join Starburst.”
The risk of danger had never occurred to Tress. In her short life, no wolves had been sighted within the heart of Flowering Valley. The hogs were no threat. A shiver ran down her spine. She thought of the young stallion, Fleet, who had visited in late summer. All she knew was that he had headed northeast on a task set by her sire. At least he was heading away from the bloodwolves. He interested her, even if he was rude and ignorant. She felt a strange affinity with him being the only other black she had met. Now she doubted she would ever see him again. That troubled her.
Another nip on her neck broke in to Tress’s thoughts. Streak pressed her away with his broad chest. Breeze had already headed towards the main herd. Tress obeyed and trotted after the palomino, her head buzzing.
Later that evening, content with a belly full of hay and oats, Tress and Breeze wandered to the creek for a drink. Most of the mares had drifted back to the shelter of the trees. A cool wind tugged at Tress’s mane and tail. “I bet there’ll be ice on the water soon.”
Breeze sipped at the sparkling stream where it burbled over pebbles in the shallows. Unlike River Lifeflow marking the western border of Streak’s territory, the small creeks criss-crossing the rolling grasslands were narrow enough to jump. Breeze’s pale hooves glistened where tiny waves lapped over her toes. “Last winter we had the queen’s milk.”
Tress savoured the memory of the sweet drink she had suckled for the first nine moons of her life. “It’s good she’s dried up. She’s definitely expecting again.”
The fillies chatted on about what the future might hold for them. At least it sounded as if they would be staying together. Breeze lifted her head, water dripping from her muzzle. “Do you think Streak negotiated for you to be queen at the new territory? I wonder if the land is open like this, or forested like Oakvale.”
Tress didn’t answer until after a long drink, the cold water slithering into her gut like a snake of dread. “I expect there’ll already be a queen. We’ve more chance of rising up the ranks if we work together.”
They paused as Wolfbane cantered towards them. Snow sprayed as he pulled up a few horse lengths away. “I’ve been waiting all day to find you two alone.”
Glancing around to make sure Streak was not in sight, Tress tossed her tail and pranced on the spot. “It’s nice to see you again. Why do you want to talk to us?”
Wolfbane sidled closer. “I know where Streak aims to send you. It’s an awful place and the queen is a bully. She’ll never let you wander like you do here.”
Taken aback, Tress flicked her tail in annoyance. “She’ll respect me if her king has traded well for us.”
The bay stallion snorted. “Once the swap is done, there’s no going back. You’ll be made to have a foal every year and have no say in how it’s raised. I’ve spoken with my sisters who have gone there. They’re keen to be the ones selected to come here in return. King Scar has offered six proven mares for you.”
Shocked at Wolfbane’s words, yet at the same time delighted the other king considered her worthy, Tress didn’t like the sound of King Scar. She’d heard of mares being killed by stallions if they misbehaved. “Perhaps by spring Streak will have a better offer.”
Wolfbane stepped between the two fillies. “Another reason I’m here, rather than a junior delegate, is that I’ve been sent to aid the black stallion on his mission to find a unicorn. Your sire sent a runner to warn King Flash of Sapphire’s vision. Why don’t you come with me instead of being sent east?”
Breeze moved away. “We could never go against our king’s will. Even if we wanted to, he’d send warriors to chase us down.” She told how, the previous year, a mare had run away with one of the bachelors. Streak had sent horses after them, killing the rogue stallion and returning with the mare. The king had mounted her until she slipped her foal and he sired her progeny.
Heedless of the dire warning, an adventure to find a unicorn appealed to Tress. “How will we be able to leave without being noticed?” Tress wavered, her inner desires tugging against her rigid upbringing. “What do we do once we find them? What if we don’t?”
Wolfbane seemed to have a solution for all her arguments. He pushed his case further. “Think of the glory that would be added to your name if you returned with help from the unicorns. You’d be so valuable you could choose your own future, maybe even challenge Starburst as lead mare.”
Leaving the suggestion hanging in the air, the stallion spun and galloped away, calling over his shoulder. “I’ll come and find you when it’s dark.”
Breeze headed for their usual resting tree.
Tress ignored her and sought out Starburst. “Is it true Breeze and I are to be sent east in spring?”
Starburst continued to graze. “Don’t worry, Blackfoot will escort you. You’ll be safe.”
“I don’t want to go. What if the king is horrible? What if the queen doesn’t like me?” Tress shadowed her dam, adding her desire to stay close to Flowering Valley.
The mare switched her tail in irritation. “Streak has made a good match for you. You’ll go where you’re told. I suggest you improve your manners if you want to be accepted. You’ve a lot to learn.”
Seeing she wouldn’t get any support from Starburst, Tress joined her friend at the solitary cottonwood on the river flats. Most of its golden leaves had fallen, mingling with old droppings and seedpods to provide a soft footing. The old trunk showed scars where horses stripped bark to chew. One twisted branch had been worn smooth where the fillies scratched their withers and rumps.
Tress pleaded with her friend to escape with Wolfbane. “Come on, it’ll be fun. We’ll probably be back before we come into season anyway.”
Breeze tossed her flaxen mane. “Don’t be ridiculous. We can’t go with that stallion any more than we can refuse to go east. And what about the wolves?”
“We’ll be safe with a mighty warrior like Wolfbane.” She reared and pranced, gambolling like a foal. “We’ll dance with the stallions, our beauty outshining even that of unicorns.” She pounded her hooves in the snow and bit at wet clumps. “We’ll slaughter the bloodwolves and trample them beneath our hooves.” She whinnied long and loud. “All the herds will welcome us in celebration of our victory!”
Breeze sniffed in disdain. “You do what you like. I’m staying here.”
Disappointed Breeze wouldn’t go, Tress was torn between an adventure to meet a unicorn and the familiarity of home for the winter. The final deciding factor became the chance to meet the black stallion again.
As night closed in, Breeze still refused to accompany Wolfbane. Despite her friend’s resistance, or maybe because of it, Tress became more determined to run away with the bay stallion. Adrenalin flowed through her veins, keeping her senses alert. As the bitter wind dropped, fluffy snowflakes started to fall. She tensed as she heard muffled hoofbeats.
A dark horse loomed out of the whiteness, excitement exuding from his warm body.
“Are you coming?” Wolfbane stood so close his breath melted the crystals on her mane.
Tress snatched a last look at her friend and made up her mind. As the Head of Oakvale Warriors departed, she cantered after him, their hoofprints soon covered with fresh snow.
They reached River Lifeflow before dawn, its dark waters roaring like a beast intent on devouring everything in its path, its far side out of sight. Tress perched on the bank, rigid.
Wolfbane stood behind her. “Jump. This is the narrowest spot.”
She hesitated. She had never swum before. The water swirled, bottomless, hiding she knew not what.
She shied as Wolfbane bit her rump. “Get going!”
She could do this. She was a princess! Holding her breath, she leapt, her legs thrashing the air as she plunged into the unknown.
The force of water knocked her sideways. Her legs struck out in frenzy, no ground beneath her. The freezing cold numbed her to the core. She thrashed, fighting to hold her head above the surface. Chunks of ice banged her right side.
Wolfbane’s presence loomed upstream. He overtook her, leaving her to the mercy of the current.
Gritting her teeth, she stretched her neck and paddled to keep up. With relief, she heard hooves clatter on gravel. Her feet touched bottom, floated, and again grounded. This time she scrambled onto the far shore, her lungs searing with every gasp. Her coat froze into icicles as soon as she emerged.
She vowed never to immerse herself higher than her knees again.
“Hurry up, running will help.” Wolfbane set off without waiting for her.
Tress broke into a canter, her hooves numb, and her knees threatening to give way.
They reached a smaller river. Much to her relief, they veered away and headed towards the trees. Apparently, following the river made tracking them too easy. However, when they reached Dark Woods, Wolfbane avoided the shelter, cantering among the shadows at the edge of the forest. He called for her to stay close. “The trees can hide wolves.”
She warmed, and then became hot. Sweat broke out on her chest despite the rush of frigid air. Dark shapes whizzed past her head. She dodged and skidded, every bone brittle with tension. Her breathing laboured. “Can’t…we…slow…down?”
Wolfbane came abreast and snapped at her shoulder. “Not yet. Keep going.”
Tress had never been so cold in her life. As she stared at the vast expanse of water ahead, her heart lurched in fear. This made River Lifeflow look like a tiny creek.
The excitement of leaving the herd for a great adventure had worn off days ago. Her stomach rumbled as Tress dreamed of the oats and hay, the women’s careful grooming, and the company of Breeze back at Flowering Valley. Wolfbane never wanted to talk and drove a hard pace. If he spoke at all, it was only to chivvy her on. Although the snow had long since covered any sign of the black stallion’s passing, Wolfbane claimed this was the right way.
She had no choice but to go on; she couldn’t swim back across the river.
Tress peered down the hillside where the water glinted under heavy clouds. Movement caught her eye. “Look, horses! This must be Silverlake.”
The stallion drove her back from the ridge. “Don’t let them see you. I thought I smelled a herd close by. We must go.”
“Why? They probably live with a clan. We could seek food and attention.” Tress could almost taste the oats and smell the rich alfalfa.
“Attention is exactly what we don’t want.” Wolfbane bit her on the rump, driving her down the hill.
Tress fumed. “Will you stop doing that?” Her bruised hindquarters stung from the many bites she had received since leaving home. Although Streak had occasionally nipped her for some transgression, he never dug his teeth in like this stallion. “The herd might have seen Fleet. They’ll be able to tell us when he passed through and which way he’s headed. They might even know more about a unicorn.”
Wolfbane threatened her with bared teeth. “They might also try to keep you or send a runner back to Streak. Leave the decisions to me and get a move on.”
Fearing how brutal the stallion could be when she crossed him, Tress set off at a canter down the rocky hillside. She ducked and weaved through scrubby trees, lashing out at scraping branches, wishing she kicked Wolfbane instead.
Once hidden behind a low range of hills, Wolfbane changed back to a northwest heading. Avoiding other horses meant ignoring the easier paths alongside creeks or the direct routes over hills and through valleys. Instead, he forced a jagged trail from copse to copse.
Tress groaned and slowed to a walk. “Can’t we graze for a bit? I’m starving.”
Wolfbane sniffed at the tussocks poking through the snow. “These grasses are no good. We’ll keep moving until there’s something better.”
Tress couldn’t imagine they would find anything better than they had for the last few days. As tired as she was of needlegrass, she needed to eat something. Her legs wobbled with exhaustion. She grabbed a mouthful of snow to wet her parched mouth. Only the fear of being alone kept her moving.
The sun had sunk below the horizon by the time Wolfbane called a rest. “We’ll graze here. Keep close.”
Too tired to care about the stallion’s abruptness, Tress tore at the rough blades of tufted hairgrass that cut her tongue. Chewing, chewing, chewing, she followed the mouthfuls from one clump to the other, oblivious of her surroundings, only aware of the cold and her hunger.
A scream rang out.
Tress looked for Wolfbane. She couldn’t see him. What should she do? She reared, eyes rolling. A rank smell wafted on the air.
A pack of wolves sprang from the forest. Wolfbane fought among them. The stallion struck out with teeth and hooves. Shaggy grey beasts smothered him. He knocked one down. Another leapt for his neck. He lashed his front hooves at the attacker’s head before spinning and kicking out with his hind legs. Blood poured from his shoulder. In a moment of respite, he lunged forwards and pounded a downed animal, bellowing in anger.
The wolves that could still run bolted into the darkness. Those who lay maimed or stunned, Wolfbane trampled to death, striking his forelegs hard on their skulls.
Puffed, he limped to where Tress stood gaping. A streak of blood ran down his shoulder. “We’d better move on.”
Stunned by the stallion’s power and brutality, Tress remained silent. Not needing any more encouragement, she set off at a lope, her hunger forgotten.
The following days merged into one long bout of cold and hunger. Tress stopped thinking about where they were going or why, focusing on grabbing enough to eat to keep moving. Only when the snow became too deep to navigate in the dark did Wolfbane let them stop. If her body started to flag, she only needed to remember the wolf attack to give her new energy.
Reaching the flatter grasslands, Wolfbane allowed the pace to slow. The wide open spaces gave protection from the approach of predators. Piles of horse dung and frozen hoof prints looked old. As they headed closer to the river, the snow lessened and the quality of the feed improved. Tress caught herself falling asleep mid-bite whenever she allowed herself to relax.
Heading down to the water, she slurped before raising her dripping muzzle. “This water isn’t as cold as it has been. Do you think spring is on its way?”
Wolfbane walked upstream, tasting the water in a number of places before reaching a fork in the river. He studied the smaller branch coming from the north. “We’ll follow the main stream to the west.”
“I thought we needed to go north. That seems to be where the better water comes from.”
“We’ll go west.” Wolfbane trotted off with dragging hooves, his thick tail clamped against his wasting body. His head bobbed as he shortened the stride of his near fore to protect his wounded shoulder.
Tress jogged after him, her head low and toes scuffing the ground. When they next stopped to browse, she sidled up. “Are you sure we’re going the right way?”
He turned his rump towards her. “Your dam must have been sloppy not to teach you any manners, like not questioning a stallion. I thought we’d find a few bachelors to join us for added protection.”
Although Tress could see the sense in more horses to help in their defence, she couldn’t let the insult to Starburst go unchallenged. Taking a deep breath, she braced her legs. “It’s not up to you to say when and where we go. A queen finds good feed and fresh water. You should mind your own manners and consult me.”
Wolfbane lashed out with one hind leg. “You’re not a queen yet, not even a mare. I won’t be consulting an upstart filly.”
Rebuffed, Tress missed the herd back at Flowering Valley. She wished she’d never followed the Oakvale Head of Warriors to find Fleet. Not even the handsome black stallion was worth suffering the cold, hunger, and insults. She hoped they’d encounter a few bachelors soon. Maybe they’d treat her with more respect. Why did Wolfbane want to avoid the Silverlake herd, yet now sought horses to accompany them? Maybe the wolf attack had scared him, despite his success at driving them off. The cold made thinking hard and her stomach complained.
Before her hunger was satisfied, they moved on again.
The further west they travelled, the hillier the country became. The river twisted its way through rocky outcrops interspersed with flats covered in drifts. Their pace slowed as they navigated sharp rocks or made the most of the pasture where the wind had blown away the snow. In the lee of the hills they occasionally found grasses still laden with seeds. Fresh signs of other horses started to appear, yet they saw no-one. With her stomach full, Tress’s mood improved, at the same time as concern arose that they had gone astray in their search for Fleet.
As they grazed their way up a wide valley, the roar of tumbling water increased. Wolfbane, for once in a good mood, strode up to Tress. “This must be White Water Cliffs. See if you can find the clan while I find out who’s taken over from King Thunder.”
Confused at this change of strategy, Tress did as ordered. The chance of asking people for assistance gave a spring to her step. The village would be close to water, so she followed the river to the falls. A cool spray misted her mane and formed droplets on her eyelashes as she headed along the base of the cliffs. Spotting what looked like caves, she went to investigate.
The clatter of her hooves on the loose scree echoed off the limestone walls. A cavern wide enough for several horses loomed above her. About to peer in, she shot backwards, her head raised and eyes blinking, as a bay mare lunged out with bared teeth. “What—?”
“Get away!” The horse snapped at her and struck out with her foreleg. “You don’t belong here.”
Tress pranced in a circle with her head high. Striking a pose with her tail slung over her back didn’t have any effect on the mare’s attitude. She adopted a different stance, lowering her head to appear humble. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Princess Silken Tresses of Flowering Valley, travelling with Wolfbane, Oakvale’s Head of Warriors. We haven’t seen other horses for many moons.”
The mare made no attempt to conduct polite greetings and didn’t budge. “You can keep moving. There’s nothing here for you.”
“Where’s your clan? Can we get something to eat, and perhaps a groom?” Tress was sure that at least the people would extend their hospitality.
A derisive snort came from the bay mare. She pointed with her nose. “Their huts are that way. Help yourself.”
Tress set off in the direction indicated. Saliva burst into her mouth as she spotted the first dwellings. Her nostrils flared as she tested the air for the sweet smell of hay. Instead, a rotten odour forced her to close her mouth, her tongue dry. She slowed to a walk and looked around the cluster of buildings, calling in a low whinny. No-one responded. No women beat corn in pottery bowls. No children played, or brought baskets of nuts from the forest.
The nearer she approached, the greater the stench. She walked up to the communal building and flinched as her eyes adjusted to the gloom. Smashed skulls and broken bones imprinted on her mind. She cantered back to the open grasslands and didn’t stop until she found Wolfbane.
Gasping more from fear than exertion, she pulled up. “All the people are dead! Wolves have eaten them. There’s no-one here except for a cranky old mare guarding a cave.”
Wolfbane pawed at the ground and sniffed the dirt. “No ordinary wolves either. Bloodwolves. We must remain in the open.”
“What about the mare in the cave? Maybe that’s why she’s there, for protection.”
He gazed across to where Tress indicated. “More likely that’s where the hay is stored. I’ll sort her out. Stay with me.”
Tress guided Wolfbane to the large cavern. Even with his aggressive attitude, his strength and growing familiarity gave her comfort. Dropping back as they neared the cliffs, she let him challenge the mare.
The old mare rushed out with her teeth bared, as she had with Tress. Nothing Wolfbane said made any difference. She continued to resist his attempts to enter the cave. He barged her, knocking her to the ground. Pinning her neck with his good front leg, he bit off the tip of her ear. She squealed and thrashed her legs, unable to rise.
Tress had never seen punishment meted out like this. “Stop it! This is her territory. Fight her king if you must, but don’t attack a mare.”
Wolfbane turned his head without removing his weight from the prone horse. “I haven’t found any other horses, let alone a king. That makes this territory mine, and you two are my first mares.”
Tress trembled, confusion blurring her mind. “What about our quest? We can’t stay here.”
“Quest? My only quest was to steal you and find a new territory. Did you really believe we were searching for a stupid colt who allows a man to ride him on a mission to find a unicorn who doesn’t exist? You’re more naïve than I thought.”
Tress backed away from the cave and fidgeted from foot to foot. Her mind reeled with the implications of Wolfbane’s revelation. A desire to race back to Flowering Valley filled her head. Before she could think more about what to do, she became aware of the old mare struggling under Wolfbane’s hooves.
The mare managed to stand, gasping in ragged breaths. “Don’t think…you can take over…that easily. There are many…in the woods…who will challenge you.”
Wolfbane snapped at her neck leaving teeth marks where he tore off her hair. “What’s your name? Tell me what happened here.”
The mare recovered her breath. She drew herself up, her head high. “I am Precipice. If you want to know more you’ll make me queen.”
Tress didn’t think Precipice looked much like a queen. From her sunken back and distended belly, it was obvious she had borne many foals. Her mane hung lank and her ribs protruded. Her cracked hooves curled at the toes showing it had been a long time since she walked far. “Who became lead mare after Queen Sapphire? We heard she was killed by a wolf in Dark Woods.”
Precipice cocked her head. “Was she? Hardly a surprise. There hasn’t been a true herd since Thunder was murdered. This cavern is mine.”
As Wolfbane made to go inside, the mare blocked him, snapping as hard as he had bitten her. “Mine, I said. Don’t come any closer.”
He didn’t bother to reply with words, rearing and striking out, walking forward on his hind legs. He barged her over with his chest, biting and stamping as she squirmed beneath him. He continued to pound her as he had the wolves. Her squeals turned to groans and her struggles slowed. Blood smeared the ground. With a final shudder she ceased moving, her mashed head oozing gore across the stones.
Wolfbane strode into the cave before returning to Tress. “What little hay is left is stale and musty. We can’t eat that. We’ll leave her body for the forest creatures to clean up.” Without a backward glance, he trotted off to the river.
Anger overcame Tress’s terror. How dare Wolfbane kill a mare! How did he expect to build a herd if that was his attitude? Heat flooded her veins and her breathing quickened. She had no hope of returning to Flowering Valley on her own. Even if she could steal away, she despaired what her future must hold. Her only hope was that another stallion would challenge and beat Wolfbane.