Willow heard her whinny die away. Nothing happened. What was she going to do now?
Suddenly, through the mist, there came an answering whinny.
Willow’s heart leaped. Someone had heard her! Who was it? She whinnied again. “Help me, please! I’m lost!” She waited for a reply. Would anyone come?
A dapple-grey shape appeared. “Don’t worry, Willow,” it snorted softly. “I am here.”
As the shape came closer, Willow saw it was Storm! She neighed in relief. “How did you know it was me? What are you doing down here?”
“I followed you,” Storm whickered. “I saw you leave.” Her wise brown eyes looked at Willow. “Where were you going?”
“Home,” Willow whinnied. She hung her head. “You were right, Storm. I don’t belong with the herd. I want to go back to Hannah and Devon Farm.”
Willow waited for Storm to tell her off. But to her surprise, Storm stepped forward and nuzzled her.
Willow looked up. “Aren’t you angry with me?”
“No, Willow,” Storm snorted. “You are not the first tame pony to try being wild and not like it. Come on. I will show you your way home.”
“But what about the mist?” Willow whickered, looking at the white swirling cloud around them. “We can’t see. It’s too dangerous.”
“Not for me,” Storm snorted, tossing her head. “I was born on these moors. I have run over them every day of my life and I know every rock and every bog.” She breathed warm air gently on to Willow’s face. “Follow me and you will be safe.”
Willow hesitated. “But what about the herd?” she asked. “What if they move on and you’re left behind?”
“They will not leave without me,” Storm whinnied proudly. “Tor will wait. Come now.”
And so, treading in Storm’s hoofprints, Willow followed the grey mare over the moor.
Hannah walked slowly down to the paddock. She had checked the stable but it was still empty.
It was misty this morning. She leaned on the paddock gate and stared out at the white-covered moors. It was cold, and the air was damp, but Hannah hardly noticed. Tears welled up in her eyes. “Oh please, Willow,” she whispered, “please come home.”
Hannah was just about to go back inside, when out of the white mist two pony shapes appeared. One was dapple-grey – but the other was bay-coloured and very like . . .
“Willow!” Hannah cried.
“Hannah!” Willow neighed back, in delight.
The next instant, Willow was cantering up the track to meet her owner. Coming to a halt, she buried her head against Hannah’s chest.
“Oh, Willow!” Hannah cried, flinging her arms round her and bursting into tears of joy. “You’ve come home!”
Willow had never felt so happy. It was wonderful having Hannah hug her again.
Lifting her head, Willow breathed on Hannah’s face and nuzzled at her hair.
Hannah started to laugh although the tears were still running down her face. “Oh, Willow! Where have you been?”
Willow snorted, wishing she could explain.
“You must be so hungry and you’re all cold and damp,” Hannah said. “I’ll get you some breakfast and dry you off.”
“Breakfast!” Willow whinnied in delight. Then suddenly, she remembered Storm. She looked round.
Storm was still standing at the top of the track. She looked almost ghostly in the mist.
“Come and have some breakfast, Storm!” Willow neighed. “There’ll be bran and pony nuts and hay, and a warm stable.”
At the top of the track, Storm shook her thick mane proudly. “Those things are for tame ponies, Willow,” she whinnied back. “I am wild and free!” She wheeled around. “Goodbye, Willow.” And with a toss of her head she disappeared into the mist.
“Goodbye!” Willow whinnied back, staring after her.
“Oh, Willow,” Hannah said. “I’m so glad you’ve come home.”
Willow turned and nuzzled Hannah’s face, happily. She knew that there would always be a little bit of her that was wild. But here, with Hannah, was just where she wanted to be.
