Category: Book 1 Excerpts

The spooked horses stampeded into the deadly corridor. The gray mare swung with the herd as Meagan grabbed mane and fought to stay mounted. Packed bodies crushed against her and she was carried with the torrent.

Walls of rock blurred as the band plunged down the canyon. The close-running herd squeezed against her legs, threatening to pull her into the flashing hooves. There was no way to stop and a fall would mean a trampled death. The corridor curved ahead, and Meagan felt the ground begin to slope. The left wall vanished as the first shrill screams tore the air.

“PROMISE!”

The gray mare collided into the horse in front and scrambled to remain upright. Meagan buried her face into her mount’s neck, closing her eyes for the impact from behind. She fell into the rolling mass, holding the gray tightly as they were torn from the earth.

The animal’s round belly was tucked into thin, drawn quarters and her cream-colored coat was mottled with patches of darker gray. The scrubby mane and tail were chewed off in spots, and her coat was covered in scars and puffy lumps.

“Poor thing, no one’s taking care of you.” Meagan’s voice was loud in this quiet place and many small eyes were quickly upon her. She decided to rinse off her coating of dust and grime, and knelt in the cool water to gently splash her arms. She inhaled deeply, drawing in rich scents of animals and earth.

Warm breath smelling of cut lawn blew on her neck. Meagan blinked in surprise but did not move. She thought of something else her grandfather used to say: “Horses are as unpredictable as people, only they have more sense.”

Meagan let the flutter of horse nostrils explore her hair as she reached slowly for the mare’s shaggy withers. The small gray horse half-closed her eyes as Meagan scratched gently to imitate the nuzzling greeting of equines. “A horse got me into this,” she told the mare softly. “Maybe you could get me out…”

The edges of the water were becoming distinct in the gray light of morning. Animals were materializing around her. A horse with the unmistakable girth of a broodmare stepped haltingly to the water’s edge. When the mare lowered her head, blowing softly across the water, the whole band flowed in, heads high and ears taut. The stallion stayed back from the edge and paced the dark shore.

The horse herd spread along one bank, interspersed with small creatures that drank cautiously at the edge. One small gray horse began moving further into the riverbed in search of clean water, its steps comically high. “I think you have the right idea,” Meagan told the animal quietly. She stepped further into the warm water, feeling mud flow around her bare toes. If there were danger, the horses would know.

The gray horse’s soft eyes fixed on Meagan’s progress. Her grandfather often called horses the “nosiest animal in Creation.” He called curiosity a fatal weakness of the species … well, that and a fondness for oats.