Winter of the Whinnies Brigade

WINTER OF THE WHINNIES BRIGADE

Whinnies on the Wind Series: Volume 9

by Angela Dorsey

Copyright 2013 Angela Dorsey

www.aydorsey.com

Published by Enchanted Pony Books

www.ponybooks.com

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Table of Contents

Winter of the Whinnies Brigade

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Dark Fire

Also Available by Angela Dorsey

Connect

Chapter 1

When the snowflakes became as big as Rusty’s large brown eyes, I started to get nervous. My gray gelding snorted and shook his head, sending the snow on his mane flying in a halo of white around his head. It’s okay, buddy, I murmured, and patted his shoulder with a gloved hand. We’ll be home soon.

What’d you say? Kestrel, my best friend, called back to me. She rode her old bay mare, Twitchy, only a few feet in front of me, and the two of them looked like mythical creatures, half fog and half shadow, through the massive snowflakes. The snow even seemed to muffle her voice.

Nothing. Just talking to Rusty, I called back.

Aloud?

I laughed. Some might think that was a strange thing for Kestrel to say, but she knows I can talk telepathically with Rusty and my mustang filly, Twilight. I can feel horse emotions and sensations in my body too. And my gift is a secret. No one knows but Kestrel and old Charlie, the Wild Horse Ranger – though I think Mom suspects.

My reason for not telling anyone? I don’t want everyone to think I’m a total freak.

Unbelievably, the snow began to fall even more thickly. I turned in my saddle to look for Twilight, who’d been following close on Rusty’s heels for the last half hour. She was gone. I sighed. My filly was nothing if she wasn’t adventurous. She probably considered a whiteout great fun, like nature’s way of playing hide and seek. I sent out my horse radar. Yes, there she was, just yards away, getting a kick out of following us unseen. I felt her snort more than I heard it.

No fair, she thought to me. Use thoughts to find.

Sorry.

Twilight’s irritation shot into my mind. She hated it when I apologized. I hadn’t realized I said sorry so much until after it started bugging her. For some reason, I always seemed to be apologizing around Twilight, which was odd because she was the one always getting into mischief.

The snowfall grew even heavier. Kestrel and Twitchy were the faintest of shadows in front of me; the trees crowding the trail became ghostly pillars. Can you see where you’re going? I yelled.

Not really.

Uh oh.

I’m letting Twitchy choose our way, she continued.

Okay. I tried to not sound too obviously relieved. I didn’t so much mistrust Kestrel’s sense of direction as I completely and totally trusted Twitchy’s. No matter what, that mare would always find the quickest way back to her hay. She was a home-seeking missile, and she’d be especially motivated this morning, because Kestrel and I had been away from home since yesterday.

We’d been on our annual winter camp out, this time among the meadows on the other side of Sparrow Lake, the closest place I’ve ever seen to a fairytale winter wonderland.

The sun had shone, the snow had sparkled, and we’d seen lots of wildlife – though thankfully, none of the scary kind with sharp teeth, slavering jaws, and big muscles. We’d galloped through the white fluff where we were sure of the footing beneath, and then as the horses rested, we’d jumped from their backs into the highest drifts and flapped our arms like mad to make snow angels. After, we lit a fire, changed into dry clothes, and set up our tent beneath a massive tree. As the sun sank behind the mountains, leaving the sky all gold and vermillion and florescent pink, we fed the horses their oats and cooked dinner. We had hot chocolate and cookies for desert while we talked. And talked and talked and talked.

Rusty and Twilight wandered off into the night. They enjoyed roughing it too, especially Twilight. Camping out made her feel like a wild horse again. Twitchy, on the other hand, would’ve high-tailed it for home if she’d been left loose for a millisecond, so she had to be put in a rope corral with some extra hay. Given that she had no freedom, Rusty and Twilight didn’t envy her hay even a tiny bit, but Twitchy didn’t mind being kept in a corral; she preferred food to freedom.

And so we’d all gone to sleep happily – and very late. There’d just been so much to talk about with all Kestrel’s recent adventures at boarding school, and I had to tell her the details of my adventures last fall too, when I’d met my family.

My family. Shudder... Suffice it to say that my grandmother tried to imprison me in her house, my sister, Jen, hates my guts; and my dad betrayed me and Mom.

The thing with my dad hurt the most. By far. I don’t like to think about it.

The only relatives I liked of the whole bunch were my little brother, Tristan, and my stepmom, Heidi. They were great.

Rusty stopped short, just inches from Twitchy’s bum. What’s up? I asked Kestrel.

She turned to face me. You want to take a turn breaking trail?

Sure. I reined Rusty around Twitchy, then we settled into our slow moving train again. Poor Twitchy panted heavily behind me. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the poor old girl.

I turned in my saddle. Rusty didn’t need my guidance. He too knew where to go. So when are you going to ask your mom and dad if you can get a younger horse?

I couldn’t see Kestrel’s expression clearly because of the snowfall, but I didn’t have to. I could hear her defensiveness in her voice. There’s nothing wrong with Twitchy.

"I didn’t say there was anything wrong with her. It’s just that these long trips really tire her out."

Only in the snow. She’s great in the summer.

Okay, so something was definitely off. Kestrel had always wanted a faster, more energetic, more adventurous horse than Twitchy. No matter how well trained, a ball of energy and speed Twitchy was not, and never would be.

A loud crash shot from the woods to our right. Rusty stared in the direction of the sound, his head high.

"Please tell me that was Twilight," Kestrel said.

I closed my eyes and sent out my horse radar. Twilight was behind us, not to our right.

I bet it’s just snow falling from the branches, I said and shifted in the saddle.

Big snow.

Let’s go faster. I asked Rusty to walk on, and with a defeated sigh, Twitchy dragged herself after him. I concentrated enough to send her a quick vision of oats waiting in her stall at home, and she stepped forward a little more eagerly.

Whump!

More snow thunking to the ground?

That’s not just snow, said Kestrel, saying the thing I least wanted to hear.

What else could it be, I said, making it sound like a statement, not a question. That way Kestrel would know I didn’t really want her to answer, right?

A bear? A pack of wolves? A bull moose? A cougar? A wolf? A wolverine? Kestrel said, totally ignoring my hints and listing the possibilities in order of awfulness, though the wolverine being last was debateable. They’re small but strong and incredibly grumpy. If they’re having a bad day, they’re higher than bears on the list.

You’re so negative. I bet it’s a cute little deer.

A deer would’ve run the moment it heard us. Kestrel was really far too logical.

We rode along a few more minutes in silence, and I’m sure Kestrel was listening as hard as I was, despite her light words. I was just starting to relax, thinking if anything was out there, it would’ve made another noise by now, when a loud crack ricocheted toward us.

A branch broke under the weight of the snow, Kestrel said hastily.

I tried to peer between the trees surrounding us, but couldn’t see a thing. The snowflakes were bigger than ever, and the tree trunks remained mere hints of shadows.

I sent a quick thought to Twilight, asking her to investigate. She accepted the mission with enthusiasm. There’s nothing she likes more than a bit of trouble – though she calls it excitement. As she stalked silent through