Mystic and Blaze

In the sunlight the mare’s coat was darker than Issie had first thought, a deep liver chestnut. Her mane and tail were a light shade of honey, almost flaxen blonde. Looking down at her legs, Issie could see that she did indeed have four white socks. In fact, the two hind socks were almost stockings – running all the way right up to her hocks, while the white blaze which began as a large star on her forehead continued in a slender streak all the way down her face to her velvety nostrils where it finally tapered away.

“She’s beautiful, Tom,” Issie breathed softly.

“We’ll have to keep her in the pen for a couple of days or so, I’m afraid,” Avery said briskly. “She’s too weak to be let loose to graze with the other horses at this stage. If they took to her she’d never survive the fight. I’ll try and sort out the grazing so she can have a paddock to herself in a day or two and in the meantime you’ll have to start bulking her up on hard feed and hay.”

Avery looked concerned. “We’re talking about more than a physical problem with this mare though, Issie. It’s her mind that needs the most care. She’s been through a lot. Whoever owned her must have abused her terribly. She doesn’t know how to trust people any more. And it’s going to take a lot of work and patience to win back that trust.

“Might as well get to work on the physical stuff straight away though, eh?” Avery pointed to Issie’s grooming kit and gave her a knowing grin. “I’ll bet there’s a decent coat under all that mud, so get to it! I’ve got to dash. You need to spend some time, to know her better. And,” Avery added, “of course you’ll need to talk to your mum about things too – but I’m sure she’ll be fine about it, won’t she?”

Issie was about to respond to this and point out that, actually, her mum wouldn’t be fine about it at all. But Avery wasn’t listening.

“Excellent then! Right. I’m off. I’ll check up on you both next week.”

And with that, Avery backed the truck out of the gate and left Issie standing there open-mouthed.

Issie stood there for a moment longer, watching the truck as it became smaller in the distance. Then she turned back to the horse and reached for her bucket of grooming brushes. As she lifted the dandy brush towards Blaze to scuff off the dried mud, the pony let out a terrified snort and pulled back hard against the rope, her eyes wild with fear.

“Easy, girl, I’m not going to hurt you,” Issie murmured. She put the brush down and reached her hand up to stroke Blaze’s neck and calm her down. But the mare wasn’t having any of it. She backed up, straining against the rope, her ears flat back against her head.

Issie felt terrible. She knew Blaze wasn’t acting up on purpose. It was simply that the poor horse had been so badly abused in the past she was scared of being touched. Issie realised it was only natural that Blaze would be scared of her too, but it still hurt.

Once more she moved slowly towards the horse, and Blaze backed even further away, letting out a low, long snort of terror.

“Blaze! How can I brush you if you won’t even let me get near you?” Issie pleaded, close to despair. Then she had an idea. In the tack room there were three large bins of hard feed for the horses, the first two filled with oats and chaff and the third with pony pellets. Issie grabbed a handful of these and walked back over to Blaze.

This time the nervous chestnut didn’t back away. She sniffed the air, then stretched out her long, elegant neck as far as she could without actually stepping forward. Food. She could smell it all right. But was she brave enough to take it? Still not moving a single hoof, the mare craned her neck even further, then used her rubbery lips to stretch out and snuffle up the pellets out of Issie’s hand.

“Good girl, Blaze,” Issie murmured, reaching her hand out once more to stroke the horse. Blaze let Issie’s fingertips graze against her mud-coated neck before she backed up once again, heaving with fear.

“Easy, girl, it’s OK,” Issie said, backing away herself, admitting defeat. She went back to the tack room a second time, but when she emerged again she wasn’t carrying a handful of pellets, but a slice of hay. Stuffing the hay into the hay net in the far corner of the pen, she managed to get close enough to Blaze to unclasp the lead rope from her halter so that she was free to go and feed.

“I think we’ve done enough for one day, hey, girl?” Issie spoke gently to the mare. But inside she wasn’t feeling so great about her first meeting with her new horse. How was she expected to feel when Blaze wouldn’t even let her pat her?

She stood and watched as the mare nervously ate her hay. One thing was certain: this wasn’t going to be easy.

CHAPTER 7 (#ulink_6b51672f-498e-5b5c-ae93-0e823b93d6e8)

“Issie! Issie! I’ve got to talk to you…” Stella was panting from the effort of trying to catch up with her friend as she entered the school hall. It was Tuesday, assembly day, and they were late as always.

“Quick,” Stella grabbed Issie by her school jersey as she caught her up, “let’s sit up the back so we can talk.”

She pushed through the herds of Chevalier Point High students trying to find seats and made a beeline for the back benches, dragging Issie along behind her. “Here!” Stella squeaked, claiming two spaces on a bench at the far end of the hall by throwing herself down and using her bag to mark a place next to her for Issie.

“So,” she grinned as Issie sat down, “I know you don’t want to talk about horses any more, but this isn’t just about horses. It’s like a mystery or something…” She paused for dramatic effect, lowering her voice to a whisper. “There’s this new pony grazing at the pony-club paddocks and no one knows who it belongs to!”

Issie tried to speak, but before she could open her mouth Stella was rambling on again. “You should see this horse, Issie, she’s beautiful. Part Arab I think, well, she looks like an Arab anyway. She’s sort of a dark chestnut colour with a pale mane and tail, and white socks, totally gorgeous. She’s really skinny and stuff but apart from that she’s, like, the most amazing horse you’ve ever seen.” Stella paused for just a minute to take a breath and then started raving on again.

“I’ve asked everyone at the pony club and no one seems to know who owns her. Kate thinks maybe she belongs to Natasha—”

“No she doesn’t!” Issie snapped, fed up with Stella’s chatter. “She belongs to me. She’s mine.”

“What?” Stella squealed. Instead of shutting her up it seemed that this news had her more excited than ever before.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Issie! Where did she come from? How could you possibly afford her? Did your mum cave in and buy her for you after all? What’s her name?”

“Her name is Blaze,” Issie muttered under her breath. She could see Mrs Savage, the fourth form dean, glaring at her now. If they kept on talking during assembly then she and Stella were bound to get detention. “And Mum doesn’t even know about her. I can’t tell you any more now. It’s too complicated. I’ll explain after assembly – at lunch break.”

At lunchtime, Issie was on her way to the tuck shop to get a fruit pie when she was almost tackled from behind. “Gotcha!” Stella giggled, her arms around Issie’s waist. “Now, come on. Tell me what’s going on. I’m not letting go until you do.”

And so Issie told Stella the whole story—how Avery had found Blaze in a terrible state and brought her to Issie, who had agreed to take on the chestnut mare and nurse her back to health.

“And the worst thing is, she just doesn’t trust people,” Issie said. “Avery said I can ride her soon because she’s putting on weight, but I don’t want to rush things…It took me a week before she would let me brush the mud off her! She’s been so scared, Stella!”

“Oh, Issie, how dreadful!” Stella’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Poor Blaze. She must have been so badly mistreated by her old owners. That’s why she’s being so difficult. I’m sure you’ll make friends with her if you just keep trying. You can’t give up on her. She needs you.

Stella was buzzing with excitement. “I can’t believe you’ve been keeping Blaze to yourself all this time too! We’ve got to go and find Kate and tell her all about it. She’s been dying to discover who owned the mystery horse. We’ll both meet you at the paddock after school.”

When Stella and Kate arrived later that afternoon Issie had already caught Blaze and was tying her to the fence, preparing to groom her.

“She’s beautiful!” Stella was breathless with admiration. It was the first time the girls had seen Blaze up close and even cool Kate was impressed.

“She’s got wonderful conformation,” she admitted as she ran her eye over the mare’s elegant arched neck, “and what a gorgeous face with that fantastic white blaze! Blaze is the perfect name for her.”

“You’re right, Issie, she must be part Arab,” Stella agreed. “Look at her lovely dished nose. I wonder if she has breeder’s papers?”

“I don’t know,” Issie said. “We don’t even know who her old owners were, so there’s no way of finding out what her bloodlines are.”

“Who could be so cruel, treating a horse like that?” Kate shook her head. “Does Avery have any leads to find the old owners?”

“Not yet,” Issie said, “but he’s reported it to the police so they might come up with something. Anyway,” Issie turned to Blaze, “you’re safe with me now, girl; I’m going to take good care of you.”

“Well,” Stella said, “I think it’s time for Blaze to meet the boys.” She turned to Kate. “Come on, let’s go catch Toby and Coco and do some proper introductions.”

The two girls grabbed their halters out of the tack room and set out across the paddock, leaving Issie alone again with Blaze.

“Good girl,” Issie cooed, reaching out to stroke the mare on her neck. But Blaze made a low snorting sound and quickly backed away. Issie knew better by now than to be disappointed by the mare’s behaviour. It was nothing personal; she understood that. Blaze’s last owners were cruel to her, so why should she trust anyone?

Issie had been taking it slowly with the mare, trying to gain her trust. Now, as she moved towards Blaze, she didn’t pick up a brush straight away. Instead, she reached out an open hand and stroked her wither. The chestnut leapt away at first, but as Issie tried again and again she finally stood still, letting the girl run her hands gently across her glossy neck, back over the wither and down her front legs, feeling tendon and fetlock, then back up again and along her rump and hindquarters, softly talking to the mare as she went.

All the time, Issie kept her gaze low and never looked Blaze in the eye. The stroking was something she had learnt in Avery’s natural horsemanship classes. Avery had also told her to keep her eyes down – horses are prey animals, and being met by the stare of a human predator was liable to spook them.

By the time Issie lifted up the dandy brush, she was thrilled to see that Blaze was almost relaxed under her hands. In fact, once Issie had scuffed the caked mud off her hocks and began to work on her with the body brush, the mare even seemed to enjoy the feeling of the soft bristles against her skin. When Issie took a thick, damp sponge and ran it down the white stripe in the middle of her forehead, Blaze gave a grunt of pleasure and lowered her head against Issie, using the girl as her scratching post, rubbing up and down against her.

“Hey,” Issie giggled. “Cut it out!” But inside she was pleased to see Blaze acting so friendly with her. She was starting to trust her.

“Hey, Issie,” Stella said as she led Coco up, tying her to the fence next to Blaze, “do you know those men:

“What men?”