It Began With a Dream, VIII

She didn’t see the other horse coming in her direction and nearly crashed into her. The horse neighed and moved nervously in the pathway, running back and forth. She reached a hand out to her, and she came to her, nuzzling her hand. Even through the blood covering her , Nadalia knew who it was. Opal. She’d cared for Opal many times before when she’d been a stable hand, and she’d missed being with the horse. Opal had been her father’s horse before she was stolen away by the soldiers. She was the only living connection Nadalia had with her parents, and although she’d been a filly when she was taken, Nadalia was sure the horse remembered her families kindness.

Opal let her stroke her a few times and she buried her head into the mare’s head. Opal’s backside was badly wounded from the whip, and she had blood on her muzzle. “Oh Opal! What did he do to you?”

Opal nudged her, and she looked back towards the wagon. It wouldn’t really take all that long for someone to come for Master Grenlins, and she wanted to be a long ways from here when they did. She could ride Opal to get away faster, but the horse was pretty injured. Still, if they found Opal, they would likely put her down and that was the last thing Nadalia wanted to happen.

Opal nudged her shoulder, then looked down the trail, as though communicating to Nadalia what she needed to do. Nadalia took a deep breath and gently climbed up on the horse, trying to avoid her deep cuts as much as she could. Opal flinched, but then seemed to relax as she settled on to her back.

Soon, they were headed down the trail. Nadalia was surprised by Opal’s speed but she knew the horse must want to get away as badly as she did. She wasn’t even sure where they were headed, but Opal seemed to know. For a moment, there was hope she would finally have her freedom. With a little luck, they both would.

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