Page 179 of Wind Rider

Ghost squealed a challenge as he flew forward, tearing the earth as he pounded after the three stallions, weaving through the trees with such speed that River could only duck her head against low-hanging branches and hold on.

The cross timber line gave way to the mouth of the wide, lush Foal Valley bordering the Rock Mountains. As they entered the valley River could see, far in the distance, the colorful crowd that waited at the finish with purple flags streaming in a line clearly marking the end.

Bard was at least seven lengths ahead, with Hobbs and Red running together three or four lengths behind and gaining on him.

Ghost attacked the ground, stretching his stride to a seemingly impossible length. The wind whipped past River’s face, causing tears to cascade from her eyes, but she leaned low, calling encouragement to the stallion.

Hobbs pulled away from Red and caught Bard first. There was a pause, and then Hobbs passed the laboring black stallion. River saw Clayton startle—he sat straight up, causing Bard’s stride to falter. Then Clayton reached up under his tunic, pulling a thick length of stick from his waistbelt, which he raised and began cruelly striking Bard across the rump.

River didn’t need to be bonded with Ghost to understand his reaction. The magnificent stallion bellowed with rage and he miraculously increased his speed, easily passing Red.

Then they were gaining on Bard. Clayton was still whipping the stallion, and the brave black was trying valiantly to increase his speed, but River could see that he was at the point of exhaustion, and as they drew alongside Bard, River kneed Ghost closer to Clayton.

Clayton looked at her then. His face was red with anger; his teeth were bared in a feral grimace.

For just an instant River met his gaze. Then,“Go, Ghost! Go!”she shouted, and the mighty stallion somehow found a reserve of strength and blazed ahead of Bard—and as he did River spat back at Clayton, hitting him in his scarlet face.

Then she turned her back on Clayton—and closed her mind to him forever as well.

She could hear the shouts of the watching crowd as she leaned low against Ghost’s neck, grasping his silver mane in both hands, urging him forward with faith and love and joy.

They caught Hobbs so quickly that she only had a moment to see Regis’s startled expression as Ghost blew past him—and then there was nothing before them except wide, flat valley and the cheers of their Herd.

Ghost didn’t slow. He found more strength—more speed—as if the cheers ofhisHerd had restored his exhausted body, and by the time he and River thundered across the finish line his lead had grown to thirty-one lengths.

River sat up, lifting her arms in victory while the Herd cheered. She cued Ghost to slow gently, guiding him into a wide circle that looped them past the entrance to the main Rock Mountain passage.

She didn’t notice the strangers at first; she was too busy stroking Ghost’s neck and telling the stallion how completely magnificent he was. River didn’t even understand something was wrong when Ghost staggered to a stop and lifted his head, blowing hard and scenting the air.

She felt his entire body tense just before he trumpeted a call that was filled with joy—complete joy.

River laughed and leaned forward to hug his sweat-drenched neck.

“That’s right! You won! You are Lead Stallion!”

But instead of turning to trot back to the celebrating Herd, Ghost leaped forward into a gallop, shocking River so completely that she had to scramble not to slide off his back.

“Hey, you’re done. Everything’s fine,” she tried to soothe the stallion, cuing him with her heels to stop.

He completely ignored her.

Strangers!

Anjo’s voice was inside her head and had River looking behind her for her mare, who was racing for her, with April clinging to her back. Her sister was shouting and pointing at the mountains.

At first River didn’t understand. She peered at the mountains, which Ghost was galloping toward, squinting against the sun that was just setting behind them, and then her eyes caught movement and she saw that a group of several people, perhaps thirty or forty, were pouring from the pass—and Ghost was heading directly for them.

***

Mari was filled with equal measures of joy and exhaustion as the Pack staggered down the last steps of the Rock Mountain pass. The steep path opened to greet a valley, green as their forest they’d left so, so far behind. Just the sight of the flat, verdant land gave the Pack the injection of energy they needed, and they gathered around Antreas excitedly.

“Is this really it? Really the Plains of the Wind Riders?” Danita asked.

Antreas slid his arm around her. “It really is.”

“Oh, Dove, I wish you could see it,” Lily gushed. She and Dove were at the front of the Pack, because since Dash had Chosen her, Lily had taken to walking beside Sora and Mari; she liked to talk puppy with Sora and healing with Mari. Currently, Dove and Lily were standing next to Mari. She had just rechecked the splint on Dash’s leg, declaring to Lily’s delight that he would probably only need to wear it for two more weeks.

“I’m sure it is quite lovely.” The irritated tone of Dove’s answer caught Mari by surprise. Over the course of their long journey Dove had proven herself to be extremely kind. Mari had never heard her speak to Lily inanger, but when Mari studied the blind girl’s face she saw that it was unusually pale. She looked obviously tense—upset even.