Page 6 of Wind Rider

“Oh, I’ll be right beside you, but today isyourday, and Echo and I wish to honor you.”

“Thank you, Mother. Thank you, Echo. I—I just hope I don’t let you down.”

Echo snorted at River and swished her tail.

“I agree,” her mother said. “Echo and I have no time for that kind ofnegativity. Daughter, you need to remember that you are enough—just as you are at this moment. Anything else is simply extra blessings from the Great Mother Mare. Now, hurry and mount. You’re going to be late!” she finished with a teasing smile.

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” River grumbled as she approached Echo, fisted a handful of shining white mane entwined with purple ribbons, and easily mounted.

Echo stood and her mother moved up to the mare’s head. When she began walking, Echo did too. Heads held high, the Lead Mare Rider and the Lead Mare for Herd Magenti radiated beauty and strength. Automatically, River straightened her spine even as she sat deep, lightly gripping the mare’s sides with her thighs—her bare skin dark against Echo’s silver-white coat—River knew she and the mare looked striking together. Even walking Echo had an undeniable grace and River’s heart swelled with pride as they entered the path that led to the huge outdoor Choosing Theater and then paused at the opening as first River’s aunt caught sight of them.

“It’s River on Echo! Herd Magenti!”

“Herd Magenti!”

“River and our Echo! Herd Magenti!”

The cheers lifted around them and Echo arched her neck, prancing in place.

“Go ahead, my beauty—take River to her spot,” Dawn said, stroking her mare’s neck. She looked up at her daughter, pride shining in her eyes. “Hold tight. Echo likes to show off. Sit tall and proud so that all the Herds might see the pride she and I have in you. Echo and I wish you a mare’s luck, Daughter.”

River started to thank her mother, but Echo had decided she was finished with waiting. Tail lifted, the exquisite mare shot onto the flat, grassy field, galloping around the circle already formed by those being Presented as all of Herd Magenti, and several of the other Herds as well, cheered her on. River felt as if she were flying. She could see that the rows of stone seats that rose tier after tier up from the floor of the theater were completely filled with people, all dressed in their finest, draped inribbons and beads and jewelry in their Herd’s color. All around the rear circumference of the theater horses stood, ears pricked forward—waiting and watching with such joyful anticipation that River could swear she could taste its sweetness on the breeze.

Echo slid to a stop before the group of Candidates decorated in Magenti purple and River quickly dismounted, hugged the silver mare, and then took her place with the others from her Herd.

“Finally! We thought something had happened and you were going to miss it,” said her Herdmate, Skye, as she moved to make room for River.

“Mother had to be sure everything was perfect. Is Herd Cinnebar’s Lead Daughter here yet?”

“Yes. You’re the last to arrive.”

River nodded, but said nothing. Her mother had decided when she would arrive, but there was no point in explaining that to Skye. Instead, River looked around the huge circle of Candidates. They were grouped together—purple, blue, red, yellow, and green, and they were obviously trying, with little success, not to look nervous… or terrified.

River turned to Skye. “May a mare’s luck be with you today.”

“Um, thanks. You, too,” Skye responded insincerely.

Unfazed, River turned to the boy on her left. She recognized him as Clayton’s cousin, Rex. “May a mare’s luck be with you today, Rex,” she said.

“Oh, thank you, River.” He wiped sweat from his brow. “I just wish we’d get this over with. The waiting is horrible. Have you heard the count?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“There are one hundred and twenty-nine Candidates and onlyninty-nineweanlings. That meansthirtyof us are not going to be Riders,” Rex said miserably, wiping more sweat from his face.

“Only ninety-nine weanlings? The last count I heard was about one hundred and five or so. What happened?” She spoke aloud, but the real person she wanted to ask about the number disparity was her mother.Why didn’t anyone tell me several weanlings were missing?

“They’re from Herd Jonquil. Seems the weanlings somehow got into a clump of arrowgrass on the way here.”

“Arrowgrass? That’s awful! Did they survive?”

“Yes, thank the Great Mother Mare, but they’re too weak to be at the Choosing. In a few weeks Jonquil will have a special Rendezvous and any leftover Candidates may attend. I can’t believe you didn’t hear about this.”

“I’ve been spending a lot of time by myself since we got here—you know, meditating and preparing. I suppose no one thought to—”

Her words broke off as an ancient mare trotted stiffly onto the Choosing Theater field. Her Rider was as old and as gray as her horse—and as recognizable. Morgana was the eldest member of the Mare Council. She was Rider to Ramoth—some say the oldest mare in all the Herds. No one knew the exact age of mareorRider, but their combined wisdom was legendary.

Rider and mare wore ribbons from all five Herds, signifying they were part of the Mare Council. The Candidates bowed respectfully, then the old woman raised her hand and the crowd went silent.