Post by euphonium on Jun 10, 2008 5:35:55 GMT -5
“In the rolling hills of northeastern Virginia, Marion Fleming, “the horse lady,” works her magic at Heartland, a rescue horse for horses, ponies, and donkeys. Horses come here to be healed and to have the scars of the past lifted away.
Marion Fleming, once one of the world’s finest female show jumpers, started Heartland following the breakup of her marriage twelve years ago. A fall at the show-jumping World Championships left her husband, British show jumper Tim Fleming, in a wheelchair and unable to ride again. The couple separated soon after.
With its thirty stalls, Heartland is a recovery center for horses that have been rescued from dreadful neglect or physical cruelty. Horses that have been deemed dangerous and unrideable or that have nowhere else to go have a chance at Heartland. In treating these horses, Marion uses a mixture of conventional veterinaty medicine and other remedies she learned while nursing the great Pegasus back to physical and mental health. With patience and compassion, Marion Fleming finds ways to reach these horses. When they get better, concerted efforts are made to find each horse a new and permanent home…”Horse Life Article
Less than 7 hours after reading this…
“The Mallens’ horse!” Amy gasped, sliding off Sundance. “They’ve gone, but it’s shut up in a barn outside their house. Mom! You’ve got to help!”
“It’s been abandoned?” Marion said.
Amy nodded. “We’ve got to go and get it!”
Marion looked at the rain pouring down around them. “We can’t take the trailer out in this, Amy! The roads on Clairdale Ridge are so steep and narrow. It would be too dangerous.”
Amy pushed away the picture of the forbidding tunnel of trees high up on the ridge. “But we can’t leave that horse shut in for another night!” she cried. “It hasn’t got food or water or anything”
“Nothing?” Marion said quickly.
Amy shook her head. “He’s terrified, Mom! If a storm starts, he might try to break free!”
Marion paused as she made up her mind. “OK, we’ll go get it,” she said decisively. Her voice became brisk and efficient,. “You put the ponies away and get a bucket of food for the stallion. I’ll get the trailer out.” She hurried off. “See you in a minute.”
“Here!” Soraya said, reaching to take Sundance’s reigns off Amy. “You go. I’ll put Sundance and Jasmine away. I’d better not come with you. Dad will be here to pick me up soon.” Amy hesitated for a moment. “Go on!” Soraya urged. “You can call me tonight and tell me how it goes.”
“OK! Thanks!” Amy gasped. Turning, she ran after her mom.
Ω
As they drove out of Heartland, the weather seemed to get even worse. The sky was heavy and dark gray. The windshield wipers squeaked rymtmically back and forth, barely making a break in the sheeting rain. The tires splashed noisily though the water on the road.
Amy shivered in her damp clothes. “Why do you think the Mallens left him, Mom?”
Marion shook her head, her eyes glued to the road. “I guess he might have been stolen, and before they found someone to sell him to, they got scared. Maybe the police had been asking around.”
“I can’t believe they could just abandon him like that!” Amy exclaimed. “He could have starved to death.”
Marion looked grim as she turned the trailer onto the steep, winding road that led up Clairdale Ridge. “Some people don’t care about things like that.” The engine clunked as she lowered it a gear to negotiate the sharp bends. Water was running in streams down the road.
They headed into the gloomy tunnerl of trees. The truck and trailer crawled around the tight bends. A branch cracked loudly nd thudded onto the roof. Amy jumped. She didn’t like this dark passageway one bit. A tree creaked alarmingly as they passed. Amy gripped the seat and concentrated on rescueing the horse.
At last they emerged into the open. “I can hardly see a thing,” Marion said as heavy rain hit the windshield again.
Amy peered through the blur, searching for the drive that led up to the farmhouse. “There! There’s the turn. Not far now, Mom.”
The truck splashed along the rutted driveway. Marion stopped it outside the house and, leaving the headlights on to illuminate their way, she jumped out. Amy grabbed the halter and lead rope from the seat beside her while Marion put the trailer rap down. “Which building is it?” she called to Amy.
“That one!” Amy shouted, raising her voice above the wind.
They staggered through the rain to the barn. After Marion pulled back the bolt, they heaved the door open together so it stood slightly ajar. Amy looked in. The bay stallion stared at them, head up, nostrils flaring, eyes wild. Marion looked at him for a moment and then, turning her back into the wind, took out a small contained from her pocket. From it she took a pinch of dark, gritty dust and rubbed it on her hands. “Stand back a bit,” she said softly to Amy.
Amy did as she was told, and Marion squeezed through the gap in the door. The horse moved uneasily on the spot, his ears back. Turning herself sideways toward him. Marion looked at the floor, knowing eye contact could agitate horses. The stallion regarded her warily. Very slowly she held out her hand. The bay began to jerk his head back, but then he seemed to catch the scent of the powder. His nostrils flared and he inhaled, his ears suddenly pricking up.
Amy held her breath. The powder was made from trimmings of chestnut – insensitive callous growths found on the inside of horses’ legs. An old horseman had once taught Marion that the scent could calm nervous and frightened horses. Now, shivering in the doorway, Amy watched to see what would happen.
Very cautiously, the horse stretched out his head. Marion stayed absolutely motionless, still looking down. I am no threat, her body language seemed to be saying. The horse took a step forward, all the time breathing in. His delicate muzzle touched Marion’s hand, his nostrils dilating. He took another step forward and lifted his head to her hair, breathing in and then out.
Very slowly, Amy saw her mom turn, and as the stallion breathed in, the fear left his eyes. His muscles relaxed, and lowering his head, he nuzzled Marion’s hand. She stoked him. “Pass me the halter,” she said quietly to Amy.
Without the slightest objection, the horse let Marion slip on the halter. She patted him. “Come on, boy, let’s get you into the trailer.”
Amy heaved the door open. The horse obediently followed Marion out into the sheeting rain. Amy patted him and he nuzzled her arm. Now that his initial fear was gone, he seemed friendly, even affectionate.
When they reached the trailer, she stood on the ramp and rattled a feed bucker. The horse stretched out his head and neck and gobbled a mouthful. Then, with no more prompting, he walked calmly into the box. Amy put down the bucket to let him eat, and then, leaving her mom to tie him up, she slipped out of the side door to heave the ramp up. Her wet fingers slipped as she fastened the bolts. The wind and rain lashed down. At last Marion emerged. “Home,” she said, coming around to check the bolts. “And fast.”
Their faces were streaming with water as they climbed back into the truck. Marion turned the key and the engine spluttered to life. Amy shivered and squeezed water from her hair. Marion turned on the heater. It roared noisily, competing with the sound of the rain. They could hear the stallion move uneasily in the back as the rain battered the roof of the trailer.
Outside there was an ominous rumbling. Seconds later, a jagged fork of lightning split the sky and the rain started to sheet down with a new intensity. As they turned onto the steep downhill road, a crack of thunder broke over them.
The horse began to panic. His feet thudded against the side of the box, causing it to rock alarmingly. Amy glanced anxiously at her mother. The truck was gathering speed as it headed down the hill. Marion was concentrating hard, braking slowly and steadily to keep the trailer under control on the wet road.
“This is insane,” muttered Marion. “We should never have done this, Amy. Not in this storm.” Her eyes showed her anxiety as she gripped the steering wheel tightly.
Amy jumped as lightning forked straight down through the sky, accompanied by an immense clap of thunder. The stallion’s hooves crashed into the walls of the trailer again and again as he struggled to escape.
The tunnel of dark trees loomed ahead. As they entered, braches closed over the top of the trailer, banging and scrapping against it. Every muscle in Amy’s body was tense. Her heart was pounding. Her breath was short in her throat.
The trees on each side of them swayed as the unrelenting wind and rain bent them against their will. The road seemed pitch-black beneath the tree canopy. Then there was a brilliant flash of lightning and a clap of thunder so loud that it sounded as if a cannon had gone off overhead. Amy screamed and jumped. The horse let out a shriek as a cracking noise echoed though the tunnel.
Marion braked violently, but the tires failed to grip on the flooded surface. The truck skidded down the road, straight into the path of the falling tree.
Time slowed down. Powerless to do anything, Amy watched as the tree fell towards them in horrifyingly slow motion. For one wild moment she thought they were going to get past it, but then, with a final creaking, crashing noise, the tree collapsed.
With startling clarity, in a single second that seemed to last forever, Amy saw every little detail, every vein of every green, damp leaf. “Mom!” she screamed.
There was a bang, a sickening feeling of falling, and then nothing.
Ω
Now, over a year later. Amy has worked on getting passed what has happened and has taken over, in her mothers shoes as the healer of Hearland. But will things ever be the same? Find out and help Amy heal the
This is a cannon based RPG based on the Heartland series by Lauren Brooke. You don’t have to know the books to fit in, as non-cannons are allowed. Cannons are almost always available! The plot line is direct copyright of the first book she wrote. I did not write it. As well as the cannons, they are copyright of hers as well.
