The Hidden Valley

Chapter 3: Lost

As autumn started, the leaves weren't the only thing falling; rain bucketed down quite often.

And as Quail grew older, her markings started to show better on her lovely coat, little white dapples, like feathers, spotted it. Her mane and tail began to grow out, her mother was also starting to leave her side, trusting her foal to be able to fend for herself, and the humans had started coming near her more. Their peculiar habits made her uneasy. Sometimes they would stroke her side, or chuck water on her and groom her fur.

Wattle had said that it was completely normal, so Quail put up with it.

A good thing though, was that the humans were letting her see the other racehorses and their foals. They would often gather in the paddock with the gurgling river. The one she had been put in for the first few weeks of her life.

The foals she had met so far were a little brown filly, named Whisper, who, as the name suggested, was a bit quiet, a black colt named Ash, who liked to pick on others, a black pedigree Arabian filly named Pepper, who wanted to be a racehorse, and a white colt named Snow Gum, who was kind.

As she listed the foals' names and personalities in her head, she didn't realize that a sprint to the large river had started, and the foals were already racing off. As she finished her list, she became aware that no one was there.

Wattle and the other racehorses had already set off down the west side of the paddock, furthest from the river.

She stood there, not knowing what she could do. "I should try and track them!" she thought excitedly to herself after a bit of pondering.

Maybe that was a skill that the racehorses needed. Her mother had not talked to her about the racehorse life, just little things here and there.

At the moment she was standing in the shade of a pine tree. The last rays of the sun moved the pine's shadow like a long finger, inching slowly up the slope.

She started to sniff the air, checking if she could pick their sent up. As she breathed the clear air in, she noticed that she could indeed smell them.

Their scents led up the slope and through a particularly dense patch of rushers.

She trotted up, and carefully parted the plants. But there was a reason the rushers were so dense; the ground was boggy and slugged under hoof. A little spring run through the ground. The sound of the green frogs creaking around her, and the rushers' long sharp leaves cut her sometimes as she continued to walk through them, doing her best to track her friends wavering scents.

How was she going to find them now? Their scent had disappeared as they entered a practically muddy area.

Hoof marks! The idea popped into her head, and she began to search the mud. She trudged through the slop for a while, the marks of her friends' hooves were quite hard to find.

She came across many kangaroos, who grazed on the sweet snowgrass which was ample at this time of year.

Eventually, she found a small track, leading in the direction of the river. "Of course," she muttered to herself, half annoyed, half proud.

Bounding down the slope toward the river, she felt a surge of triumph. Her gleaming coat shone orange in the sinking rays of the sun, and her dapples stood out like the moon in the night sky. Her muscles moved smoothly beneath her skin, rippling as she pranced happily, head arched, tail high. What a beautiful horse she was becoming, and intelligent.

The other foals, as she had predicted, were wading in the shallows of the river, leaping, and splashing each other. Quail felt a twinge of annoyance that they hadn't even bothered to look for her. And as she came beneath the oak that shaded the river, she purposely crunched a twig under her hoof.

Whisper turned around, she had not been playing, just sitting in the shade of silver princes a bit further down. "Finally," Whisper stretched and got to her feet, arching her neck, and flicking her tail before joining Quail in the shade of the large oak. "We were getting worried."

Quail flicked her ears proudly, feeling seemlier. "I tracked you silly foals through the paddock."

"All the way through?" Whisper asked quietly eye rounded like the moon.

Quail nodded happily and her mind flicked back to becoming a racehorse.

How glorious it had sounded when Mother told her. The wind streaming through your hair, dirt path beneath your hooves, and the best part was, if you were good, you were recognized for it.

Quail could imagine herself, mane, and tail streaming in the wind that she had created from her speed, legs working rhythmically, eyes glinting with joy. Oh, how lovely it would be. She would make a mother proud. She would make all the horses in the group of which she knew, proud.

Quail started toward the water, flicking her tail for Whisper to follow.

They had fun for ages, frolicking in the shallow parts of the river, dancing in the leaves, listening to the united rustle of the trees as a cool wind swept through them.

They had had so much fun, that they had completely forgotten what time it was, only once the sun had disappeared, did they begin to realize.

"Are you okay?" Whisper asked nuzzling Quail back from her daydream.

"We should head back before it gets too dark to see anything." Snow gum spoke the truth, there wouldn't even be a moon to guide them tonight and there was already limited sun, only the parts that snuck up very rarely.

They all began to trot together, Quail in the lead, knowing the country better than the others.

No one was left behind this time because all of them wanted to be close. With the others close, she began to map out the mammoth paddock in her head, thinking of the best and quickest route to get to their mothers. In the end, she chose to travel along the open plains, which would lead them to the pine tree she'd been to at the start of the day, and then they would go west from there.

Quail was surprised at how quickly, she and the others got tired. Their day near the river had exhausted them, and now they only moved slowly, taking quite a few breaks.

But as the sun completely disappeared, she realized that there was no use. They wouldn't get there, so, stumbling through the darkness, they looked for a place to spend the night.

They came across a little cluster of olive trees with a small sandy dip hidden beneath them. They had only come across it by accidentally falling into it, but it was okay for the night. So, wary and hungry, they began to sleep. Quail woke many times, but only to the creeping, cold darkness.