The Herd

She appeared in the school car park, right in front of the car, swishing her tail.

Connie was looking directly at her but no one else noticed. They never did.

Connie's dad was shouting at her 'Get out of the bloody car'

This one looked sad, Connie thought, distracted, as she observed the forlorn equine figure. She was trying to ignore her dad's protests. There were no obvious injuries at first glance. No easy fix.

'Come on, your already late' her father persisted, holding the door firmly open.

Connie used to be out of the car and through the gates before her dad could so much as park, with no backward glance, but things were different now.

Connie slowly gathered up her school bag, her books messily piled inside, still watching the mare, but half-heartedly focused on getting into school.

Gradually, Connie climbed out of the back seat.

Her father watched on, his irritation bristling visibly as he impatiently held the door open, willing his daughter out.

He sighed in relief as Connie finally disappeared through the school gates. But he didn't notice that she detoured, caressing the withers of the mare as she passed.

'Its okay' she whispered. Her ears twitched in response, neither forward nor back, just uncertain.

'CONCENTRATE Connie, where is your copy of Richard III'? boomed the teacher.

He taught English and regarded Connie as one of his best students.

Connie rummaged through her jumble of books, her teacher glaring at her. She discovered her copy of Richard III under apples, treats, empty bags and a pencil case. She opened it and sneakily looked to see what page her classmates were on.

The class settled down to discuss how the heck Richard III managed to woo Lady Anne in front of her father-in-law's corpse shortly after killing the old man and her husband?

Connie tries to blank out the hideous story, and all the while, had half an eye on the mare; she was by the classroom window now, flicking her tail, her neck stooped to the floor. Everyone else carried on reading, discussing and considering Lady Anne. All except Connie.

'Neglect maybe' Connie thought as she finally left the classroom and felt the grazes throughout the mare's neck.

Connie lost her mother on July 1st; it was a beautiful day.

It was a relief when school was over nowadays, a chance to focus on the herd. The new arrival was under the tree just outside her house now, looking anxious, stamping as though a fly was bothering her.

After study, as soon as she could escape her father's stare, she went over to her.

On closer inspection, she was thin, covered in cuts and scars. 'An easy one to remedy' Connie thought, and set to work.

She tended her wounds, fed her apples from the fruit tree, groomed her, until coat felt soft, detangled her mane and tail, wiped her fly ridden eyes.

Gradually her ears crooked back gently, kindly, appreciatively. Her breathing slowed as she relaxed.

Then as typical, she started to fade away...

Connie ran back to her room, glancing back as the apparition disappeared, and picked up her drawings.

'Get off your bed and wash your bloody hair'

Connie's dad tried to keep her in order. She lay on her bed late into the night, her mousy hair tied in a messy bunch, her green eyes fixated on her drawings. Her pencil scribbled relentlessly until the images were perfect.