I am terrified that people will hear us as we clatter down the streets, but no one stirs. As we gallop, the scene changes - now grassy moorland, towering trees. I had realised i had lived close the the edge of London, but not this close . The horse's hooves are dampened as he runs on soft grass. I feel free here.
I begin to relax. The horse slows, to a canter then to a bouncy trot. My thighs ache already from the strange position. The horse drops his head to graze - the sudden movement takes by surprise and I catapult over his head on to the grass. He looks at me quizzically, and I burst out laughing. He nickers, then drops his head again. I realise I am hungry. I dig in my pocket and remove some coins. £1.78. Enough for a sandwich? Realising there are no shops, I curse under my breath. How will I eat? I remember a trailer I saw in class. The hunger games. Hunting. Carefully, I fashion a bow out of a fallen branch and my laces tied together. It looks nothing like it should, but I suppose it will do. I line it up at a rabbit nibbling grass about 20m away. I pull back and release. My stick flies through the air an lands metres away from the rabbit. The rabbit continues nibbling . I sigh, and sneak forward to retrieve my arrow. When I am about 2 metres away in the long grass, I have an idea. I gather myself up, and leap at the rabbit. I close my hands around it. It struggles violently, refusing to give up, kicking . Suddenly it twists it's head around and sinks it's teeth into my hand. I squeal and let go - the rabbit disappears off, down a hole. Too late for me. I drag myself to my feet, nursing my hand.
I wander back to the horse. I remember - it nee d's a name. Male or female. I check - it is female. I think of a name. Krieger. German for warrior. She lifts her head and nickers at me. She is my way out of here. Already I am hungry. I will ride her out of here. I attempt to climb on her back, but she is too high. I undo my bow and fashion I halter from the string, which I place on her head. I pull her over to a tree. I climb it, and lower myself onto her back. She starts, but remains still. I entwine my fingers in her mane, and kick her gently. She walks forward. I kick again. She trots. Soon we are cantering away from London again, in to a new place.
