Tijo had lowered himself to sit astride Estrella and was nocking an arrow in the new bow he had made. He had spotted a red-legged grouse poking its head from its ground nest. It had come out and was running in an attempt to launch itself into flight. Grouse were clumsy runners and poor fliers. But even as clumsy as they were, they had been hard for Tijo to bring down when he had to run after them on foot. He had usually built snares. But now he did not have to run. He signaled Estrella his intentions. She accelerated, and he flattened himself on her back and took the arrow from the bow. He would use it as a spear.
The grouse was no match for Estrella. The moment the bird started to take flight, they were even with him. Tijo leaned down and with one quick jab skewered the bird. Drops of blood spun off into the clear morning air.
“You got it!” Estrella whinnied triumphantly.
“We got it!” Tijo said. Tonight he would have meat, and he would save the feathers and make something lovely for Estrella. Perhaps he could braid them through her mane.
When they returned to the herd, the horses were as jubilant as Tijo and Estrella. They all wanted to carry him on a hunt now.
“Why didn’t you use the bow?” Grullo asked. “You had been practicing with it for so long.”
Tijo laughed. “I blame it on Estrella. She went too fast! Bows are good for long distances. Before I knew it, Estrella and I were practically on top of that bird. I realized that we would have more control if we used the arrow as a spear.”
“We?” Estrella asked. “It was all you, Tijo.”
“No, it’s we. I could never have done this if not for you. If I were on the ground, I could not have run fast enough to even get a shot with my bow. Without your legs, I am just a lame boy.” He looked around at the other horses. “Without any of you, I am less than whole.”
Hold On stepped forward. “And we have become more, too, because of you.”
“The feathers are beautiful, aren’t they?” Tijo plucked one with a barred pattern of brown and black and white from the grouse’s tail and took it to Estrella. “Let me braid it into your mane. It will look so pretty.”
The horses gathered closer and watched Tijo’s nimble fingers plait it into Estrella’s black mane.
“But now you need one, too,” Estrella said.
“I suppose I do.” And he took another feather and twisted it into his own black hair. The horses nickered their approval.
They made camp near a stream. Streams had become more plentiful as they traveled into the high country. The weather turned and ice was beginning to form in patches on the slower-running creeks. Tijo built a small fire and roasted the bird. Between the fire and the bird’s succulent meat, he was getting warm.
Hold On suddenly lifted his head toward the north and peeled back his lips, then snorted.
“What is it?” Estrella asked.
“I smell snow,” Hold On said. “It’s coming our way.” The herd turned toward the north. Heavy blue-gray clouds had begun to roll in. There was a pale halo around the sun, and soon tiny ice crystals were swirling through the air. Tijo felt their sting on his face. The crystals began to grow until they were fat flakes. Estrella glanced at Tijo nervously. Her own coat had already grown thick for winter, but the boy seemed bare, almost naked compared to the horses. He was shivering. She could tell although he tried to hide it by wrapping his arms tightly across his chest.
All the horses looked at Tijo as the snowfall became heavier. Each had heard tales about newborn foals who’d become lost in a blizzard and froze to death. Hold On himself had lost a foal in just this manner when the colt became separated from him and the dam. Estrella knew he must be thinking of that colt now as he walked toward Tijo.
“Tonight I shall sleep lying down,” he announced. “And Tijo will sleep just beside me. He will share my warmth.” The horses neighed approvingly. Most often the horses slept standing up by locking their forelimb joints, the weight-bearing bones.
The horses began to move around. They would settle for a moment and then rearrange themselves. Tijo looked on somewhat confounded. It was not like the other night in the sleeping circle, where they had all settled quite quickly. Hold On would lie down, then rise up again. They were all whinnying and neighing quietly and sometimes giving the horse nearest a gentle nudge with their muzzles.
“Let’s get down to business. Estrella, you go there and Bobtail here,” Yazz ordered.
“What are you doing?” Tijo finally asked.
“Making weather shelter,” Yazz answered. “In cold weather, we come together in standing sleep and press against one another.”
“But the problem is,” Bobtail said, “how do we make one for a boy? We don’t want to crush the poor lad.”
“We don’t do it standing,” Yazz said. “Well, one of us will have to stand and keep alert. But the rest lie down. I’ll show you.”
Yazz began to walk in a tight circle around the campfire. She paused, struck the ground with her tiny hoof, and scraped a mark. “Here, Tijo. This is where you sleep.” She moved back a bit. “And here, Hold On, lie down right here. Now over here, Grullo.” Grullo moved to the spot Yazz had designated. “Verdad, you slip in there between Grullo and Arriero. Good!” Yazz said, surveying the weather shelter. “If any one of you begins to roll over in your sleep, I shall alert Tijo.” She looked up at the snow, which was falling more heavily. “We don’t need to worry about snow accumulating and Tijo being smothered. Your breathing will melt the snow in this circle and protect him.”
It did not take long for all the horses to fall asleep. Tijo heard the rhythmic bellowing of their breaths as their huge chests rose and fell. What power surrounded him. Power and grace. He felt as if he were sheltered in the very heart of all these horses — one immense, beating heart. He looked up. Stray images passed through Tijo’s mind. The snowflakes were large and fluffy and seemed to fall through the darkness like the blossoms from some night-blooming winter flower. A dusty moon rolled out from behind a cloud. For a second or two he thought he saw the shadow of an owl’s wings printed against the moon’s face. An omo owl, perhaps? The wings dissolved into the night. The snow lessened, darkness surged. The moon was naked and silvery. The patches of shadows on its surface appeared to shift slightly, rearranging the moon’s face into a different one. A pair of familiar eyes loomed out. “Haru?” he whispered into the darkness. But there was only silence. Silence and the comforting snores of the herd.
By morning, the landscape had been transformed. Hillocks had disappeared under the thick mantle of snow. The cottonwoods stooped, their snow-laden branches dragging on the ground as if old and lame.
Arriero and Sky set out ahead of the rest of the herd to scout once again for a good water source, one that was not frozen, for the night had been a bitter one. Plumes of snow exploded in their wake.
They had not gone far when Arriero stopped short.
“What is it?” Sky’s withers flinched and a small cascade of snow fell from them. “Another bobcat?” Seconds later he picked up the scent as well. It was slightly familiar.
“Horse!” Arriero said.
“Is it … is it … Pego?” Sky stammered.
“Not exactly,” Arriero said. Ahead was a small bluff. From behind a boulder the gaunt figure of a mare shambled from the shadows of large rocks.
“Bella?” they both said at once. Bella was the mare of Pego, the stallion who had betrayed the first herd.
Sky started to trot toward her.
“Wait! Wait, Sky, it could be a trick.”
The colt immediately stopped. “She looks sick, Arriero.”
The mare caught sight of them and gave a frail whinny. She began to walk toward them and then stumbled.
“She’s alone,” Arriero said. Her own scent was strong, and overpowered any lingering odor of the treacherous Pego. Still, they were wary, and moved slowly as the mare approached.
“Forgive me? Can you forgive me?” Her knees began to buckle and she collapsed on the ground.
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“What happened to your foal?” Arriero asked.
“Dead. Born dead,” she replied weakly.
“And Pego?” Sky asked.
“He left.” Her voice was flat and her eyes dull.
“How could he leave?” Sky asked, his voice full of mingled horror and disbelief.
“I was useless if I couldn’t give him offspring. He’s proud. Proud of his bloodline, you know that. But can you forgive me?”
“For what?” Sky asked. The colt was confused.
“We led you into that canyon … the fire … and … all.” Her voice was growing weaker.
“It was Pego, not you,” Arriero said staunchly.
“I don’t know. I don’t care. I want to die and join my foal. My colt. It was a colt. The vultures came immediately. I fought them off as best I could. But I was too weak. They stripped that bright little fellow to the bone. He had a tawny coat like mine. Only bones left. Only the bones.” Her voice dwindled like a guttering flame.
“You don’t want to die!” Arriero spoke fiercely.
“I am nothing. I am empty.”
Arriero and Sky glanced at each other frantically. “You are something. You can be part of our herd. First herd.”
“We won’t leave you here,” Sky said. “We won’t leave you for the vultures.”
Arriero decided to stay with Bella while Sky raced back to the herd’s meeting place. Tijo had medicines. Medicines had helped Hold On. They could help Bella, thought Sky, shuddering as he tried to wrap his mind around Pego’s cruelty. The stallion’s deceit knew no bounds, and his treachery was never-ending.
“What in the world?” Corazón looked up to see Sky tearing through the snow. He skidded to a stop. His ears were laid flat and he panted several times, catching his breath.
“You won’t believe it!” Sky gasped.
“What?” Grullo asked tensely.
“Bella!”
“Bella.” Angela gave a shrill whinny. “Pego’s mare!”
“Pego’s not with her,” Sky said, still gasping for breath. The horses were pressing around him now. They were nervous, swiveling their ears, peeling back their lips to pick up a scent.
“Where’s Arriero?” Hold On asked in an anxious voice.
“Arriero stayed with Bella …” The colt’s voice seemed to break. “She’s very sick … she might be dying.”
“Her foal. She was expecting a foal,” Corazón said slowly as the memory came back to her.
“The foal was stillborn. That’s why Pego left her. He said she couldn’t give him a good foal.”
“And he abandoned her just like that!” Angela whinnied with disgust.
“Yes,” Sky said grimly. “He left her weak and near death with the dead foal beside her.” The horses stirred and snorted lowly as if trying to explain such behavior to themselves.
Sky looked at Tijo. “Tijo, you must come with your medicine kit. Maybe you can help. Arriero is waiting for you. He did not want Bella to die alone.”
No, thought Tijo. No one should die alone. That’s why he’d followed Haru out from the camps.
“Can I ride you, Estrella?” he asked.
“And I shall go along,” Hold On offered.
Tijo leapt onto Estrella’s back. He must be getting taller, because he no longer needed to stand on a rock to mount. He pressed his knees to Estrella’s sides and galloped off, following Sky through the billowing snow.
“She needs water,” Arriero said to Tijo before he could even slide from Estrella’s back. “There’s a stream over there. It’s not far, but she’s too weak to make it.” Tijo thought for a moment. He had a skin bag made from the bladder of a long-horned sheep that had been slain for the spring festival. He used it to carry smaller bags of powders and potions. The bladder was not as good as the leather buckets used in the village for transporting water, but good enough. He emptied it and they rode to the nearby creek.
“This is a good creek,” Estrella said over the vigorous gurgling. She paused and looked about some more. “We could make camp here. There’s some wind protection from those rocks and the cottonwood on the other side. Yes, it’s a good place, I think.”
Tijo looked around as well. He was thrilled by Estrella’s notion of a winter camp. The snow moons would be coming soon. And he thought of the bitter winds that would come and the marauding wolf storms on their tails.
As he filled the bladder with water, he recalled how angry the healer had been when the chieftain gave it to Haru at the spring festival. It had been her reward to her for curing the chieftain’s wife. The healer had accused Haru of witchcraft, but the chieftain was at heart a sensible man, and so pleased to have his wife healthy again that he paid no attention to the healer’s accusations.
Tijo was not sure how he could get the mare to drink. She lay on the ground in a nearly lifeless heap. Her breath was shallow and there seemed to be long periods when she drew no breaths at all. It reminded Tijo of Haru’s last dying gasps. He worried that the mare could not swallow if she was flat on the ground. He carried a small cup with him, one that Haru had made him when he was a baby. He poured some water into it.
Hold On had knelt down, supporting himself on his forelegs. “Bella,” he said softly. “Bella. We are all here to help you. Can you smell this clean water? You need to drink.” But she said nothing. Her eyes rolled back in her head. Her tongue was parched and hung out of her mouth, the color of stone. “Pour some in her mouth, Tijo.” Hold On said. “It might help. Just a little.”
Tijo did as Hold On suggested. Bella’s eyelids flickered a bit. But how can she swallow? Tijo wondered before an idea struck him.
“Hold On, remember the reeds growing by the creek?”
“I didn’t see them, but I heard the wind blowing through them.”
“Take me back. I have to pick some.”
By the time they returned, the rest of the herd had arrived and were gathered around Bella.
“This poor mare. To be treated so,” Corazón muttered.
“I’m going to try and give her some water with this reed,” Tijo said.
The horses watched the boy suck some water from the bladder with the hollow reed, then hold his fingertip to the end so it would not fall out. Very gently he slid the reed into Bella’s half-open mouth. Keeping his thumb on the end nearest to him, he raised it just a bit and let a tiny amount of water leak into her mouth. He did not want her to choke, so he allowed only the smallest bit to flow.
Soon, the mare raised her head from the ground and blinked. Tijo stroked her gently between the ears. Hold On licked some dust from her face. The mare lay down her head again and shut her eyes, peaceful with the knowledge of the kindness of the herd.
There had been much talk in the recent days of pressing forward to get across the distant mountains before the worst of winter arrived. But Estrella skillfully began to show the rest of the herd reasons for staying on. She had discovered a warm spring where the ground was always free from snow and the fat grass grew quite thickly. Not only that, but there was a broad depression in the ground where the earth was soft and warm. They found it a good place to sleep, especially on the coldest nights, and began calling it the wallow. On another day, Estrella discovered a place where some strange bulbous root vegetables grew. She gnawed on one and found it to have a unique, almost sweet taste. She brought it back and dropped it on the ground in front of Angela, who blinked with surprise and shoved her ears forward.
“Bless my withers, it’s a turnip!” She tossed her head and whinnied. “Corazón, come look!” Corazón trotted over quickly, along with Grullo and Bobtail. The four horses looked in wonder at the bulging pale root that Estrella had found.
“A turnip!” Arriero said, his voice full of wonder and delight.
By this time Sky had arrived. “What’s a turnip?”
“Oh, my,” Corazón said almost mournfully. “The young’uns don’t even know about turnips.”
Hold On trotted toward them. “I smelled it f
rom all the way over there. I can hardly believe it. I haven’t had a turnip since the Old Land. The masters gave them to us as special treats, you know.”
Estrella didn’t know about the masters’ special treats, but she felt there was something very good about this root. “Well, I found it just past where the fat grass grows.”
“You don’t say,” Grullo replied slowly. “You know, we might think about making this our winter camp. We’ve got good water, fat grass, and now turnips.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Arriero said. Estrella was thrilled that it was Grullo who said this and not her. She had planted the seed for this idea, but now the herd was imagining it to be their own.
And so they stayed at this camp. Soon, Bella was well enough to walk to the creek and drink from the stream herself, and eat the fat grass that grew on its banks. She never spoke much, but they knew she was grateful.
On clear days, if they looked to the north, they could just make out an immense mountain range. It would be impossible for them to cross the mountains in the winter. It seemed sensible to wait until spring, but some of the horses wanted to go now and at least get closer to the foothills.
Tijo, however, doubted if anything closer to those mountains would make a good winter camp. There was fresh water here. There was plenty of fat grass that wintered well. There was small game. Tijo had ridden Bobtail and Arriero out two days in a row and brought back several grouse and a chicken partridge. He had also brought down four or five rabbits. Their white fur was thick and he had enough pelt to make himself a hood.
He had gone back to the tree and fetched the bobcat skin he had hung on the limb. He needed time, though, to dress all of these skins properly, wash them, stretch them, cure them. It was odd. Tijo was now well fed and would soon be warm in the furs of the bobcat. These were his human needs and yet he felt keenly the needs of the horses as well. He longed for the scent of the sweet grass as much as they did. His life, his fate had become inextricably entwined with theirs.