Solma keeps her palm against Burdock’s shoulder, listening to the tan pony’s breathing as he plods along. Occasionally, he nuzzles her, as if to encourage her. On Burdock’s other side, Poppy’s more skittish. Bell holds the mare’s lead rope and Solma tries to tune out her aunt’s nattering.
“Come on, you daft thing!” Bell says. “Walk on!”
Poppy prances sideways, but Burdock lowers his nose and nudges her in the shoulder. She settles but her ears lay flat against her head. Bell rolls her eyes.
“What’s wrong with you?” she demands, as if she’s expecting an answer. Solma suppresses a nervous grin.
“It’s the mountains,” she says, nodding towards the silhouette of several looming peaks piercing the eastern clouds. Bell frowns.
“What about them?”
Up ahead, Olive turns, raising an eyebrow. “
