Storm and the Silver Bridle Read Online Free PDF Page A

Mystic forward, circling the three horses and driving them back up the gravel driveway to the club grounds, getting them clear of the traffic and out of harm’s way. Then suddenly Toby, Goldrush and Coco were gone and it was just Issie and Mystic all alone on the road. Issie could hear the low rumble of the truck, smell the diesel and hear the squeal of tyres as the massive vehicle tried to brake. Mystic turned to face the truck, like a stallion squaring up to his opponent, ready to fight. As he did so, he threw Issie back and out of the saddle. Issie felt herself falling. She knew what would happen next because she had been there before. She would be thrown clear of thetruck, but Mystic, poor, brave Mystic, would face it head on. And he would die!
    “Mystic, no! NO!” Issie screamed. She was still falling, but the ground seemed a long way away. Falling, falling and then—she woke up. Issie sat bolt upright in bed, her heart racing and her sheets soaked with sweat. She found herself gasping, trying to catch her breath, trying to fight back the tears, then giving up and crying again just like she had done that day when she’d woken up in the hospital bed and her mother told her that her pony was dead.
    Issie’s mum and everyone had tried to help her get over it, but how do you ever recover from losing your best friend? And so she’d sworn she would never ride again. The idea of loving another horse had just seemed impossible.
    Then Tom Avery had turned up with Blaze. He told Issie about how the International League for the Protection of Horses had found the mare half-starved and maltreated. Issie knew then that she had no choice but to take the mare on. She poured her heart into helping Blaze and, as the mare got better, Issie’s spirit recovered too.
    Still, Issie never let go of her love for Mystic. And it turned out that the grey pony never let go of her either.
    Issie had always known that her pony was special—but Mystic was much more special than anyone could have realised. He was like a guardian angel for Issie—and for Blaze. After the accident at the pony club, the grey gelding came back to Issie. He returned whenever she really needed him. Not as a ghost, but a real horse.
    Mystic had a sixth sense for danger. He had saved Issie’s life so many times now she had lost count.
    She had dreamt about Mystic before. Her dreams were often a portent of what was to come. As she sat there in bed, Issie became aware of just what the dream meant. There was big danger afoot—she could feel it. A dream like that? It meant Mystic must be here.
    Issie jumped out of her bed and raced to press her face up against the window. She peered out into the inky night, trying to see down to the garden below her room. It was raining outside, and large rivulets of water snaked down the pane of glass, blurring her view. There! Something was moving down on the lawn. It was hard to make the shape out clearly in the dark, but it was something big—Issie could see the shadow moving back and forth. Was it Mystic?
    Pulling on a sweatshirt over her pyjamas, Issie raced down the stairs and out of the back door into the garden.
    The rain was getting heavier now and the grass was squelchy and sodden under her feet.
    “Mystic!” she hissed under her breath as she peered into the darkness. “Mystic!” It was so frustrating having to be quiet, but she didn’t want to wake her mum.
    Issie stood still for a moment, listening carefully. At first, all she could hear was her own heart beating. She began to doubt herself. Perhaps she had simply been having a nightmare. Maybe it didn’t mean anything after all? She held her breath now and listened again.
    There! She heard it. A soft nicker, the sound of a horse, coming from the far end of the garden. “Mystic!” Issie called again, her voice strained with emotion. This time she heard the whinny quite clearly, and then came the muffled sound of hoofbeats trotting towards her across the well-mown