• Salty tides washed the sandy shores of Oregon, coaxing new green grass to replace the old dry remnants of winter. The sky flared from rose to orange and pink, a fan of amber light that made the earth seem bright and new. Through the early mist that was thinning, a slender leggy form could be seen toiling up the sand dunes. A soft breeze rippled past and her long blond hair flared out in arcs, flying in the wind like wings. She carried her sandals in one hand so her toes could enjoy the sand beneath her feet, between her toes. Her progress was slow, pulled back by the heavy sand as though humans were not welcome here. But it wasn’t like she was bothering anyone. No one was around except her—and a little seagull that lighted on a rock to rest. But the human was as meaningless to the bird as the wind that ruffled its feathers.

    The fourteen-year-old girl didn’t notice the bird either. Her mind was set on only one thing. As she ascended to the top of the ridge above the sand dunes, she thought about what her mother would say if she found her daughter wandering out here.

    “I don’t like you being out on the beach alone, Kori,” Her mother had said this morning. “What if you fell in the ocean or if you got eaten by a mountain lion?”
    “Mom!” Kori had groaned stubbornly. “It’s a beautiful day out and I don’t like being cooped up in the house all day!”
    “Just don’t go out too far.”

    Kori sighed as she sat down in the wiry grass. Of course she wouldn’t go too far! She wasn’t stupid! Her mother just wasn’t the outdoorsy type of person anyway. Ellen usually stayed in, doing what moms do best and taking care of the cats and Aiko, the youngest of the family. In fact, most of the family was “city folk.” Only Kori had a passion for nature—especially horses. She loved horses with a passion, ever since she read books like The Black Stallion and The Snow Pony.

    Her nineteen-year-old brother, Brendon, was the family jock. Nearly everyday he was on a skateboard, a surfboard, or even a snowboard—whatever he could get his feet on. He was a complete natural at sports. When he wasn’t out doing something active, he was sleeping.

    Her seventeen-year-old sister, Ella, was completely one-hundred percent prep. Ella was always hogging the bathroom to do her makeup or chatting on the phone twenty-four-seven. She could smile and wave at any cute boy she saw and she could dance for hours and never tire. Kori used to admire her sister until Ella went to high school and went from caring and warm to pampered and snobby.

    Eight-year-old Joey and five-year-old Aiko both liked to explore the way Kori did, but they were no fun to play with. Joey never stopped to listen and Aiko was still a baby, not quite strong enough on her short wobbly legs. Kori had to be really careful they didn’t get hurt.

    Only Kori could disappear into the woods for hours, returning home only to eat and sleep. She could climb a tree in eight seconds flat or sit quietly under a cottonwood tree with a good book in her hands. But what she really loved doing was watching the wild mustangs that roamed near her house and along the beach. The mustangs never came close to her yard, though they acted as though it was a part of the land itself, an odd-shaped boulder that did them no harm. Kori always went to the plains above the beach to watch them graze. She always made sure they didn't see her or smell her, for she didn’t want them to panic and run away. She also didn’t want the herd’s stallion to charge her. That was the only thing Kori feared in life: an enraged stallion that could easily crush someone with their powerful hooves. She always watched the indomitable herds from a distance.

    Suddenly, an explosion of hoofbeats startled Kori out of her thoughts. Leaping to her feet, Kori faced the pine forest on the far side of the plains. She heard the sharp crackling of foliage as well as the muffled hoofbeats and an occasional whinny. The earth began to shake with the thundering of hooves as a long informal line of horses fanned out onto the flat plain, their necks outstretched and their legs obscure in billowing clouds of dust.

    In the lead ran a tall angular sorrel mare with a white star on her forehead. The rest of the herd strung out behind her in a close bunch. At the back ran a huge brawny black stallion. He was in command. His thick arched neck and battle-scarred ears made his leadership quite obvious. He circled his herd rapidly as the lead mare slowed to a walk. She raised her head to look around, swiveling her ears this way and that. Finally, she seemed to be sure that no one was missing and she tossed her long earth-brown mane. It seemed to be her way of saying it was time to eat.