nights ago. Distant, but for how long? Now she knew that Dagger wasnât gone. But was Ben? Sometimes she thought about riding Rain Cloud off the trails and looking for Ben. Rain Cloud minded Twig now, and Twig rode well enough too. But Rain Cloud wouldnât veer off the path into the woods. None of the ponies would, not for Twig or for anyone else.
Sometimes, when she was standing at the stove stirring the syrup and watching Mrs. Murley drop pancake batter onto the electric skillet, she wanted to tell her about Ben. She imagined Mrs. Murleyâs concern, her sending Mr. Murley after Ben, then Mr. Murley bringing him inside, where it was warm. But something told her Ben would not be found. And he wouldnât come if he were. For so long, Twig hadnât wanted to tell people things. Now she had people she wanted to tell, and too many things she had to keep secret insteadâthe truth about what had happened to her stepsister, Emily. The unicorns. Ben.
June
Chapter 20
Twig leaned against the corner of Wild Lightâs stall, balancing her sketchbook against her chest. âStay right there, girl. Thatâs good.â
Wild Light was grown enough that Twig had to lift her chin up a little to look into her eyes. She was strong and sleek and beautiful, and still pure white, except for her pale silver-gray mane and tail.
Twig had learned that when it came to drawing, white was more than just white. Slowly, gradually, she shaded the shadows that defined Wild Lightâs shape. Twig took her gum eraser from the pocket of her shell and rubbed at a highlight that had gotten smudged, to make it whiter again. She blew off the eraser bits, stuck the ebony pencil in her mouth, and used her fingertips to blend the soft, dark graphite and smooth the edge between shadow and highlight.
Wild Lightâs ears perked up, and she nickeredâher nicker that meant, Hello . Hello, friend . Twig heard the stable door shut. She frowned. Sheâd been concentrating so hard on her drawing, sheâd missed the sound of it opening. Who would be out here this late? Mr. and Mrs. Murley knew she was in the stable sketching. Maybe it was later than she thought and theyâd sent one of the girls to get her. She lowered her pencil and peered over the stall wall.
Benâs light brown eyes stared back at her. She dropped her pencil in the wood shavings.
âHi,â she managed to say.
âHello.â He pushed the hood of his cloak back. His hair was longer now, though the ends of the waves looked like someone had sawed at them with a knife. âI come in here at night sometimes, to see her. When no one else is here.â
âMe too.â
He gestured at the stall door with his head. âCan I come in?â
âOh.â Twig tucked her sketchbook under her arm and reached for the latch, but he opened it himself first.
Wild Light went right to him and nuzzled his head. Ben laughed softly and rubbed her neck. âWild Light,â Ben whispered in her ear. âThis Twig girl wasnât born a herder, but sheâll make you a good enough rider just the same, I think.â
Herder? Rider? Twig wanted to ask Ben what he meant; she wanted to ask him so many things. But his attention was focused on Wild Light. He whispered to her and listened to her soft, breathy answers, and Twig knew better, after these months at Island Ranch, than to interrupt that sort of conversation.
When he and Wild Light were done talking, Ben plucked the pencil out of the bedding and handed it to Twig. âCan I see?â He gestured at the sketchbook.
Twig shrugged. Before, she wouldâve refused. Now that she was used to the girls peeking over her shoulder all the time, she felt only the slightest knot in her stomach as she folded the sketchbook cover back and held it out to Ben.
He studied the drawing and one corner of his mouth turned up. Sheâd drawn Wild Light leaping, dancelike. Sheâd been sketching