She’d sat too long on the log and her feet in rubber riding boots were numb with cold. She could feel them but they hurt when she stood up and she wondered if she would be able to walk at all. But she hobbled on along the tarmac despite the pain.
She forced herself to keep going, sunk into a dull despair and fear as to the outcome of this nightmare. The road was quiet at that time of day but several cars and lorries passed in both directions speeding away from her without a second glance. Sometimes she tried holding out her arm to attract attention but the drivers had neither time nor inclination to stop. She began to feel indignant that no one noticed her plight.
“I’m sure I’d stop if I saw someone in trouble,” she said aloud to herself. But most people would see nothing unusual in a girl leading a horse. And flying by in a car at speed they wouldn’t know they were seeing a crisis. They’d have no notion of what had happened.
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