As Tarran sped down the hillock, Poppy was flung from the saddle onto a heap of brambles. She whimpered as tiny pinpricks of scarlet began to appear all over her skin and clothes. Poppy wasn't a squeamish girl by any stretch of the imagination, but the sight of her own blood made her panic. Daisy slowed Henna when she saw her sister's plight, leaping from her saddle and landing in the coarse sand of the hillock. Henna tore off and chased after Tarran, never stopping, brambles caught in her hooves. Daisy helped Poppy to her feet, delicately avoiding the briars.
"Come on, Poppy. We can go to the cottage and there should be some salve or something to put on your cuts."
The girls walked down the hillock, rather low in spirit. As they walked towards the cottage, Poppy felt as though it was her dream all over again. The sky was grey, with heavy clouds. The air was rather chill, and she was glad of her shawl. A swirling wind whipped through the air, biting at every inch of exposed skin. Poppy planted her booted feet firmly on the marshy ground and then walked forward slowly, Daisy hanging on to her arm.
When they reached the cottage, Poppy tentatively pushed open the door. "Welcome," said a voice. "I've been expecting you."