Merriweather, the pony, turned her head and pricked her ears at April as she entered the paddock. As the small girl held out a carrot, Merriweather nickered and started to stand up. Her coat was shaggy from the beginnings of winter’s growth, and her mane was scraggly. She had also rolled around enough to get quite a lot of dirt embedded into both of them.

None of these things mattered to April, however, and Merriweather seemed to her to be the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. It was love at first whinny. Merri, as the girl instantly nicknamed her, stood patiently as April struggled to figure out the complicated piece of leather and brass that she had been told was a halter. They had shown her how to use it, but the knowledge seemed to have slipped away.