FlawThe flaw, once invisible, now spread like cracks across the mirror of her memories, shattering every reflection she had trusted.

As the riders drew near, the dog lifted its head, fixing them with eyes full of such pain that the girl’s heart skipped a beat and tears welled up in her eyes.

Emma slipped the halter over her horse’s head and led her out of the stall. Tying the lead rope to the cross-tie in the barn aisle, she stood back to admire the mare.

Coal-black, with perfect white socks on all four elegant legs, Windsor was the envy of every rider in the yard.

Picking up a brush, Emma began to groom the horse, murmuring praise all the while. Windsor shifted nervously from foot to foot, tossing her head and listening.

Emma stroked her neck gently, puzzled by her behaviour.

“What’s wrong, Winny? What’s bothering you?”

“Talking to the horse, are we?” came a voice. The stable hand, Ben, had wandered over.

“Uncle Ben, she’s been acting really strange today,” Emma said, still stroking the glossy neck. “She arrived a month ago, and she’s never done this before.”

“Something’s upset her,” the older man observed, giving the mare a knowing once-over. “Lovely thing, though!”

“And she’s got a wonderful temperament,” Emma agreed. “Perfectly schooled too. I still can’t understand how her old owner could part with a horse like this.”

“Maybe she’s got a hidden flaw,” Ben said thoughtfully.

“She hasn’t got a flaw!” Emma rushed to defend her favourite.

Windsor shook her head, as if agreeing.

“Well, well, take offence, then,” Ben chuckled, wandering off to his chores.

Emma tacked up Windsor and led her out of the barn. The mare listened intently to every sound, casting wary glances towards the road that bordered the woods.

“That’s exactly where we’re headed,” Emma said, noticing where the horse was looking. “You’ve been perfect in the arena—time you saw some proper countryside.”

She swung lightly into the saddle, gathered the reins, and turned Windsor towards the forest.

That June morning was still cool, a pleasant time for a ride. Windsor followed obediently, pausing now and then to prick her ears at the woodland noises.

Emma urged her into a trot along the track where she used to ride her old horse, Storm.

She remembered how, two months ago, Storm had been diagnosed with a breathing problem, and she’d had to say goodbye to her faithful friend. He’d been sent to a farm in the countryside, where the cleaner air kept his coughing fits at bay.

For competitions, she needed a horse, so she and her coach had started looking. Their search ended the day Emma spotted Windsor at a riding club just outside London. One ride, and she knew this was the one.

The mare was beautifully trained and sweet-natured. The club had helped with the funds, and Windsor came home.

Now, recalling the purchase, Emma remembered how odd the former owner had been. She’d rushed the deal, as if desperate to get rid of Windsor.

What had happened? Why sell such a wonderful horse?

Windsor stopped dead. Emma, lost in thought, nearly toppled out of the saddle. The mare stood frozen, refusing to move no matter how much Emma urged her forward.

“Why won’t you go on?”

Windsor snorted softly, still planted. She turned her head slightly to the right.

Emma looked, but saw only grass and trees. What had caught the horse’s attention?

“Want to go that way?” Emma loosened the reins, giving Windsor her head. “Fine, your call.”

Windsor stepped off the track and walked towards a faint squeaking sound that Emma now heard too.

The horse stopped beside a birch tree. On the grass sat a cardboard box, weighed down with thick branches. The squeaking came from inside.

Emma jumped down. She tossed the branches aside and opened the box. Inside were three kittens, eyes barely open, mewling pitifully for their mother, who had been cruelly taken from them.

Emma felt a surge of anger. “How can people be so heartless?!” She lifted the box and went to the horse. “Winny, hurry—let’s get home!”

—

“Unbelievable!” exclaimed Sarah, Emma’s coach.

“Winny led me straight to the box,” Emma finished her story.

She’d rushed the kittens to the club’s vet. They were healthy, and two already had new homes. Emma took the third one herself—a black kitten with white paws, just like Windsor’s markings. Once they were old enough, they’d go to their forever families.

“Windsor is a noble horse,” Sarah said admiringly. “People walk past, but a horse doesn’t.”

Meanwhile, Emma and Windsor threw themselves into training for the upcoming competitions. The club expected great things.

Training took up all their time, mostly in the arena. In July, they placed second at a local show. In August, they won at the county championships. Next up was the regional final in the capital, and preparations intensified.

“Emma, I need you in the arena in forty minutes,” Sarah called, poking her head into the stable.

Windsor stood in the aisle, shifting nervously, trembling, letting out a loud neigh that echoed around.

“Easy, easy!” Emma tried to calm her.

“What’s wrong with her?” Sarah asked worriedly, never having seen Windsor like this.

“She behaved exactly like this the day we found the kittens,” Emma said.

“Take her out of the yard—maybe something’s happened,” Sarah said, looking around. “Take Ben with you.”

Twenty minutes later, two riders left the stable grounds. Emma let Windsor play navigator.

They passed the neat rows of houses on the town’s edge, hit the road, and headed for the woods.

Suddenly, Windsor spun around and galloped along the road. Cars whizzed by, horns blaring, afraid the riders might stray onto the tarmac.

“What a daft idea, letting a horse lead you!” Ben grumbled, not understanding what they were looking for.

“Better to check what’s bothering Winny than regret it later…” Emma didn’t finish.

On the roadside lay a German Shepherd, hit by a car. As the riders approached, the dog lifted its head and looked at them with eyes full of such pain that Emma’s heart stopped, and tears filled her eyes.

They had found the source of Windsor’s anxiety.

—

Emma slid off Windsor, still praising her. They had just finished a freestyle test at the regional championships, and she was thrilled.

“Brilliant ride!” Sarah ran over.

“Winny really feels the music!” Emma said, adjusting her stirrups in delight. “She’s the best horse in the universe!”

“She’s a horse with a serious flaw!” a sharp voice cut in behind her.

Emma turned. A woman in a tailcoat sat on a chestnut mare, waiting to perform. Her face seemed vaguely familiar.

“Why would you say that?” Emma replied, her tone far from friendly. “You don’t know Winny at all! She’s noble…”

“With a flaw,” the woman interrupted. “I know this mare very well.”

“The former owner,” Sarah muttered, recognising her.

“How can you talk about her like that?” Emma was furious.

“In the year I owned her, she brought me half a dozen stray dogs and cats,” the woman spat. “Her two previous owners gave her up for the same reason, as it turned out.”

“You all just failed to understand how noble this horse is!” Sarah retorted. “That’s not a flaw—it’s compassion!”

A German Shepherd ran up to Emma, tail wagging, gazing at her with adoring eyes.

Oscar was the dog Windsor had led them to the previous year. No owner had been found, so Emma kept him.

At home, the black kitten with white paws, now grown, waited. Emma had named him Comet.

Ben had adopted a puppy that Emma and Windsor had found last autumn.

Sarah had taken in a tortoiseshell cat from a previous competition.

And three more dogs and four cats, all saved by Windsor, had found loving homes. And all that was called a “flaw”?

“Maybe the flaw is in you…” Emma gave the woman a cold look, then led Windsor away.

That day, Emma and Windsor took first place. Driving home that evening, Sarah and Emma heard the horse stomping in the trailer, clearly trying to get their attention.

They pulled over and opened the trailer door. Windsor greeted them with a loud whinny. Someone urgently needed help.