Droplets of sunlight speckled his back and neck as a breeze gently lifted the hair from his forehead. This was his favorite season of the year, when the earth warmed and birds happily sang new songs from budding tree tops.
Grass grew tender and soft and green beneath his feet. He was surprised every spring that it tasted so new and alive in his mouth. He never worried when tiny slivers of grass caught between his teeth. It simply meant there would be extra moments of grassy sweetness on his tongue.
He stopped chewing for a moment and let the fresh juices trickle down his throat. Then, he blew his breath out through his nose with a soft whuffling sound. A bee buzzed by his face and flew busily among the clover patch nearby.
The horse felt himself relax as warm fingers of sunlight sank beneath his skin and massaged his stiff muscles. He blinked once, twice, and closed his eyes as sleep overtook him where he stood.
From far away, notes sounded from a trumpet and he jolted awake. With ears pricked, he felt excitement run through him as he stood, waiting, listening. Was it the call to the track he had heard so many years ago? He felt a shiver run through him, shook his head and snorted, then stood absolutely still with his head up, eyes searching. He stood at attention for long moments, listening, but no other sound came.
Finally, wondering if he had been dreaming, he shook his head in bewilderment. The sound had come so clearly. He took a couple of steps and stopped, waiting and listening intently. He heard only the silence of the meadow. The silver horse switched his long black-and-white-and-silver tail vigorously in irritation, feeling disappointed.
The anticipation was still strong in him. It was the same desire to run that had coursed through his veins since he was a colt. It was the same instinct that ran, not only through his veins, but through the blood and genes of his ancestors who had raced across deserts, through dried up, rocky riverbeds, and over the gently rolling hills of a green island far across the ocean.
He often dreamed of those places and of horses running freely. In his dreams he recognized the joy they felt--the freedom of hooves churning sand and pounding earth, of horses flying through the air over hedges and gulches. If he could sleep again and dream, perhaps it would be of those places; he would dream of happier days, of running and feeling the exquisite joy that always filled him when he ran.
Movement high in the air caught the horse’s eye. It was an eagle circling in the aqua sky. His shrill cry echoed through the air. He circled once more, gliding lower and lower on the wind, till the tips of his wings seemed to brush the tree tops. Then, with another cry and powerful beating of his wings, the eagle flew rapidly away. The horse watched until the bird disappeared from view.
Deep longing swept over the horse. He wanted desperately to run freely, unhindered by old injuries that had never healed properly. What I want, he thought, is to do what the eagle can do—to fly, to soar, to run and never stumble, to feel the wind in my face and under my wings, lifting me, carrying me.
He gave a brief whinny at the empty sky, then dropped his head. Those thoughts are too high for me, he decided. How could I ever fly? I can’t even run anymore. Oh, God! It’s what I’ve always wanted—to do what I was born to do. To be what You made me to be. How can I?! When will I?!
He threw up his head and whinnied long and passionately. With all his strength, he cried out his frustration and desire. Then he listened with ears straining forward as the sound of his voice faded.
Silence was the only reply.
He lowered his head again and swung it, back and forth. From side to side he swung it, again and again. He stopped at last and jerked up, looking around embarrassed, and anxious that somebody might have witnessed his outburst.
But he saw no one.
A breeze softly caressed his face, lifting the black-and-white forelock and lightly moving over his dappled gray neck and back, still a little scruffy with winter coat. He sighed and lowered his head to the ground again, flopping velvet lips over tender grass. It was habit more than hunger. He was not really hungry.
Suddenly, he struck the ground with his foot, and then struck it again, feeling fury rush through him. Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! Again and again, he pawed until sharp pain shot up his leg to the knee. Then, every feeling left him except the knife-like pain.
His leg burned and throbbed awfully so he stood perfectly still, waiting for it to ease. He held his foot off the ground, unwilling to put any weight on it. He sighed deeply and groaned in his throat. After quite some time passed, the throbbing eased.
How foolish am I? he wondered. How could I ever run, much less fly like the eagle? There’s nothing special about me. After all, I’m just another broken down race horse. And I’m so lonely. Where is everybody anyway? Why am I here all alone?
The dappled horse hung his head dispiritedly. The sun was well up in the sky by now and the meadow was filled with friendly noises—chirping birds, bees buzzing, even the occasional fly that made his skin quiver when it landed on him. However, he was oblivious to the beautiful surroundings, his heart heavy with feelings of sadness. He wondered how he could ever be all he had hoped and expected he would be…a champion among champions, the winner of many races, much money, many silver cups. It seemed to him that his name could never be a famous one, mentioned repeatedly by sports commentators and recorded in the history books for future generations to remember with pride.
How could he sire a line of champion colts, stakes winners, Derby winners or perhaps even a Triple Crown winner? The Triple Crown! How much he had wanted to win the Triple Crown! He had hoped, even believed that his name would be on the short list of elite Thoroughbreds who had accomplished that most difficult of racing feats.
If he had had a decent chance, just an even chance, he knew he could have done so much more. He knew that’s what he was bred for. It is what I was born to do, he thought. I have the speed. I know I do. I have the legs. I’m strong and fast…or, I was, before…I have the heart. I could have done it. I know I could have.
He shook his head, trying hard not to give in to bitterness. It’s useless to think about those things now, the gray horse thought. There’s no point in going over it all again. I wish I could understand why, or…or just stop thinking about it.
Finally, drenched with the warmth of the sun, he felt calmer and he dozed. He dreamed of galloping over green hills and leaping over sparkling streams…And he dreamed of a little girl who joyfully called his name and came walking toward him, hand extended with a shiny red apple in it…
CHAPTER I
He saw her watching him through the wooden fence, a little girl with red hair and freckles. There were two men standing near her, talking and gesturing, pointing toward him and the other colts.
Ducking his head under his mother’s belly, the colt, nearly a year old now, nudged her, then moved closer, drawing comfort from her nearness. He didn’t much care for what he sensed coming from the men; but the little girl was different.
She had been coming to the pasture every day, watching him and the other colts play. She would call him and click her tongue at him; and more than once, out of curiosity he had ventured close to her. She always tossed treats with new and unusual tastes to him. Then, as she reached toward him, he would take a step back, whirl and run, tail in the air like a stag’s white flag of warning.
He moved away from his mother and flared his nostrils, breathing in the scents that constantly flowed on the wind. He caught the girl’s scent, familiar to him now, sweet and fresh and clean, and there was a new scent, something sharp, metallic. He whickered softly and nodded his head up and down at her, then whinnied in greeting. The men looked at him.
The colt tossed his head as a sudden urge hit him. He trotted farther away from the herd, tossed his head again, then turned and bolted. His sturdy legs took him flying, clear to the end of the pasture, where he skidded to a stop, mere inches from the fence. He whirled again and trotted a few steps, kicking his hind legs in exuberance.
The colt took off again, galloping around the pasture, following the fence-line. The men stopped talking and watched. The colt went out of view for a moment, as he circled the lower part of the field;
then, he reappeared, topping a small incline. He dug in, hitting a new level of speed and flew by the men and the girl, feet fairly skimming the ground.
He continued to run until he disappeared again into the lower pasture. The men exchanged a look and one of them clicked his stopwatch. The girl watched anxiously, her eyes darting from the men to the place she expected the colt to reappear, along the fence line.
Sure enough, she heard his hooves and he burst into view, running all out, heading straight for the corner at the end of the pasture where the men stood. The girl gasped. He had covered the pasture very quickly and now it looked like he would run straight into the fence. She breathed a quick prayer, and held her breath as she watched him veer around the corner for the second time. The man clicked his stopwatch. The colt flew by her close to the fence, his hooves churning the dust of the trail worn by other rambunctious colts, testing their metal and testing each other’s speed.
She clicked her tongue at him as he passed and murmured “Go, boy, go.” His ears flicked back. He heard her perfectly well.
He snorted and slowed slightly as he descended the small hill and left her view. Like the men, she waited tensely. She counted the seconds under her breath, “One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand…”
The girl was astonished to see the colt appear only seconds later, rising out of the lower pasture as if he might leap into the sky and fly away. Sunlight flashed on his dappled gray coat as he galloped by, his unusually colored black-and-white tail streaming behind him.
One of the men exclaimed softly. The girl heard him and knew they were impressed with the colt’s speed. She was amazed. He did not look as if he had broken much sweat. She clucked to him again as he passed and he slowed his pace to a gallop and then a trot. He was not terribly winded and he ended his solitary dash by walking about the pasture till he found bit of grass that suited his fancy.
The girl watched him and clicked her tongue at him. He turned to gaze at her. She wanted very much for him to come to her. Her attention was on the colt and she did not notice the two men leave. She had eyes only for the colt.
He whinnied a colt’s whinny, high and proud. Standing a few feet away, a red colt with four black stockings tossed his head and said in horse language, “I dare you to go over there to that girl.”
The gray colt pretended not to hear. He flared his nostrils to catch her scent again. He caught it and it was sweet. She reminded him of the barn, of hay, and the closeness of his mother, of warmth and safety. She clicked her tongue to him again and said, “Come here, boy.” The colt turned and trotted toward the girl. He stopped abruptly just a few feet from her, spread his long front legs slightly and bent his neck, flip-flopping his velvet lips over the grass, pretending to graze as his mother did.
The girl had slipped through the wooden slats of the fence and moved slowly through the grass a few steps, murmuring to him, her hand held out. His ears pricked forward. Her voice was gentle and she said words he had heard from no one but her…words like “beautiful” and “good boy”. He flicked his ears forward, trying to understand her language. Mostly, he understood that she was kind and sweet and she wanted him to come nearer.
The red colt laughed behind him and called out rudely, “Go ahead, pretty boy, if you’re not too scared!”
The silver colt ignored Red and kept his attention focused on the girl. He pawed the ground three times, switched his tail twice and decided. I’ll show him who has the courage in this pasture, he thought.
He walked straight up to her, stretched his muzzle toward her and sniffed. The little girl stood perfectly still while he investigated, sniffing and snuffling her clothes. When his soft nose with the prickly whiskers moved over her arm, she could contain herself no longer and giggled. She spoke softly, “You’re tickling me, boy. But that’s okay.”
He remembered the happy sound of her giggle and clearly recalled a warm stall and his mother nuzzling him gently. He knew this girl. She was there the first time he ever opened his eyes, on the day of his birth. He took a step closer and let her pet him. Her fingers slid over his neck and she scratched just behind his ears, exactly where it itched.
She said, “Let’s go over and sit for awhile, fellow.” She turned and made her way to a pecan tree nearby. The colt watched her walk. He thought there was something unusual in the way she moved. It was different from the way the men looked when they walked around the pasture and the barn. He followed her.
The girl put one hand on the tree for balance and swiped the ground with her small red plaid horse blanket, sending pecans rolling in every direction. She placed the blanket on the ground, reached into her pocket and held out her hand. She slowly uncurled her fingers and there, lying flat on her palm, was a bright red chunk of apple.
“Here you go, silver horse. Go ahead, take it, boy. It’s all yours.”
He studied the treat, then looked at the girl patiently holding out her hand. “Come on, you handsome horsey. I know you want it. Take it and munch on it. You know it tastes good. You’ve had some apples before. I know,” she grinned, “because I brought them.”
The colt nodded his head up and down. “That’s right,” she said, “I’m telling you the truth. Here it is.” The colt smelled the sweetness of the apple on her palm. He decided at last he would take it and stretched his neck as far as it would go, whiffling his lips and taking the chunk of fruit.
“That was good, silver boy. I’m glad you’re so gentle. Mom would pitch a fit if I came home with half my hand gone down your throat.” She grinned at the colt who munched his treat happily. She patted his neck, caressed his face and smoothed his salt-and-pepper forelock, all the while murmuring softly to him.
He half closed his eyes, enjoying her attention. Everything faded from around him and all he felt was her presence and the love that emanated from her. “And here’s some more treats I brought for you.” The girl reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out a plastic sandwich bag with apple quarters in it. They had peanut butter spread on them and they were intended as a treat for her. Curious, he pushed his nose into her palm, ready to try anything she might offer him.
The sound of hooves pounding rapidly toward them brought both their heads up with a jerk. Claire’s heart pounded hard in her chest when she saw Red, headed straight toward them, followed by his pal, the dun colt, and a saucy black filly. “Out of the way, you ugly spotted nag,” the large dun colt neighed.
The silver colt stood alert and the girl moved closer to him. Then, without thinking, she bent, and grabbed the red blanket at her feet, hanging onto the colt’s mane for support. As the other three colts neared, she kept a hand on the silver colt’s back for balance and threw the blanket up in front of her, one-handed.
If flapped and fluttered in the wind, startling the three colts rushing forward. She cried, “Hyah! Hyah! Get back, you horses!”
The black filly spooked instantly, squealed and bolted away, quickly followed by Dunny, the brown colt, who sheered sharply off to the side.
Red slowed only a bit, then careened past the girl, barely missing her, his tail in the air, head snaking forward with his teeth showing. He made sure to dig especially hard in the soft turf with his hooves, so that clods of dirt and grass would be churned up and would fly through the air, landing on the girl and the silver colt.
She felt the silver colt’s shoulder muscle contract under her hand, and his skin quivered. He moved around her in a circle, squealing in anger and tossing his head at the other colts. Suddenly he grabbed the blanket from the girl’s hand and held it between his teeth, shaking it back and forth as he pranced away from her. He rose to his hind legs and shook it, as if daring the others to come back.
He heard the slight tremor in her voice as she said, “There, there, fellow, we’re all right, thank Heaven! There must have been an angel between us and them.” With blanket still between his teeth, the colt rolled his eyes at her and looked so funny, she could not help but giggle. He dropped the blanket, curled his lips back and ran his tongue over his teeth, trying to rid his mouth of dry blanket fibers.
The little girl giggled with nerves and adrenaline. She held out her hand to him, and he moved to her, whuffling her with his nose to be sure she was all right. His warm breath tickled her and her giggle turned to laughter. It was a soft, lilting sound, almost like music, calming him.
She murmured, “You’re so brave, my sweet boy, waving that blanket! You’re as bold as any matador who waves his cape at a bull. I bet you don’t know what a matador is, do you?” He shook his head, tossing his mane. She smoothed it and continued, “That’s all right. It doesn’t matter.” The young red-haired girl patted the colt’s neck, rubbing behind his ears, caressing his face and playing with the distinctive black and white forelock. “You’re so beautiful,” she told the colt, “like a flash of silver lightning! That’s what you are. You’re a beauty! If you’ll be my friend, I’ll be yours.”
The colt pressed his face against her chest and she pressed back gently against him. She whispered, “Thank you, God, for my sweet friend. I love him very much. Please keep him safe and sound for me.” Then she placed her lips close to his ear and whispered, “Maybe we can name you Silver Matador. Is that okay with you? And, I’ll keep you here. I won’t let them take you away.” She moved around and leaned against him, hugging his neck. She laid her cheek on his soft furry hair and felt him relax in her arms. “I’ll keep you safe here and you won’t have to go away. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, fellow, to stay here, close to me?”
The colt pressed closer to her, feeling the bond with her go deep in his soul. Yes, he thought. This is good. Here always with you. If you’ll be my girl, I’ll be your friend. I’ll be here for you.
She murmured in his ear, “I’ll love you always. Friends forever, okay?”
He rubbed his face against her and replied in horse language, “Friends forever.”
She heard soft sounds from his throat and knew he understood.
Just then, a woman called from the lane by the fence, “Claire! Time to go.”
Claire sighed and responded, “Not yet, Mom. It’s still early.”
“No, it’s getting late and you’ve got supper and a bath waiting.”
“I’m not so hungry, Mom. I’m fine here.” Her voice was muffled behind the colt’s neck. She was feeding the apple slices to the colt, who munched with real enthusiasm.
“Now Claire, don’t start that. You know you don’t need to wear yourself out.”
“I’m not, Mom,” Claire insisted, “I haven’t been here very long at all,” she lowered her voice and said to the colt, “not long enough for me. Forever wouldn’t be long enough.”
Her mother replied, sounding irritated, “It’s long enough. We’ve been all through this before. Besides, I have a surprise for you today.”
Claire looked around and there, walking through the grassy pasture as if wading in the shallow water of the ocean, was Uncle Rob, her favorite relative in the whole family. She had to suppress a whoop of excitement, and so waved instead, grinning widely at him.
He waved back, smiling as always.
The colt felt Claire’s joy and perked his ears forward. He whickered at the man. If his girl liked this man, then the man must be all right.
Uncle Rob moved around beside the silver dappled colt, placing a reassuring hand on his neck. He ran gentle, knowing hands over the colt’s withers and rump and down his legs, lifting his feet to examine them. He patted the colt and remarked, “Feet look good. He’s looking good, isn’t he, Claire?”
“I sure do think so, Uncle Rob.” Claire beamed proudly at her uncle, thrilled that a trainer as experienced as he would say positive things about the colt she had picked as special.
“He really relates well to you, doesn’t he?” Uncle Rob remarked.
“He remembers me, I’m sure of it,” Claire stated emphatically.
Uncle Rob walked around to the other side of the colt and asked,
“What about me, Punkin? Think he’ll relate well to me?”
Claire looked at her uncle in wonder as he slipped his arm around her shoulders. “You mean you’re going to train him? Uncle Rob! Yipeee!” Claire clapped her hand on the neck of the silver colt, who blinked and snorted in surprise.
“Easy, Claire,” her mom called, “don’t frighten him.”
Claire rolled her eyes at her uncle and just shook her head, thinking for the hundredth time, Mom! She just doesn’t understand!
Her uncle pursed his lips at her, so Claire responded to her mom, “He’s okay. He’s not afraid of anything.” And sure enough, the colt remained calm, watching, appearing to listen with interest to their conversation.
Claire put her arms around her uncle and pounded him on the back instead of pounding the colt. Rob laughed and said, “It does look like I’ll be working with him, Cal. I can count on you to help me, can’t I?”
“You know it, Uncle Rob! I think he’s a class colt, I really do.”
Sounding much like a doctor, Uncle Rob said merely, “Um-hmm.”
“He’s got speed, too. He’s fast as lightning," she said earnestly.
“Um-hmm,” Uncle Rob eyed the colt speculatively. “Well-put-together,” he murmured.
“Totally,” Claire responded, watching her uncle anxiously.
“Um-hmm,” said Uncle Rob. “Well.” He looked down at her up-turned face. “We’ll see what we shall see.”
Claire smiled. “You always say that, Uncle Rob.”
“Izzat right?” he winked at her.
She answered, “Yes sir, that’s right.”
Uncle Rob chuckled at her and said, “Um-hmm.”
Claire’s heart felt as if it would burst. Not only was Uncle Rob her uncle, he was also a very well-known horse trainer. The best farms vied for his services as trainer for their most promising colts. In fact, he had worked for a good number of the well-known horse owners at one time or another in his life.
He had built a reputation for training winners. Claire knew he would not spend a moment with the silver colt if he were not fairly sure he had a potential winner on his hands,
Uncle Rob smoothed the loose strands of her hair back from her sunburned forehead. “We’ll have to think up a good name for him.”
“I think we should call him Silver Matador,” Claire offered shyly.
Rob looked up at the sky and asked, “Because of that blanket trick he pulled?”
Claire nodded eagerly. “Isn’t he smart? He protected me from those other colts.” Then, she realized what she had said. “Um…I mean, I wasn’t in danger or anything. We…we were fine. He was right here with me.” She knew she shouldn’t have mentioned that she might have been in the least bit of danger, so she thought quickly and added, “Those other colts are just jealous of him because he’s so beautiful and so fast.”
Again, Rob replied, “Um-hmm.”
Claire studied his face, hoping he agreed with her. If Uncle Rob thought her being in the pasture was too dangerous, she knew her time with the silver colt would be severely curtailed. They would insist someone else be with her at all times around the horses.
“Really, Uncle Rob, we were fine…okay?” She asked so anxiously, he felt his heart melt.
He put his hand on her shoulder and replied, “You’re a smart girl, Claire. You can think on your feet and that’s a good thing.” Claire thought she understood what he meant.
“You mean you saw the whole thing?”
He nodded his head once.
Claire’s mom called from the fence, “Time to go.”
Claire exchanged a long meaningful look with her uncle and she felt sure that he would not make a big deal of it. But she wanted to be sure. She started to speak, but her uncle interrupted. “If they try such a stunt again, we may have to separate him. He needs to learn how to handle himself, but we don’t want him getting hurt, now, do we?”
Claire nodded, then shook her head, then to clarify, she said, “I agree with you, Uncle Rob. We surely don’t want him getting hurt.”
She stroked the colt’s soft black nose and said, “See you tomorrow, silver boy. Be good and watch your back.”
She leaned her head forward to touch the colt forehead to forehead. Uncle Rob started to remind her how dangerous that move was, but changed his mind even as he opened his mouth to speak. He had seen a very old Native American horse whisperer do the same thing when he himself was still a young man, growing up on a ranch in Montana . He felt his insides jerk to see Claire make the same gesture. The action was simple and full of trust. Naturally, he was concerned that the colt might throw his head up, and in doing so, hurt Claire or knock her down.
However, the colt stood perfectly still, calmly accepting Claire’s expression of affection. Rob had to admit to himself that his niece did indeed have a way with horses. He was impressed with the level of communication passing between Claire and the colt. She murmured, “I love you, boy” and drew her face slowly back from his. He pressed his velvet nose into her palm and murmured back in his own horse language, “I love you too. You’re my girl.”
She drew back from the young horse reluctantly, not wanting to leave; but, when Uncle Rob held out his hand, she smiled happily up at him and put her hand in his. They walked slowly, in step together, to the car, Uncle Rob carrying her things and holding her by the arm.
The colt watched the people walk a few steps then followed his girl a pace behind.
A flash of sunlight struck his eyes, so he stopped in his tracks and watched Uncle Rob help Claire lift her leg with the brace on it over a slat in the wooden fence. The colt wondered at the metal on his girl’s leg and he wondered why only she had a leg such as that, so different from the other people who came to the pasture. He watched as the car drove away.
Lost in thought, he jerked slightly when a mocking voice came from behind, ‘Oooooh, my sweet sillllver matador.’ It was Red.
‘Yeah,’ Dunny chimed in, ‘only it’s more like knock-kneed, splay-footed nag.’
Saucy Filly said in her little girl-filly voice, ‘You’re so byoooootiful, my sweetie pie!’ And she made smooching sounds, as if she were kissing him. Then she said, an edge in her voice, ‘’Silver’ my hind leg. You look more like the color of pond water.’
Dunny and Red laughed, so she added, ‘When it rains I have to squint to even see you.’ They all laughed more loudly.
Dunny said, ‘I guess you think you’re so special, running a really
fast turn around the pasture. Woooooo—we’re all soooooo impressed.’
Saucy Filly and Red snickered mockingly.
Anger ran quick and hot through the silver colt. He laid his ears back and looked from one to another of the colts, switching his tail, ready to engage should one move toward him. He was about to reply sharply when his girl’s words echoed in his mind, “They’re just jealous of him because he’s so strong and so fast.”
He stared coldly into Red’s eyes for a long moment. Uneasy with the silence, Saucy Filly whinnied nervously and fidgeted. She was always fidgeting. The silver colt did not reply after all. He simply stared at them until, one by one, they lost interest and moved away. Red returned the cold stare, and as he turned to go with his friends, tossed over his shoulder, ‘This isn’t over, spotty-boy.’
The silver colt snorted his dismissal. He kicked up his heels and took off, shooting past the other colts, quickly shifting into a lightning fast pace. One or two acted as if they might pick up the challenge and race him but he left them in his dust. He loved running and running, and running some more, feeling the wind in his face, feeling the thrust of his hindquarters and all his muscles working to pour on more speed.
When he ran, he felt free and happy. He tried not to hit the ground hard with his hooves. He thought if he could just run a little faster, he might fly. He loved being fastest in the pasture, catching up to and passing all the colts till there was no one left in front of him to catch. Then he ran simply for the pure joy of it.
As he ran, he heard his girl’s words echo in his thoughts, “Watch your back, my boy.” The silver colt wondered just what those words meant.
He caught sight of Red and Dunny play-fighting at the edge of the herd and decided he would rejoin the herd from the other direction. He trotted around till he found his mother, then slowed his pace further to a walk and blended easily among the mares. His mother whickered a welcome to him and he pressed against her saying,
‘I’m fine, mother.’
‘Did they come again?’ she asked.
‘Yes, mother. The girl is so nice. She likes me a lot.’
‘You be careful around those people. I want you to stay close to me.’
‘Yes, mother. Did you see? She has a shiny thing on her leg and she walks so slowly.’
His mother snorted. ‘So? Do as I say.’
‘Yes, mother. Is it supper yet?’ he asked hopefully.
She nudged him. ‘Always for you, my son.’
He pushed against her w/his shoulder and nursed for a few moments, then turned and grazed with his mother, side by side. Wondering when he would see the little red haired girl again.
