Without even thinking, I pulled Kody around in a large circle and spurred him on into a canter. He sprang into life and locked his focus on the small dyke.

"Izzy!" Oliver yelled.

I heard Bruno's thundering feet behind me as Kody rose up into the air, soaring over the dyke with one smooth leap. He seemed to sense the urgency in me, shooting us into a gallop. He kept arrow straight as I kept my eyes locked on the horse on the ground. Several seconds later, I shouted 'Whoa' at Kody who skidded to a stop. I jumped down from him, not giving a second thought as to how I'd get back up.

My heart stopped dead as tears fell from me. The poor creature in front of me.

"Oh my god."

Laid flat out on its side, I realised it had been its stomach I had seen moving with its laboured breathing. A quick glance told me she was a mare. The final move she'd made to capture my attention had been to lift her head. Now I stood next to her, she flopped her head back down on the ground with a grunt – as if the effort had sucked the last of her life from her. She was trembling from head to toe.

"Oh my goodness," Oliver said. He pushed Bruno to my side who was quivering with excitement.

"Go get help," I said, turning my tear stained face to the handsome man.

"I can't leave you here-"

"I'll be fine. Besides, you can't get off him – he'll run off. Just go!"

"Izzy, just let me call someone-"

"Oliver, please. Take Bruno back to the yard. He'll be there just as quick as you ringing someone, trust me. I'm not leaving her."

I sat down on the wet grass and lifted her head into my lap. Kody shuffled around her frail, emaciated body and stood behind me. His hot breath breathing down my neck provided some warmth to my now damp, cold body.

"I'll be back shortly," Oliver said. He dug his heels in Bruno's sides who responded with a high pitched squeal and a mighty buck before swallowing up the ground in his usual galloping rhythm. Within thirty seconds, they were nothing but a speck in the distance.

I stroked the poor mare's face. Her deep brown eyes closed every time I touched her. I looked over her body and bit back more tears. I could count every rib and her prominent hip bones made me cringe. Her coarse bay coat was crusted over with a mixture of blood, mud and her own dried on filth. Strips of her coat were missing from her body as the apparent overuse of something had been used to beat her. Weeping wounds, scabbed over cuts and one fresh deep gash on her shoulder – I didn't know where to look. This poor mare had been beaten and starved to the point of death. She possessed very little muscle – even her neck had turned into an ugly ewe shape from how thin she was.

I ran my fingers through her straggly forelock and rubbed her head. Wrapping a hand around the tip of an ear, I winced as I realised how cold she was.

"Please don't die," I said. Stray tears began to fall onto her cheek as I found myself willing Oliver to hurry up and think enough to bring a rug back with him.

Kody dropped his head and sniffed at her mane. He gave her a gentle nuzzle and she responded with a ghost of a nicker. She sighed and closed her eyes. My heart stopped and I focused on her belly, waiting for it to rise. Seconds passed. Had she just died?

"No," I whispered, rubbing her head again. "Don't give up."

Her eyes flickered open and she took a breath. Thank god!

A rumbling from behind me tugged my attention from her. An old landrover, its headlights on full beam, was speeding towards us at a rate of knots. Kody lifted his head and watched, his attention fully focused on the approaching vehicle. It stopped several feet away, its engine and lights still on.

The door opened and a pair of crusty old wellies appeared first.

I groaned.

"What have I told yer about yer and yer pesky 'orses on my land!"

Fred Thompson came striding over, a double barrelled shotgun in one hand and his faithful black lab, Max, trotting along behind. He was a spindly old man with a weathered and wrinkled face and a foul mouth.

When he saw the mare, he stopped and scratched his head. "Oh. I see. D'ya want some 'elp?"

"Please, Mr Thompson, if you don't mind?"

"Well, the quicker I 'elp, the quicker yer'll get off my land."

I rolled my eyes at his grumpy nature. I'd never known him to say a kind word. My dad had always insisted he was a good man and would do anything for anyone. I held my own opinion.

"What d'yer need?"

"Have you got anything to help keep her warm? A sheet of some sort?"

"I got some straw but that'd make a mess on me field-"

"I'll pay for any damage, Mr Thompson. I promise. She's dying. Please. Anything you've got, she needs it."

He gave a curt nod before disappearing into the back of his car. He appeared a minute or two later with a bale of straw. He cut the baling twine and looked at me.

"Just shake it loose and cover her with it. Please."

He nodded and did as I asked in silence. Max come over, sniffing her. He wagged his tail and licked my hand when I patted him. Mr Thompson finished with the straw and disappeared back in the rear of his car. He came back with a huge duvet.

"Yer never know when yer could get caught out."

I smiled, nodding. "Thank you."

The grubby white fabric covered her thin frame from her shoulders to well past her wispy tail. Once he'd laid the duvet over her, he straightened up and scratched his head.

"D'yer need me to call someone?"

I shook my head. "No, thank you. Oliver has-"

"Oliver?"

"Burnley," I replied. "We were riding along the edge of my fields this morning and saw her."

"Oh. I didn't realise yer knew Mr Burnley. Good friend o' mine, 'e is."

I smiled and nodded. "He is riding dad's horse for the hunt season. He's gone to get some help."

He nodded. And then – smiled. I nearly fainted. "Any friend o' Mr Burnley's is a friend o' mine."

I smiled but internally, frowned. Had his acquaintance with my father not been enough for him to tolerate me?

"Are yer ok, Miss Isabella? D'yer need a coat?"

The cold had seeped through my clothes to the point where I was numb. I didn't actually know how I was going to stand up.

"I'm good thank you, Mr Thompson."

"Fred."

"Ok, thank you, Fred."

"She guna live?"

I sighed. "I want her to but I honestly think the vet will say to put her down."

"Probably most kind. She's in a right ol' state. Poor thing."

I pursed my lips but said nothing. I knew she was in a state – any fool could see that. But I didn't want her to die. She deserved a good life – a chance to know what love and kindness was and I'd be damned before anyone went near her with a needle or a bullet.

*Sadly, the image for this chapter is that of a real life emaciation case. The horse was called Sunny and was too weak to stand. If anyone is interested, the story can be found here: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2198422/Sunny-horrifically-emaciated-horse-lay-dying-tiny-yard.html 

Sunny didn't make it unfortunately. Will this mare that Izzy has found make it? As always, please remember to vote and comment folks - love to know what you think of my work!*