The lunar light cast him in beautiful shadows, making his grey coat look almost pearlescent white. Even from this distance, I could easily tell he was a he. The crest in his neck, his body, the tell-tale sign underneath his stomach, he was every inch a stallion in his prime.

As he moved, his muscles rippled, making him look absolutely spectacular. This moorland wasn't horse territory though. What was he doing out here all alone in the middle of the night? And how badly was he injured?

Just like every other little girl, I'd dreamed of having my own pony when I was younger. I'd spent hours poring over horse books, learning about all the breeds and different disciplines. Many days had been taken up daydreaming about show jumping on a magnificent Thoroughbred or doing piaffes and effortless passage on stunning Andalusians.

This horse was clearly neither of those. Under the silvery light, he looked to be a chunky sort, possibly a native breed. The way he hobbled on one of his front legs though really concerned me. I carefully rose to my feet, intent on getting as close to him as I could to try and gauge his injury better.

I knew he couldn't be wild. There were no wild horse herds on Bodmin, and he was far too big to be a Dartmoor stallion. Plus, he looked far too well with his gleaming coat to be anything but an escaped domestic horse. That meant I should be able to get close enough to him to be able to potentially help him.

As carefully as I could, I tip toed along the treeline, watching him for any signs of him having heard me moving. He'd come to a stop at the small river to the south of the trees and was taking a drink with his rear end facing me.

Stepping out of the shadows, I moved towards him. I managed to make around six feet before his head shot up, his ears twitching back and forth. I froze, my heart pounding. On his left shoulder, I could just make out a dark streak running down his leg. His knee looked to be pretty swollen too.

Now around thirty metres from him, I could tell he was a Connemara and an absolutely stunning example of the breed at that. Considering he was entire, and where his injuries were, I guessed he had escaped from his field. Someone would be missing him in a few short hours when they woke up to go and feed him.

"Hey, boy," I whispered, taking another step towards him.

He snorted and turned to face me. He pricked his ears so far forward they were almost touching at the tips.

"You look pretty beat up there," I said. "Looks like you need some help."

He stamped his good front foot on the ground and tossed his head up and down.

"Ok, ok," I said, holding my hands up and slowly sinking to the floor.

His entire body quivered and trembled—he was ready to flee at any second. I didn't want to cause him alarm nor give him reason to potentially hurt himself even more.

For several minutes I sat there, simply looking up at him, admiring his natural beauty. He didn't falter in his attention on me for a second. Just as I began to wonder how long we were going to be taking part in this stand-off, a rabbit popped up a few feet in front of him. By the time I'd realised what it was, he'd fled, his tail high up in the air and his hooves thundering across the ground.

***

By the time dawn broke on the horizon, I was more than ready for some sleep. My stomach grumbled at me finally and I gave in and ate a biscuit of my emergency rations. A biscuit didn't sound much but this stuff was awesome. It increased in volume when mixed with liquid which meant as soon as it hit my stomach, it swelled and filled me up nicely.

I finished the last of my water and wandered down to the river to refill my bottle. The water quality of the De Lank river was renowned for being exceptional. The source of it was right here on Bodmin which meant nothing flowed up, only down. I wasn't stupid enough to drink it neat though.

Filling the litre bottle, I carried it back to my bag and fished out my iodine drops. I read the instructions in the breaking dawn light. Five to ten drops per litre of water. Closer to ten if the water source was still or the water was cloudy. Closer to five if the water was flowing or clear. I decided to go for the middle ground and added seven drops.

I had to then wait five minutes, thread the bottle so the rim was free from bacteria and such as well, and then wait a further thirty minutes before the water was drinkable. I decided after threading the bottle, which simply meant turning the bottle upside down and unscrewing the lid until water leaked from all around the cap, then turning it back the right way, I would have a nap.

As I waited to thread the bottle, I scanned the horizon, looking for the Connemara stallion. I couldn't see him at all. I hoped wherever he'd gone, he'd find his way home and that his injuries weren't too bad.

Dawn fully broke out over the moor, giving me a glorious scenic view of orange rays spilling out over the plains, basking everything in a bright sunshine. The birds were in full song and the heat from the sun rise was already making the ground mist after a damp night.

I threaded my bottle, looked inside the trees, and decided it was time to rest. I could fully see inside now daylight had broken. After scouring the area carefully, I chose my spot at the north end of the trees. Any walkers or animals would stick to the river and the further away from people I was, the better.

The north end of the trees sat parallel to a derelict barn and dry stone corral. I would investigate them later on when I woke up. After all, a solid roof over my head would be better than trees but for now, the trees would do.