When I woke, my head was pounding like hell. I went to move my left arm to put my hand to my head, but something stopped it from moving. Blinking the grogginess away, I focused my eyes to find myself in a room, strapped down to a table. My wrists and ankles were bound tight.

Panic surged through me. Where the hell was I and why was I tied up? I lifted my head to get a better view of the room but found myself crippled by a blinding pain in my left shoulder. I glanced over to see thick bandages covering it up.

Then I remembered the gunshot right before I fell off Blue. Had I been shot? Judging by the small red mark leaking through the bandages, I guessed so. Whoever would shoot a teenage girl and dart a horse? No one good, that was for sure.

I decided to study my surroundings as best as I could. I would find a way out of here even if it damn near killed me. The ceiling above me was wooden. Damp filled the air, invading my nose and making me feel ill. I laid my head down and tilted it back, trying to gauge the size of where I was.

When I saw a wooden wall staring back at me, inches from my head, I started to really worry. I bit my tongue through the pain of lifting my head and looked down towards my feet. A wooden door, just big enough for one person as an entrance and an exit. My stomach churned with dread. I was in a garden shed.

I heard a horse neigh from close by. Instinct told me it was Blue. I'd never heard him neigh but something in my gut told me it was him calling out. A desperate need to get to him filled me. His call was high pitched, frightened, shouting for help.

Biting the inside of my lip, I attempted to move my left arm, just to see how much use of it I would have. The instant I tried lifting it, hot searing agony hit me like a bulldozer. I clenched my fists and let tears leak from my eyes. The answer to that was no movement. Strapped down to a table in a garden shed with a bullet wound, this was a predicament only I could find myself in.

"Think, Blue, think," I said.

Then it struck me. I'd watched a fair few documentaries about people being kidnapped and murdered. The one thing everyone did that ended up getting them killed quicker was scream and create a fuss. All that did was annoy the perpetrator even more and make them see their victim as nothing but something that needed to be taken care of.

I needed them to see me as a fellow human being, not an annoying fly to swat and kill. As I laid there, I recalled what I remembered from when they circled me and Blue. Five vehicles. That meant at least five people. Four dogs. Two were collies. I think one had been a Rottweiler but the other I couldn't remember for the life of me. Quad bikes and collies. Usually something found on a farm. Collies were the A class dog for herding. But Blue wasn't a sheep.

Taking into account the five vehicles, which each needed a driver, and the fact Blue and I were both shot, that meant at least six people. Unless they were gangsters used to drive by shootings, they couldn't shoot a gun and drive. I knew for a fact the quad bikes only had one person each. The Land Rovers could have easily contained at least four people each but if this was the criminal enterprise I now suspected, numbers would be kept to a minimum.

Six people and four dogs. That was my challenge. I had no idea where the hell I even was let alone how to raise the alarm for help. I smiled at the irony. This would be a new one—me actually going to the authorities willingly. With my past history of being a runaway though, would they even believe me?

I pushed the negative thoughts to the back of my mind. I couldn't allow myself to be defeated before I'd even gotten out of here. Voices sounded from outside and I could hear footsteps coming towards the shed.

A bolt slid across the door, the screech of the metal piercing right through my skull and making my headache ten times worse. As the door opened, daylight flooded the dingy shed, blinding me momentarily as my eyes adjusted.

"Well, well, well," said a male voice. "She's awake."

"Hello, poppet," said a female voice. "How are you feeling?"

I blinked furiously until my vision returned. A big burly man stood to my right. Dressed in a blue boiler suit covered in mud, a flat cap, and streaks of grease all over his weathered face, he really did look like a farmer. His hazel eyes were hard and emotionless and the flat stare he gave me actually gave me the chills. Suddenly my past foster homes didn't seem so bad.

To my left, a petite old lady with a slight hunch back started undressing my bandages. A pair of glasses perched on the end of her nose like a librarian and the woollen cardigan she wore over her flowery dress made me think of a grandma. Not that I had one of those.

"Thirsty," I replied. "Can I have a drink please?"

The man snorted. "No."

The woman looked at him over the top of her glasses and narrowed her eyes at him. "Fetch her some water."

"Water means she'll need the toilet which means more chance of escape," he said, his gravelly voice sending a shiver down my spine.

The woman rolled her eyes. "For goodness sake, Colin. Just do as your damn well told before I tell Barry."

Colin muttered something under his breath and stomped back outside. Through my limited view of the open door, I could see a farmyard. Churned up mud, gravel, an open sided barn with an old tractor and straw bales, and some sort of evergreen hedge.

"I'm Edith," the lady said. "I do apologise for this little situation we have here."

"It's ok," I said, smiling at her. "Exactly the kind of thing I'd get myself into."

She chuckled as she removed the last of my bandages. "Healing nicely from the looks of it. I'm going to clean it so this may sting a bit."

I watched as she used a pair of forceps to pick up a gauze pad, dip it in water, and then scrub my shoulder with it. If I thought trying to move it had been painful. I was sorely mistaken. The pain from her touching the open wound had me seeing stars. Nausea swelled in my stomach. A deep ache accompanied the firing heat blazing through my muscles.

"Nearly done," she said. "You're doing spectacularly well. This antiseptic is a bitch but it's good stuff."

Even though that explained some of the pain, it didn't make me feel any better at all. Still, at least she was using antiseptic. I smiled as I thought about Blue. Had this been how he'd felt when I'd put my Savlon on his knee wound? No wonder he wouldn't let me touch his shoulder afterwards.

"Where's my horse?" I asked, trying to distract myself from the stinging in my shoulder.

"We both know he's not your horse, poppet," she said, putting a clean pad on my bullet wound. "But he is safe and unharmed. He's a tricky one, that one. Not the first time we've had to dart him."

"Can I see him?"

She laughed. "You're ballsy, missy, I'll give you that."

I grinned. "If you don't ask, you don't get."

"That is very true," she replied, applying a fresh bandage. "My dad used to say the same thing."

"I'm hardly going anywhere, am I?" I said, looking down at my shoulder. "I don't have anywhere to go to anyway."

"I must admit, I have been wondering what on earth a pretty little thing like you would be doing riding a wild stallion in the middle of the moor."

"Wild? He's not wild."

She tweaked her thin pink lips up into a smile. "He may as well be. None of us can do anything with him. Just before he escaped, he nearly killed Colin." Her smile turned into a grin and she whispered, "Between you and me that wouldn't have been a bad thing."

I giggled. "Not very friendly, is he?"

"He's a typical local I'm afraid. Doesn't like outsiders or anything he's not familiar with. He won't even eat his dinner without gravy because that's all he knows."

I laughed. "Each to their own."

Colin returned then with my glass of water. I smiled at him and said thank you but didn't even get eye contact from him. He really didn't want me to have this water.

"Untie her please, Colin," Edith said, undoing my left wrist.

"Are you crazy?" he said, his voice rising by ten decibels. "She's going to run."

Edith tutted at him. "Where is she going to run to exactly?"

"Home. The police."

"You should pay more attention to the local news. She's the runaway everyone has been looking for. She's going nowhere."

Colin pressed his lips together so tight, his moustache nearly met his goatee. Without a further word, he yanked at the wrist restraint and let me free. As they undid my ankle ties, I thought to myself that was rather easy. The question still remained—now what?