DarlingCharmingandtheHorseofaDifferentColor

ALittleSirGallopadStory

BySuzanneSelfors

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InaccordancewiththeU.S.Copyright

Actof1976,thescanning,uploading,andelectronicsharingofanypartof

thisbookwithoutthepermissionofthepublisherisunlawfulpiracyandtheftoftheauthor’sintellectualproperty.Ifyouwouldliketousematerialfromthe

book(otherthanforreviewpurposes),priorwrittenpermissionmustbe

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The stables at Ever AfterHigh, a boarding school forthe sons and daughters offairytale characters, were noordinarystables. In fact, theywerequitehextraordinary,forthey’d been designed tohouse a variety of magicalcreatures.

One entire wing of the

facility had been built ofstoneandthicklycoatedwithfire-repellent paint, in case astudentneededtoboardapetdragon.Theunicornstallwasplanted with thick vines andtrees, since unicorns love tohide. The Pegasus stall wasextra-wide, allowing for thestretching and grooming ofwings, and the griffin stallcontainedaperchandalargenest.

But not all the creaturesthat slept in the stables weremagical. There were quite afew horses at Ever AfterHigh. All the King’s Horseswerethelargestandmost ill-tempered. They served Allthe King’s Men, patrollingthe campus at night to makesure students didn’t try tosneak out and break theheadmaster’s curfew. But ofequal importance, they made

surenoonetriedtosneakin,likeavillageboywho’dbeenstarstruck by DarlingCharming’s family fame, oranogrewhohadahankeringforHagatha’sstonesoup.AlltheKing’sHorseswereblackasnight,withcroppedmanesandflarednostrils.Theywererespected and feared. Nostudentswereallowedtoridethem.

The prettiest horses were

reserved for thePrincessologystudents.Thesegentle beasts were selectedfor their calm dispositions.Part of a princess’sthronework was learning togroom her individual horse.Their manes were constantlybeing braided, dyed, andcurled. It took a special typeof horse to put up with thatmuchfussing.

Then there were the

horses ridden by the HeroTraining students. Theyvaried in shape, size, andpersonality, but all had onething in common—strength.These horses had to gallop,jump,andswimacrossmoatswhile carrying a rider whowasheavywitharmor.

Last, and certainly least,there were the oddballs. Themisfits. The ones that didn’tquite fit inbuthad somehow

endedupatEverAfterHigh.There was the mule thatpulled Groundskeeper GreenThumb’s cart, haulingweedsand delivering vegetables tothe school’s Castleteria.There was the donkey thatgaveridestoyoungersiblingswhen they came to visit, aswell as the llama thatbasically just stood aroundandspatatpassersby.

And then there was the

horse who could changecolors.

Andhere’s howhe endedupatEverAfterHigh.

Like most creatures thatare lost and then found, thehorse had a backstory thatwasshortonjoyandlongonsorrow. He was born, asmanyhorsesare,inabarnona farm. The farmers, PeterPumpkin-Eater and his wife,

Penelope Pumpkin-Eater,grew pumpkins, of course—some large enough to behollowed out and lived in,and others of the perfectshape to be turned intocoaches.ThePumpkin-Eatersrequired muscular drafthorses to pull the plows inspringandhaulthepumpkinstomarketinfall.Afterayear,it became clear that oneparticular foal wasn’t going

to grow as big as the others.Hewasnotonlyagoodheadshorterbutalso skinnier thanmost,andthuswasn’tcutoutfor pumpkin farming. Andeven though he possessed abeautiful coat of pure whitehair, the Pumpkin-Eatersdidn’t want to keep him.“What good’s a pretty horseif he can’t do his share ofwork?” Peter asked as henibbled on roasted pumpkin

seeds.“You got that right!”

Penelope said as she sprayedwhipped cream on a hugesliceofpumpkinpie.Sotheyhung a sign around thehorse’s neck that read RUNTFOR SALE, FIVE DOLLARS andtied him to the fence at theend of their long driveway.Then they hung a jar aroundhisneck.“Havethemput themoney in this here jar,”

Penelopetoldthehorse.Theyfilled a bowl with water andanother with oats, then lefthim there to wait. The horseate all the oats and drank allthewater.Thenhewonderedwhatwouldhappennext.

Nothing much happened—at least, not right away. Abutterfly landed on thehorse’snose,thenflewaway.Apairofsongbirdsquarreledonanearbybranch.Abeetle

dug a hole in the dirt anddisappeared.Butnoonecamedown the road, not even bypumpkin carriage. Hourspassed.Thedaygrewhotandthehorsegrewbored.Heateall the grass he could find,thenbegantonibblethevinesthat clung to the fence posts.And just when his eyelidsbegan to feel heavy and hewas about to lie down for anap, he heard a sound—a

chugging in the distance. Heflickedhisears,thenstompedonefronthoof.Someonewascoming! Would it be a newowner who would feed himlots of oats and let him runfree in a field? He snortedwithexcitement.

The truck’s brakesscreechedasitstoppedat thedriveway. The driver’s dooropened, and a red fox indenim overalls stepped out.

The horse watched curiouslyas the fox sauntered up tohim.

“I do declare, it’s mightytoasty out here.” The foxpulled a handkerchief fromhis pocket and dabbed at hisfurryforehead.

The passenger dooropened,andacathoppedout.He was heavyset and waswearing the same kind ofdenimoveralls.Healsowore

a pair of dark glasses.“Why’dwestop?Didyafindus a job?” He pulled a canefrom the truck and tapped itonthegroundashewalked.

“IstoppedbecauseIthinkI found us our next meal.”The fox smiled slyly at thehorse.

The cat smiled. His teethappearedtobeverysharp.“Isit a pigeon? Or a mouse? Ilovemeagoodmouse.”

“No.It’sahorse.”The cat stopped in his

tracks. He tucked his caneunder his arm. “I don’t eathorse,”he saidwith a scowl.“Igotmeadelicatepalate.”

The fox rolled his eyes.“The horse is not to eat, mydearestfriend.Thehorseistosell.”

The cat, who was blind,ran his fingers along hiswhiskers. “Sell? But don’t it

belongtosomeone?”“Indeed it does not.” The

fox tucked his handkerchiefback into his pocket. “It iswearing a sign that says‘Free.’”

Even though the horsecouldn’t get a good look atthesign,hewasprettysureitdidn’t say FREE. Mrs.Pumpkin-Eater had said toputthemoneyinthejar.ThePumpkin-Eaters never gave

anythingaway.Thefoxstrodearound the

horse. “It’s a runt, and a biton the skinny side, but I’mcertain it will fetch enoughmoney tobuyusanicemealatthatrestaurantyoulike.”

Thecat clappedhispaws.“Oooh, you mean the Boneand Gristle? I love thatplace.” The fox untied thesign and the jar and tossedthem aside. “Greetings to

you,kindhorse.IamMr.Foxand this is my travelingcompanion,Mr. Cat.We aredelighted to make youracquaintance.” Though hewas using very politewords,there was a wicked tone tothe fox’s voice, and it madethe horse wary. He tried tostepaway.“There isnoneedto be afraid,” the fox toldhim, with a sly look in hiseyes. “Are you hungry,

perchance?”Was he hungry?The oats

had run out hours ago, andthe small patches of grassweren’tdoingmuchtofillhistummy.Henoddedeagerly.

“Then, good sir, comewith me and you shall berewarded with some vittles.”Thefoxuntied theropefromthe fence and started to leadthehorsetowardthetruck.

With food on his mind,

thehorsefollowedthefoxupa ramp and into the truck’sbed. Once inside, the horselookedaround.Thetruckbedwas empty. No food. Nowater. He neighed andwhipped around just as theback doors slammed shut,leavinghimintotaldarkness.Then the truck’s enginerumbled to life and thewheels began to roll. Thehorse’s legs trembled with

fear. Something was terriblywrong. Where were theytakinghim?

Up at the farmhouse, thePumpkin-Eaters were toobusy eating pumpkin pie tonotice that their horse hadbeenstolen.

The ride was long andbumpy.Thehorsecouldhearthe fox and the cat singingalong to the radio.Then they

started arguing about wherethey should sell their newlyacquiredproperty.

“I know a wicked witchwho uses horse tails in herpotions,” the cat said. “Andthere are those twokidswhokeeptumblingdownthathill.I bet they’d like a horse tocarrytheirpailofwater.”

“While those are worthysuggestions, I have an ideathat is much better,” the fox

said.“Yeah,whatisit?”“Trustme.HaveIeverled

youastray?”“Only on a daily basis,”

the cat said. Then the truckveeredsharplytotheleft.

The horse, who’d neverbeen anywhere but thePumpkin-Eaters’farm,layonthe cold floor of the truck’sbed and sighed.Hewouldn’thave minded carrying water

for two clumsy kids, but hecertainly didn’t want tobecome a part of a witch’spotion. He hoped this roadwould take him somewherenice—or at least somewherethathadafullbowlofoats.

The horse awoke to thesound of the truck doorsopening. He squinted assunlight streamed in. “Comeon,” the cat said, yanking on

the rope that was still tiedaround thehorse’s neck.Thehorse got to his hooves andwalked down the ramp andinto a place that was asdifferent from the farm asoats are different frompumpkins.Heblinked.Wherewashe?

A large, colorful tentstoodbeforehim.Thebannerabove the entrance read THEPUPPETEER’S TRAVELING

PUPPET SHOW. A line ofparents and children stood attheticketwindow.“Buyyourtickets for the show,” a mancalled as he walked throughthe crowd. “The puppets aresolifelikeyou’llthinkthey’rereal!” Another man handedout balloons while a thirdsold root beer floats from awheeled cart. The scent ofbuttered popcorn and cottoncandy puffballs filled the

horse’s nostrils. His stomachgrowled.

The children all seemedexcited for the show. Somesquealed with happiness.Others ran in circles aroundtheir parents’ legs. “Do notrun,” one of the motherscalled to her daughter. “ACharming princess neverruns. A Charming princesswaits patiently.” The littlegirl,who’dbeenchasingafter

two boys, returned to hermother’ssideintheline.

“Whathavewehere?”Anelderly man with a mop ofsilver hair approached.“That’s a lovely little horse,Mr.Fox.Didyoustealit?”

“Indeed I did not, Mr.Puppeteer,” the fox saidwithabow.“Wehavemendedourold ways. This horse isrightfullyours.”

“Rightfully ours,” the cat

saidwithanod.“However…” The fox

flickedhislongredtail.Thenhepressedhispaws together.“Wedofindourselvesinabitof a financial predicamentandcouldusesomecash.Wemight be persuaded to partwiththislovelybeast,fortherightprice.”

ThePuppeteerstrokedthehorse’s white mane. “He’s abeauty,nodoubtaboutit,but

he needs fattening up. Youhaven’t been feeding himenough.”

“Onaccountofourlackoffunds,” the fox said with ashrug.

The Puppeteer’s smile setthehorseatease.“Icouldusehimtopullthepuppetwagon.And I’d better take him offyourhands,justtomakesurehe’s treated right.” ThePuppeteerpulledawell-worn

leather wallet from his backpocket. After a quick roundof negotiating, the puppetmasterhandedthefoxacrispbill.

“We are most grateful,”thefoxsaid.

The cat licked his lips.“To the Bone and Gristle!”Thenwithoutfurtherado, thefox and the cat jumped backinto their truck and droveaway.

“Welcome to your newhome,” thePuppeteer said asheremovedtheropefromthehorse’s neck. The horse wasgrateful to be free of hiscaptors.Hebowedhishead.

It turned out that thePuppeteer was a kindly oldman. The horse ate well andfattened up in no time.Despite his small stature, hegrew strong enough to pullthe little puppet cart. The

Puppeteer and his crewtraveled from village tovillage, putting on puppetshows during the day andsleeping beneath the stars atnight.Ittookonlyafewdaysfor the horse to adjust to thenomadic lifestyle. And aslongashisbellywas full,hewascontent.

Butafewyearslaterinhiscareer with the Puppeteer’sTraveling Puppet Show, fate

stepped in, as it tends to do,andeverythingchanged.

On that particular, fatefulnight, theshowwassoldout.Thetentechoedwithlaughteras people watched twopuppetsbonkeachotheroverthe heads with pie pans androllingpins.Thecottoncandymaker couldn’t spin fastenough to meet the demand,and so much popcorn was

spilled that it looked like asnowstorm. When the showwas over, the horse stoodnext to his wagon. Kidshuddled around, petting andhugging him. He alwayslovedthatpartoftheevening,especiallylickingthepopcornsalt and caramel apple goothatlingeredontheirfingers.

“Well, I do declare.” Thehorse looked up and saw afamiliarfacesmirkingathim.

“I see you’ve been eatingwell,”theFoxsaid.

“While we’ve beenstarving.”The cat stood nexttothefox.Hewasleaningonhis cane. “That don’t seemfair.”

“Indeed it does not.” Thefox flicked his tail. “Wefound the horse this nicehome, and now he’s eatingbetterthanus.”Theydidlooka bit worse for wear. The

fox’s overalls had beenpatchedat theknees, and thecat’s were covered in stains.And both critters lookedsorelyinneedofagoodbath.

“Since we find ourselvesshort on cash, should weacquire him again?” the foxaskedthecat.

“Soundslikeaplantome.Them trolls pay goodmoneyforhorsemeat.”

“Yes, theydo.We’llwait

until dark.” After a wickedlaugh,thefoxandthecatgotinto their truck and droveaway.

The horse had no way totell the Puppeteer what hadhappened. That night, whilethe Puppeteer and his crewate their supper inside thetent,thehorseateabucketofalfalfa. The stars twinkledand the crickets sang, andafter finishing his delicious

meal, thehorsesettledonhisbed of straw and closed hiseyesforanicesleep.

“Getup,”afamiliarvoicewhispered. A tuggingsensationwoke thehorse.Hedarted to his hooves. Thenight was moonless, and athick, pea soup fog haddriftedin.Someonehadtiedarope aroundhisneck, andhewas being pulled away fromhis straw bed. Whoever was

pulling him was strong. Assoon as he saw the truck’sheadlights, he knew that thefox and cat were trying tostealhimagain.

He neighed. He kicked.He bucked until he’d brokenfreeoftherope.Thecattriedto grab his mane. The foxtried to grab his tail.Panicked, the horse spunaround twice, throwing thevillainsaside,thenturnedand

galloped away as fast as hecould. The cat jumped intothe truck and followed.Headlights closed in. Theroad was no longer safe.Summoning all his strengthand speed, the horse leapedover a drainage ditch anddartedintothewoods.

Some branches nearlytripped him, but hemanagedto charge deeper and deeperinto the forest. As the

headlights disappeared fromview, the forest grew pitchblack. The sound of thetruck’s engine faded. Thehorse leaned against a tree,trying to steady his breath.All he could hear was hisown heart pounding. But itonly tooka fewmoments forthat drumming to beinterruptedbytwovoices.

“Whereishe?Doyouseehim?”

“No. I don’t see nothingbuttrees.”

Two flashlight beamsswept the forest. The horsedidn’tdaremove,forasinglestep would draw attention.The beams swung left, thenright, getting closer andcloser.Whatcouldhedo?Hissilky white hair would standout in the darkness like asnowball in a sea of trollmud. He’d have to gallop

again. But it was impossibleto see. He’d be caught forsure.

Thebeams fell uponhim.Oh no! This was it! He’dbecome thekey ingredient inawitch’spotion.Or stew fora troll family.Butassoonasthe beams had landed, theymoved away. I need to hide,the horse thought. I wish Icouldbeinvisible.

“Istilldon’tseenothing,”

the cat said. The flashlightbeams swept over the horseagain, but they didn’t linger.“Nope,nothingthere.”

Howcantheynotseeme?the horse wondered. They’relookingrightatme.

“Drat!” complained thefox. “Well, I guess we’dbetter hit the road and findsomethingelsewecansteal.”

Thehorsewaiteduntilthetruckhaddrivenawayandthe

headlights had faded. Exceptfor a distant hooting owl, allwassilent.

Exhausted and frightened,he collapsed to the forestfloor.

Atsunrise,asthefirstraysof light filtered through thetrees,thehorsemadehiswayoutoftheforest.Then,likearacehorse, he galloped downthe road, eager to have his

breakfast. But when hereached the field, his spiritssank. Everything had beenpacked up and carted away.The tent was gone, and sowere the Puppeteer and hiscrew. Why didn’t they waitforme?DidtheythinkI’drunaway?DidtheythinkI’dbeenstolen? He snorted withfrustration. Perhaps he couldcatch up with them. They’dbe making their way to the

nextvillage.Ifhegallopedasfast as he could, he’d surelyreachthem.

Down the road hecharged, his white manerippling, his hooves kickinguprocksanddust.Hepasseda sign that read VILLAGE OFBOOK END, 30 MILES. Thatdidn’t seem too far. And ifthe Puppeteer wasn’t there,then surely a nice villagerwouldgivehimsomethingto

eat.Buteachtimeheheardanengine approaching, a shiveroffeardarteddownhisspineand he dashed off the road,into the woods. What if thefox and cat drove this way,looking for him? The roadsuddenly felt too dangerous,sohedecidedtowalkthroughtheforest,keepingtheroadinview.When he grew thirsty,he followed his nose to ababbling brook. The water

wascrispandclear.Whenhisstomach began to rumble, hefound a quiet grove where adeerhad stopped to eatbark.The horse had never knownthatbarkwas edible.He toreapiecefromanearbytree.Ittastedokay,butitwashardtoswallow. He munched onsome leaves, but they werebitter and stung his mouth.He searched for some grass,or perhaps a patch of moss.

And that was when herealized that the roadwasnolongerinview.

Thehorsewaslost.He hung his head, heavy

withsadness.Withasigh,hesanktotheforestfloor.

How much time passed,hewasn’t certain, but a littlebuzzing sound woke himfrom his daze. A smallcreatureflewaroundhishead,leaving a trail of blue-and-

greenglitterintheair.Wingsflitted wildly as the insectzipped round and round.Thehorsehadbeenstungbyabeeonce and he didn’t want torepeat that incident, so hescrambledtohisfeet,readytoboltdeeperintotheforest.

“What are you doinghere?” The insect hovered infront of the horse’s face. Hecocked his head in wonder.The creature wasn’t a bee

after all, but a very smallpersonwithwings.Sheheldalittlemop in one hand and atiny bucket in the other.“Shouldn’t you be with therest of the creatures? Theceremony is going to beginverysoon.”

What was she talkingabout?What other creatures?Hisearsflattened.

“Oh,don’tbescared.Howrude of me. My name is

Viola. I’ma cleaning fairy. Iwork at the school.” Shepointed in the oppositedirection. “It’s a very niceplace. You’ll be very happythere, I promise.You’ll havea stable to sleep in, and lotsofgoodfoodtoeat.”

Hisearsperkedup.“You’re a very pretty

horse.One of the students issure to love and adore you.Come on or you’ll be late.”

She turned and flew out ofthe grove. “Follow me,” shecalled.

The horse followed thecleaning fairy to a meadow,where a crowd of creatureshad gathered. “This iswhereI’ll leave you,” the fairywhispered in the horse’s ear.“Wait for your instructions,and you’ll soon be at theschool.”Specksofglitter fell

onto the horse’s nose as thefairy flewaway.Hesneezed.Some of the other creaturesturned and looked at him. Asmall snow fox, who lookednothing like the wicked Mr.Fox,motionedforhimtojoinher.Sohedid.

“Attention! Attention!” avoice commanded. Anotherfairy, this one much largerthan the last, stood on a logand waved her arms.

“Welcome to the EnchantedForest. Not far from here,severalstudentsatEverAfterHighhavegatheredtoreceivetheir companion creatures.Each of youwill be selectedforaparticular student.Yourjobwillbetoaidthatstudentin the quest to fulfill his orher fairytaledestiny.”As sheclearedherthroat,alittlepuffof glitter floated from hermouth. “The ceremony will

begin soon, and I need tomake sure everyone is inattendance. Please make asound when I call yourname.” She began to readfrom a clipboard. “Snowfox.” The white fox tappedher paw on the ground.“Pegasus.” A winged horsesnorted. “Peacock.” A birdstepped onto the log andbegan to strut around. Thenhistailfeathersopenedintoa

glorious blue-and-green fan.Theotheranimalsapplauded.

“Dragon,” the fairy said.Branches cracked, and theforest floor trembled as abeastwithscalessteppedintothe clearing. With eyes likeredflamesandsmokedriftingfromhernostrils,shewasthemost terrifying creature thehorse had ever seen. With ashriek, he darted behind atree.

Imusthide,hethought.“My, my, my,” the fairy

said as she flew over to thetree. “What have we here?”Shehoveredafewfeetofftheground and spoke gently tothe horse. “First of all, youhave nothing to be afraid of.The dragon will not harmyou. And second of all, areyou aware that you arecamouflaged?”Shepointedtohisleg.

The horse frowned.Whatwas she talking about? Hepeered down at his front leg.It looked just like tree bark.His other leg did, too. Hisears flattened again. Whathadhappenedtohim?

“Ahorsewhocanchangecolors is very special andveryrareindeed.”Shelookedat her clipboard. “I don’t seeyournameonthelist,butI’msure we’ll find a match.

There’sboundtobeastudentwho needs the ability tohide.”Shereturnedtoherlog.

Changecolors?Thehorsecouldn’t believe it. Is thatwhy the fox and cat hadn’tbeen able to see him eventhough they’d shined theirflashlightsrightathim?He’dwanted to hide, so he’dchanged colors to blend inwith theforest.Amazing!Hestuck his front leg into a

clump of tall daisies andthought about hiding. Sureenough,his leg turnedgreen,with little white spots thatlooked exactly like theflowers. He neighed withdelight. No one had evercalledhimspecialbefore.

“Excuse me.” The fairywaved. “But we havebusinesstoattendto.”Happyabout his new discovery, thehorse pranced back to the

littlesnowfox.Shesmiledathim.

“Here’showtheceremonyworks,” the fairy explained.“Eachstudenthasbeengivena popper that contains amagical spell. The spell willconnect the student to his orher special creature. Whenthe student pulls the popper,we will hear a snappingsound,andabright lightwillappearinthesky.Thismeans

that the spell has beenactivatedand thatoneofyouwill be magically drawn tothat student. It’sas simpleasthat!” She flew above theirheads. “Good luck,everyone.”

To think that he’d beenrunning forhis life from twovillains,hadlosthisway,andwasabouttomeetaboyoragirlwhowouldloveandtakecare of him! The horse

stompedinanticipation.Snap! A flash of light

filled the sky, followed byanother snap and anotherlight. “Oooh, those are thefirst two spell poppers,” thefairy said. And right beforetheir eyes, the snow fox andthepeacockdisappeared.Thefairyclappedherhands.“Thisissohexciting.”

More snapping and moreflashes, and one by one, a

woodpecker, a direwolf pup,and a babybear disappeared.Next went the unicorn, thePegasus, and the jackalope.The dragon was the last todisappear, leaving the horsealoneintheclearing.

“Oh dear, have you beenforgotten?” the fairywondered. “Well, your namewasn’t on the list, after all.Perhaps you’re not meant tobe here.Maybe if you come

backnextyear,therewillbeamatchforyou.”

The horse hung his head.He’dcomesoclosetohavinga real home.He turnedawayfromthefairysoshecouldn’tsee the tears pooling in hiseyes.

Snap! The skyilluminated. And the groundgavewaybeneaththehorse’shooves.

He was standing in adifferent part of the forest.Girlsandboyswerelaughing.A girl with thick curls washoldingthebabybear.Aboywith black-framed glasseswas holding the jackalope.The dragon was being ledawaybyagirlwith jet-blackhair and a shimmering blackdress.

The horse perked up hisears.He’dmadeit.He’dbeen

chosen.Butforwhom?He looked around. Every

creature had found a student.The peacock was walkingnext to a boy who wore agolden crown.And the snowfoxhadcurledherselfaroundthe neck of a girl who alsoworeacrown.

And then he saw her,standing alone. Her hair aspale as moonlight, and hersmile the sweetest he’d ever

seen. “Hello,” she said,holding out her palm. Hesniffed her. Then he bowedhis head. She ran her fingersthrough his mane. “Myname’s Darling Charming. Iguessyou’remyhorsenow.”She scratched his chin. “Iwonderwhyyouwerechosenforme.”

“I’ll tell you why.” Theboywith thepeacockwalkedup to them. He put an arm

around the girl’s shoulder.“He was chosen for youbecause he’s on the smallside.MomandDadwouldn’twantyou to rideabighorse.They’dbeworriedyoumightget hurt. This horse looksnice and safe.” He gave hershoulder a squeeze. Then heand the peacock struttedaway.

Darling rolled her eyes.“Safe,” she grumbled. “I’m

neverallowed todoanythingdangerous.Orhexciting.”Shecupped a hand around hermouth and whispered in thehorse’sear.“ButIhavesomesecrets. I’m not exactly as Iappear.” She winked. “Whataboutyou?”

Heimmediatelyturnedthecolor of her blue-and-silverdress. She laughed. “I guessyou’re not exactly as youappear, either.” While the

other students left theclearing, Darling walkedaround the horse. “It’s truewhat my brother said. Myparents only want me ridinggentlehorses.Andtheypreferthat I ride sidesaddle andwear a helmet.” Then, eventhough no one else wasaround, she whispered in hisear again. “But what theydon’tknowisthatIlovetogofast.Canyougallop?”

Couldhegallop?Like thewind! he wanted to say. Butinstead, he nodded andstompedhisfronthoof.

“Really?” Darling lookedaround.Then,withagracefuljump, shepulledherselfontohisback.Herfingersgrippinghismane, she said, “They’veall gone back to campus.Noone will see us. Show mewhatyou’vegot!”

And as they galloped out

of the clearing and throughthe nearby field, DarlingCharming laughed withdelight. “You can gallop!”shesaid.

After anexhilarating ride,Darling slid off the horse’sback and wrapped her armsaroundhisneck.“Thankyou.That was the most fun I’vehadinaverylongtime.”Thehorse felt the sameway.Hislife thus far had been such a

rocky journey, short on joyand long on sorrow. But asDarling led him toward theshiny Ever After Highstables, he knew in his heartthathisstoryhadchanged.

“Ihopeyoudon’tmindif,onoccasion,Iaskyoutouseyour camouflage skills.” Shegiggled.“Justsowecanhavea fun adventure now andthen.” He nodded. Shestopped walking and looked

into his eyes. “And, becauseyou’rethehorseofaprincess,I think you should have theperfectknightlyname.Ishallhereby call you SirGallopad.” She kissed bothhischeeks,thenbowed.

He smiled and bowed inreturn.

Andhisstorybegan.

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AbouttheAuthor

SuzanneSelfors feels likeaRoyal on some days and aRebelonothers.She’swrittenmany books for kids,including the Smells LikeDogseriesandtheImaginaryVeterinaryseries.

She has two charmingchildren and lives in a

magical island kingdom,where she hopes it is herdestiny to write storiesforeverafter.

LookforotherdigitaloriginalstoriesfromEverAfterHigh!

Don’tmissalltheEverAfterHighnovels!

BooksbySuzanneSelfors:NextTopVillainKissandSpell

ASemi-CharmingKindofLife

BooksbyShannonHale:TheStorybookofLegendsTheUnfairestofThemAllAWonderlandifulWorldOnceUponaTime:AStory

Collection

Contents

CoverTitlePageWelcome

BeginReading

AbouttheAuthor

LookforotherdigitaloriginalstoriesfromEverAfterHigh!Copyright

Copyright

Thisbookisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentsaretheproductoftheauthor’simaginationandareusedfictitiously.Anyresemblancetoactualevents,orpersons,livingordead,iscoincidental.

Copyright©2015Mattel,Inc.Cover©2015Mattel,Inc.

Allrightsreserved.InaccordancewiththeU.S.CopyrightActof1976,thescanning,uploading,andelectronicsharingofanypartofthisbookwithoutthepermissionofthepublisherisunlawfulpiracyandtheftoftheauthor’sintellectualproperty.Ifyouwouldliketousematerialfromthebook(otherthanforreviewpurposes),

priorwrittenpermissionmustbeobtainedbycontactingthepublisheratpermissions@hbgusa.com.Thankyouforyoursupportoftheauthor’srights.

Little,BrownandCompanyHachetteBookGroup1290AvenueoftheAmericas,NewYork,NY10104lb-kids.com

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Firstebookedition:August2015

ISBN978-0-316-28299-4

E3