Snow Foal. Susanna Bailey
id="u35d2a3fe-971e-5d3f-925e-250261ab752a">
For my precious mum, Jean,
who really could paint light
on water.
First published in Great Britain in 2019
by Egmont UK Limited
The Yellow Building, 1 Nicholas Road, London W11 4AN
Text copyright © 2020 Susanna Bailey
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
The moral rights of the author have been asserted
First e-book edition 2019
ISBN 978 1 4052 94935
Ebook ISBN 978 1 4052 94942
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
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CONTENTS
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FIVE
THIRTY-SIX
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
HELP AND SUPPORT FOR CHILDREN AFFECTED BY ANY OF THE ISSUES FEATURED IN THIS BOOK
Everything around him was changed: white, shifting, silent. The wind had form now: it swirled around him, like feathers from the forest floor, hiding the sky. Hiding his mother.
The foal sniffed the ground. That had changed, too. It clung to his muzzle. It stung.
He smelled the air, seeking his mother’s warm, milky scent. He called. Listened. Called again. He thought he heard his mother’s voice lifting