Chapter 1

      Issie Brown may have been a long way from Chevalier Point, but from the moment she walked into the stables at Havenfields, she felt like she was home.

      It was the smell that did it. That familiar scent of horse sweat, saddle soap and warm straw. Issie took a deep breath and held it. You could always tell a real horsey girl by her sense of smell, Issie thought to herself. If you totally loved horses then everything to do with them was heavenly—even the smell of horse dung!

      As she cast her gaze down the main corridor of the stables, Issie felt a tingle of anticipation. There were a dozen loose boxes lining both sides of the corridor. Four of them were empty—the straw had been mucked out and they had been left wide open to air. The remaining eight boxes were bolted shut and behind each of those doors was a horse.

      My horse, Issie thought, my horse is inside one of those stalls. But which one? It wouldn’t be long now until she found out. When the rest of the New Zealand Young Rider Squad arrived this morning, choices would be made. Somehow the eight riders would decide which of the horses in this stable would be their new mount for the next two weeks.

      It wasn’t what Issie had been expecting at all. When she first found out that she had made the National Young Rider Squad and would be travelling to Melbourne to compete, she had naturally assumed she would be riding one of her own horses. She had been torn, trying to decide which one she should take—Blaze or Comet. Blaze, her beautiful liver chestnut mare, was back in work and doing fabulous dressage, but Comet was her superstar showjumper. It was impossible to choose between them. It came as a total shock when Chevalier Point’s head instructor, Tom Avery, broke the news to Issie and the other club riders that they wouldn’t be taking any of their horses with them.

      “It’s not fair. Why can’t we take our own ponies?” Stella had griped. “Marmite would love to go to Australia.”

      “Yes, Stella, I’m sure he would love the trip,” said Avery, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “only it turns out that horses can’t fly in economy class like you and me. They need specially built, very expensive crates, in their own cargo hold. A fee of about $10,000 per horse should cover it. If your parents would like to pay that much, then by all means we can take Marmite with us. Otherwise, I suggest you do what the other seven riders in the