Free Season of Ponies by Zilpha Keatley Snyder

Ponyboy’s footprints or the marks left by Solsken’s hooves. At times the trail narrowed to nothing, and Pamela had to jump to the next tiny island of mud and marsh grass.
    After a long time she looked up to see a startling sight. Looming up straight ahead of her, half hidden in mist, was a house. With small dark windows and high teetering turrets, it had a gloomy forbidding look.
    Moving carefully forward, Pamela reached a large area of firm but slimy earth. She could now see that the house was sitting on a small island in the midst of the swamp. There was no sign of life. The house looked completely deserted, dark and quiet.
    As Pamela approached the house, she noticed that the ground seemed to be full of tiny holes. It felt rough and uneven to her bare feet. She examined it more carefully and then gasped in terror.

The Pig Woman
    D AWN WAS NOT FAR away, and by the pale gray light she was able to make out thousands of footprints deeply pressed into the soggy earth. Waves of fright rushed over Pamela as she realized that the island was entirely covered by the sharp thin footprints of Pigs!
    Too frightened to think, Pamela ran towards the house. She didn’t stop until the heavy door creaked shut behind her. She was in a large room with a few torn and broken pieces of furniture, heavy ragged drapes at the windows, and a damp and musty smell. Ahead was a winding staircase with broken hanging banisters.
    Halfway up the stairs she stopped in midstep. From somewhere in the cold dark house came a sweet familiar sound—Ponyboy’s flute! Sadder and slower now, but still the same secret, singing sound. The sound led up the stairs, down a dim hall, up a narrow stairway to a heavy door. The door was locked, but there was a key in the lock. Pamela turned the huge key with difficulty, and the door swung back.
    Before her eyes could become accustomed to the dim light, she heard Ponyboy’s startled voice.
    “Girl! What are you doing here?”
    And then she saw them. In one end of the room was a large iron cage, and in it sat Ponyboy. Solsken lay beside him with his golden head in Ponyboy’s lap.
    “I came looking for you,” Pamela whispered. “Why are you in that cage?”
    “The Pig Woman,” he said shortly. “She’s turning us into pigs.”
    In horror Pamela stared at them, looking for sharp cloven hooves or snout-like noses.
    “You—you don’t look at all like pigs to me,” she faltered.
    “Oh, we’re not yet. But we soon will be. See that food and water over there? If we eat a bite or take one drink, we’ll become pigs. And if we don’t, we’ll starve. Solsken would have eaten long ago, but I wouldn’t let him.”
    “Oh, Ponyboy, what will we do? There must be something we can do.”
    “Well, it’s easy to see what you’d better do. You’d better get out of here. The Pig Woman’s out in the forest now, but she never stays long. And if she finds you here when she comes back, there’ll be one more pig.”
    Pamela covered her face with both hands in fear and confusion.
    What could she do? She was afraid, but she couldn’t leave Ponyboy. And she kept thinking there was something she could do to help, there was something she should remember.
    “Girl!” Ponyboy shouted, breaking into her daze. Pamela jumped back in fright. “What’s that in your hand?”
    Pamela looked down. She had not even realized that she still clutched the key she had found in the door. And with it were several other keys.
    “Keys,” she stammered. “They were in that door.”
    “Well, don’t just stand there.” Ponyboy’s impatience was almost frightening. “Try them in the padlock. That one looks just like the one that opens this cage.”
    With trembling fingers Pamela slipped the key into the lock, and the rusty padlock squeaked open.
    Instantly Pamela was almost jerked off her feet as Ponyboy grabbed her hand and dashed from the room. Down the stairs they flew so fast that Pamela’s mud-stained white gown and her unbraided