ruin. It was overgrown with vines, though the house next door, which Darby had only glimpsed down its long driveway when they drove by, appeared modern.
The Zink property had been bordered with a barbed wire fence until Darby had become friends with Patrick Zink and let slip Jonahâs poor opinion of barbed wire. Now, expensive white wooden fencing enclosed the neighboring acreage.
Patrick Zink was in the eighth grade with her atLehua High, but she hadnât gotten to know him until she and her mom took a ride to the old sugar plantation.
Darby smiled as she remembered Patrickâs pith helmet. She hadnât known that anyone wore those hats outside of movies, but there heâd been, in real life, exploring the ruins of the old place.
Soon Darby found out he loved books as much as she did, and he had an encyclopedic knowledge of the islandâs history, especially the A-Z Sugar Plantation that had once been run by the Acosta and Zink families.
Darby had only talked with Patrick twice since the ugly accident that had peeled off the top layer of skin on his leg. During their first conversation, Patrick said the doctors had referred to that part of his injury as âdegloving.â Though she didnât consider herself squeamish, Darby thought that was an unsettlingly accurate description.
As she and Hoku neared the driveway to the Zink house, they looked both ways, then crossed the street to walk in the shade of ohia trees, which grew closer together on the Zinksâ side of the street.
Darby was enjoying the red blossoms and salty sea air, when she heard a horse nicker.
Hoku halted suddenly and sniffed, trying to locate the other horse by scent. When that didnât work, Hoku stood soundless, listening for the other horse. When the nicker didnât come again, Hoku snorted, asking the other horse to come out.
And she did.
A beautiful black-and-white paint stretched her nose out from behind a tree at the edge of the Zinksâ driveway. Then, she emerged completely.
Mistwalker was masked by satiny black from muzzle to eye patches. Her flat cheeks, forehead, and neck were white, but she had a long, graceful, black throat and body, and her black mane fell in tendrils.
âThatâs Patrickâs horse,â she told Hoku, âbut whatâs she doing here?â
Just like Honi, Patrickâs paint mare was allowed to roam free, and Darby had mixed feelings about the horsesâ liberty. Although this end of Moku Lio Hihiu wasnât heavily inhabited, the streets had their share of cars.
Darby looked around for Patrick. Even with a walking cast, he probably couldnât go too far from the house, so it was no surprise she didnât see him, but when Darby turned her gaze back to Mistwalker, she realized the mare was acting strange.
The first time she and her mother had encountered the paint, theyâd thought she was a wild horse. Theyâd realized their mistake when Mistwalker came to greet them. Clearly friendly and tame, the mare had nuzzled Navigator and nosed Ellenâs arm, but now the paint mare kept her distance.
Darby clucked softly to the horse, then called, âCome here, girl.â
Mistwalker threw back her forelock, neighed, and pawed the ground.
Hoku answered the mareâs summons by trotting forward.
Riding along the roadside hadnât been one of her best ideas, Darby decided. Hoku ignored the impact of asphalt on her unshod hooves as she followed Mistwalker along the edge of the street.
Mistwalker looked back at Hoku, snorting and urging the filly to come closer, but each time they drew near, Mistwalker moved faster.
What did she want?
Then, Darby saw Patrick.
Sprawled in a folding chair next to a beach umbrella, he sat at the edge of the driveway. His eyes were shut beneath his round black-rimmed glasses. His face was an unnatural shade of pink that made the freckles across his nose and cheeks stand out. His khaki pants were cut short on