Carry has been nine years old when her beloved twin sister has died within only a few months because of blood cancer. After that horrible day, when she had helplessly witnessed how the last life spark went out of Anny, and her delicate facial features did seem to freeze and turned pale, life has changed. Nothing could cheer Carry up, even three years of intensive psychological therapy didn‘t help. Day after day she spent motionless sitting or laying on her bed staring at the ceiling of her friendly and bright room. It seemed to her parents that her daughter had become a prisoner, captured in a gloomy, bitterly cold, iron cage, filled with agony and deep despair, without any courage, will and power to get free…

One day her father went in and tried to show her the photograph of a daintily built young mare with a coat that was shining like a fresh pressed copper coin.

„Just take a short look, Carry. This is Bay Lady, three years old, friendly, lovely and calm. I bought it for you. You remember, you always did want a horse of your own.“

With an annoyed sigh the girl pushed the picture to the floor and turned away her pale face.

The days went by. One very early morning a strange sound came to Carries ears. It was a loud neigh, no, rather a fanfare, bursting with joy of life and high spirits. Unconsciously Carry crawled out of her bed and went to the window. The Bay Lady ran caprioling over the green paddock in front of the farmhouse. For the first time since Annie‘s dead Carry did feel her heart beat, a strange yearning. She got dressed and left the house, for the first time after three years.

Full of curiosity, with pointed ears and flaring nostrils the little mare trotted towards her. The large dark amber eyes where gently glowing. With a quiet snorting Bay Ladies‘ velvety nose touched Carries‘ pale cheek. Still unconsciously the girl took a bridle that was hanging on a fence post and slipped it over the mare‘s head. She opened the fence gate and swung on the back of the playfully prancing horse.

In the east of the farm there where two large canola fields, touched by late springs‘ morning wind, brimming over with millions of little yellow blossoms, separated by a broad lane. Carry stimulated her horse with her voice, hands and heels. Triumphantly neighing Bay Lady fell into gallop, faster, and faster, and faster. Her filigree legs seemed hardly touching the ground, Carry felt the muscles moving under the groomed, copper red shimmering coat. Horse and girl flew directly into the huge orange ball of the sun, that rose over the far top of a little hill.

At the end of the lane the girl stopped the mare, leaned forward and flung her arms around the warm neck. „Oh, you lovely one! Thank you!“, she whispered, bursting into tears, sobbing violently, „Thank you so much!“ For a long, long time she sat crying, and every hot tear paved the way out of her souls‘ dark prison…

… Carry entered the farmhouse kitchen through the backdoor, her parents seemed to be petrified with shock and surprise. The shadow of a smile slid over the girls face. „Good morning! Would you please make me some pancakes, Mum?“…