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FORBIDDEN PLACE 11

KAREN AND ARMINA cantered across the wide stretch of land joining the cliff tops. The wind was fresh, blowing from the sea, which rolled in remorselessly, pounding and crashing on the rocks far below. Huge clouds threw swiftly moving shadows over the mighty expanse of green water. Patches of sunlight broke through to cast a radiance on the curling white breakers.

It was Saturday, and Karen had escaped the stuffy library, accepting Armina’s invitation to ride. She had brought equestrian kit with her, and Tayte Penwarden had fixed her up with a lively mare. Now she turned in the saddle and shouted to Armina, ‘I'll race you.’

Armina grinned, leaning over to slap her impatient mount’s finely arched neck gently. ‘All right. Where’s the finishing line?’

Karen pointed to a clump of stunted trees. ‘Over there!’ Her mare fidgeted restlessly, sensing a gallop.

They shot off, two speeding arrows, one piebald, the other grey. Karen loved being in the saddle again. She had ridden since she was
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