An abduction . . .
Miss Katrine Castlereah woke up this morning, thinking it was going to be just another day. However, Katrine was in for the shock of her life. Her parents were out of town for the weekend. Like always, they entrusted her with the responsibility of house sitting. Never in their wildest dreams, would they ever suspect Miss Katrine, their princess, a Catholic raised, schooled, and a well-bred girl--Would ever get herself into trouble. Nor did they ever suspect their daughter would have a personal stalker.
They raised their precious daughter away from the male gender, in an all girl school. Uniforms, and strict rules. Never a short skirt, or too tight clothing. Always uniform, plain and ritual. Nothing really to 'catch' a guy's eye. Sure, they knew the girl held promise in the 'late bloomers' club, but never expected her to need a bra. They just purchased her sports bras, and kept her busy in various school activities, like soccer, rugby, la crosse and English-style horse jumping.
Not even after Katrine started her period, did they consider her more than just a little girl. Always keeping her dressed like one, with ribbons, bows and in ordinary, long dresses. Their wealth went into the school, uniforms, and anything to keep their 'precious' daughter under lock and key, forever.
Katrine would not purposely disappoint her parents, or their methods. Remaining ever docile, and obedient. Her only peace from that world, was reading, or going out for a ride on her gelding, "Thunderous Scalper," named after a native Indian war priest of the late 17th century.
Just like on all weekends, Katrine would prepare her gelding, grooming him for an hour and a half. Braiding his lush, ebony mane and tail, placing intricate roses, or other weaves within the gelding's mane, to make his appearance, quite impressive. Thick and intimidating, the gelding stood seventeen hands, and was built like a runner. A prized jumper, that held a history with Katrine that dated back ten years.
Everything seemed to be running as normal. Katrine had been dressed in a black riding habit, Wellington boots, tan breeches and a helmet, just in case. No one knew where she was going, but the mansion staff, always knew of the girl's rituals. Nothing about Katrine's routine ever went off balance. Everything predictable.
Her typical time, seven a.m., she road out of the stable, down the back paddock, through the fields, and down to the park, about two miles from the subway. Katrine was very unaware of what was lurking, what was predicting her departure, and following her out into the park.
Thunderous Scalper rode as smoothly as ever. Nothing about his movements were jarring, or jerking. Long, lithe legs barely clanked together, as he glided over the park's course. Alone. No cell phone. No knowledge of the evils that lurk in the outside world . . .
Katrine would soon find herself falling with her horse. His screams filling the cool autumn air, and then blackness. That fast, the girl lay unconscious, crushed beneath Thunderous. Her attacker was never seen, not even by the animal that lay dying, bleeding his life's blood over the very ground she laid on. She wouldn't even know of the force used to drag her from under the gelding, and lifted her up like a sac of wheat.
The attacker, a man about six foot nine and rather largely built, would not be seen walking away. No eye witnesses would see his withdrawal into the woods. The early-morning runners would fill the city's air with screams. The horror of the mauled corpse, Katrine's former friend, and only companion in the world. She wouldn't even know, that her attacker covered her body up with a cloak, and somehow manipulated her form, to make it seem like it was apart of his figure--Heading for the subway.
Katrine's fate seemed cloudy.