FULL MOON FANCY. THE NAME sounded magical. Willa let the words swirl in her head. She couldn’t believe there was a new pony at Miller Farm.
“Just Fancy for short,” Grandma Edna insisted. “No need for long, frilly names around here.” When Grandma said “here,” she meant the animal rescue center she ran. It was home to
goats, chickens, rabbits, and especially ponies—Chincoteague ponies.
Ben and Willa hurried over to the small paddock to meet Fancy. “Where is she?” Ben wondered, glancing at his big sister. Willa searched the field.
“The small pasture’s empty, Grandma,” Willa called across the yard.
Grandma looked up. Her scowl pushed her eyebrows low. She stood up from her rosebushes. “Now don’t tell me,” she murmured. Grandma made her way over to where Willa and Ben stood. “Sure enough,” she announced, examining the area. “We’ve got a pony to find. You two look on the other side of the house. I’ll check behind the barn.”