Brawn's Tale
The wind in the grass whistled. The Eagle soared across the sky overhead, daring the wild mustangs below to race him. He circled three times, calling to any that raised their heads. His cousin the hawk flew to and fro, also calling.
In the small band of mixed-breed wild horses that grazed in the blue mountain valley, there was born from a chestnut mare, a red roan foal with spindly legs and a snip at the end of his very red muzzle. His mother, Comanche, named him Brawn, for though his legs were twigs, the rest of his body was quite stocky.
Like all mustang foals, Brawn was standing the minute his mother nudged him to get up. These lands were wild and as free, as were the animals that lived in their many environments. To be slow to stand was to invite trouble. To invite trouble was to become food. Therefore one must be vigilant, and be alert and able to run at the slightest sign of danger. This was the law of the wild horse; the law of the land.
Brawn didn't seem to care about the law of being safe, as he reared and bucked all over the place, squealing happily as he bugged his blue roan sister, Iris, and bay half brother, Nuka.
Nuka was a yearling, and told the foal in no certain terms that he didn't want to play. Lowering his head, he pinned his ears at the colt - THE warning. When that seemed to have no effect, he swiveled, turning his hindquarters so they faced the troublesome tyke - THE threat. When the bold colt refused to stop, the yearling gave him a swift kick - THE telling. Brawn had learned an important lesson; a lesson of communication and the lesson of the pecking order. These he had to remember if he was to be a good band stallion.
A new lesson he learned was not to try and mimic his father, the magnificent stallion Dawn, named for his shining strawberry chestnut coat. His father led the small band everywhere, but was none too pleased when Brawn snaked some of the young members of the band into a thicket, where all of them got tangled. A bite on the rump later, and no more snaking did Brawn do!
A few days after his birth, the valley was hit by a terrible storm. Mothers drew close to their young ones, and Dawn led them to a wooded area, where they would be safe from lightning. The muscled stallion counted his bandmates, and sighed heavily, stamping a hoof in annoyance. Brawn was missing. Again. But this was more urgent, for the lightning spelled real danger for any horse not in cover. The stallion stretched out his neck and called desperately. Above the rushing wind, his keen ears heard an answering squeal. Then the red roan colt streaked across the flatland, lightning touching down a split second after his hooves left the grass and entered leaves. The lesson here was never stray from the band. A frightened and sweating Brawn learned the importance of this rule.
Had the boisterous colt knew then what was to befall him, he would have paid more attention to all the lessons he was learning.