Spirit Who Could Be Broken
Chapter One: Wild and Free
I was born belonging to a world of green grass and endless skies, I knew nothing of boundaries, ages or limitations, only the wind, sky and earth below. This is my story of how it was all lost to me and what I found in return.
My father was a grand dun stallion, full sized and strong, my mother was a small bay mare whose eyes always shone bright with health and had never been the least bit hindered by the several foals she'd brought into the world since she was two.
Our herd was unusually large so we had to move frequently across the large, grassy range, not so much due to any shortage of food but just because anything edible was quickly trampled underfoot and why eat that when there were fresh pickings just out of reach.
It was, as far as starts to life go, an uneventful one. I never had trouble keeping up with the herd and spent my days, content to explore and gallop with my half-brothers and sisters, at night I never felt afraid or cold as I huddled behind my mother in the middle of the throng of horses. I couldn't have imagined a better life, but then nor could I, a worse one, I knew of nothing beyond the boundless sky and sea of sweet grasses. I would follow the eagles flying high but I always felt just as free as them, for what could possible await me in the sky, that I didn't have already on the ground.
That was my life, up until I had lived through each season twice, until the day came for my first lesson in the cruelty of life. There was a strange scent in the air that day, the mares were starting to work themselves up and the dun stallion was tense and overbearing as he moved through the herd. He would keep one ear constantly pricked and focused on the edge of the band, least an unwanted newcomer show their face. As it was, my mother was one of the first mares to start prancing around, reacting to the fresh scent of the change in season on the breeze. At this time of year, she wanted nothing to do with her youngest foal and I – who she had long since stopped protecting, could not even approach with a friendly sniff without a sharp squeal and lash of heels in response.
So I coaxed my younger brother away to graze and the distraction soothed his frantic efforts to be by her side. We nibbled the sweet grass of its tips and when the fancy took my brother, he came up to me and started raking his teeth through my mane and alongside my wither, naturally I started to return the favour when we were disturbed by an uproar between the great dun stallion and a half-brother of mine. I watched with disbelief as the black colt tried to turn back, licking and chewing in desperation several times before giving in and galloping from the only home he'd ever known. I trembled with the knowledge that this same fate awaited me and shifted to the edge of the herd in an attempt to avoid my father's notice. My brother chose to stick by me, and I appreciated his company and the feeling of safety having an extra pair of eyes close by brought.
If my caution brought me a few extra days or if it was set out to be from the start, I do not know, but when my father came, he descended on me with as much fury as he had attacked my half-brother with. It was plain to me, my time in my birth herd was up. As the dun stallion snaked towards me, my heart desperately pleaded its wish to stay and against my better judgement, I rose up against the larger, older, more experienced stallion. I realized my mistake instantly as our hooves thrashed the air, and threat turned to attack. I tried to back away, to show submission, if I was no threat, surely I could stay, but my father would stop at nothing to defend his herd, and I had grown old enough to be nothing but a threat. It was futile, I turned on my hindquarters, planning to kick out in last protest before I fled, but my father was faster and while my hooves skimmed only air, his teeth dug into my rump. I squealed and darted away, wanted nothing more to do with the confrontation, least I be hurt worse, the wound stung, but the pain would soon fade. My younger brother's whinny was carried to me by the wind but I did not pause to reply, he still had time to grow up in the comfort of the large herd, I would not take this from him.
My first night out alone was terrible, I had never felt so vulnerable. The shadows stretched out threateningly, the winds whistled and the branches bowed and lashed themselves back and forth, hiding any sound and movement from predators. I was too scared to rest least a cougar leap from above or a wolf pack stalk up unseen, so I kept moving, pausing only to whinny and listen for replies. When the fear wasn't eating away at me, the loneliness was, I was driven by the sole need to find myself a herd.
And find another herd I did, but every one I approached, I found the mares in an excited frisk and the stallions in a protective frenzy, I was lucky if I could tag along for more than a few days before the stallions would turn on me. Depending on my desperation I would try and meet their challenge but the end result was always the same, the only variation were the wounds I escaped with. As I traveled I found smaller herds but angrier stallions, away from the relations in my birth herd, I was even more of a threat and fewer and fewer stallions would tolerate my presence. I realized if I were to ever end the loneliness, I must steal away a mare for myself, I only needed one.
My first attempt to steal a mare was with a rich bay dun filly, she was curious and friendly and strode forward to greet me when I appeared before her. I didn't just need her, I wanted her, her scent alone excited me and an aggressiveness I was unfamiliar with over took me as I sprang forwards with teeth bared to drive her from her herd. The filly jumped away in a flash and galloped off and I spun around quickly after her, all I had to do was prevent her from turning back to the herd and she would be mine. The filly did not share my excitement for her, and lashed out when I got too close, spinning to get back to her herd, I tried to stop her but could not risk hurting her so found myself forced to drop back and watch her zip back towards her small band.
I tried to follow for another attempt but she was just too fast and suddenly, the lead stallion was bearing down on me. Even as I turned to gallop away, he would not quit the chase, so great was his hanging. He nipped at my side, teeth cutting into flank. I skidded to a stop, tried to throw him off my tail by spinning and kicking, but his heels were faster, thudding against my shoulder and chest. I backed off hurriedly and whinnied desperately to the bay dun filly, she responded pleasantly enough but her intentions were clear, she wanted to stay with her own family and I had no choice but to return to loneliness until my wounds healed.