Chapter 7: In Which I Face…The Dog
The new Fenced-in area was larger than I though it was. As it turned out, the end that I saw was false; really it just curved in an odd way and continued, disappearing over a hill. I stared out at it for a moment, thinking of how much it reminded me of my father's territory, the place that used to be my home. I told myself it wasn't my father's domain. It was mine. Everything I saw belonged to me. Or it would…someday. I just had to find someone to overthrow. Which I would. Eventually.
Then it hit me: where the heck was everyone else?
I whinnied loudly, launching myself onto my back hooves so I could get a better view. Nothing. I was alone.
Now horses, we're pack animals. We don't do so good alone, especially me, born and raised in my father's whopping great herd, where you couldn't get a moment to yourself even if you wanted it.
I panicked and bolted down the hill, neighing as loud as I could, throwing down my hooves as hard as possible, making as much noise as I was capable of, so even the dead couldn't miss me.
I pounded up and down a small hill, going back and forth in an awkward zigzag, and then up a bigger hill. I stopped under a big tree with widespread branches and looked out over the valley below, breathing hard. This was not turning out to be a very good day.
I frantically scanned the wide-open spaces – This was turning out to be a very bad day.
There! Something moved!
The something burst out from behind a cluster of trees in the valley below me, a black and white blob of energy. I was so relieved to see something living that I didn't notice what it was until it was halfway up the hill, and then –
"DOG!" I screamed. I jerked around and bolted, the fuzzy black and white enemy barking at me from the rear. I launched myself down the hill and around the tree, then turned a sharp right, made a U-turn, and flipped back around, trying to confuse the bundle of death that was hot on my heels. Nothing worked. It was still behind me, barking wavelengths of doom at my hooves.
I bucked, trying to keep it away, and it feel back, but didn't give up. I bucked again, and again, and still it came, white teeth gnashing at my heels. I turned left and shot up a hill. The dog followed.
HERD! My head was screaming. SAFEETY!
I threw myself over the hill and then over another one, and then I saw, in the distance, a group of flicking tails and swivelling ears. I charged for them, kicking out at the dog, who barked in happy pursuit, probably anticipating sinking its horrid jaws in my soft, supple flesh.
I whinnied loudly at the herd – mares, several foals, including the little filly from yesterday. The filly lifted her head and whinnied back, then came charging towards me.
"No!" I shouted at her. "Go back! Go back!"
Either she didn't listen, or she didn't care, she just kept on coming. And then she did something quite unexpected – she launched herself at the dog, and both fell in a crumpled heap.
"NO!" I yelled dramatically as I watched them tumble down the hill.
I skidded down after them, digging my hooves into the dirt at the bottom to stop. Neither dog nor filly had moved. Two hundred yards away, the heard grazed on, oblivious of the tragedy unfolding so close by.
I nudged the filly gently, holding my breath, fearing the worst. What would I tell her mother? She had died a hero? What would that do to comfort a two thousand pound grieving mare?
The dog yawned and stood up, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, the picture of cruelty and fear.
I reared up and slammed my hooves hard on the ground in front of it. The dog whimpered, tucking its savage tail between its deadly legs, and stalked off, in search of other prey. It lost interest as soon as the subject of its torture passed on.
"Why'd you do that?" the filly asked, jumping to her feet.
"You're alive!" I yelled, prancing backward in shock. "How?! It must've – "
The filly looked at me in confusion. "No one ever died rolling down a hill, silly," she said with a swish of her short, black tail.
"Not the hill," I exclaimed, "the savage dog!"
"Savage?" she asked, cocking her head. "No one's ever called Soot savage before."
"Soot?" I asked.
"The…savage dog," she said. "The master lets him run loose because he's a house dog. He wasn't good enough to be a sheep dog; he didn't bite the sheep when they ran away, just tried to persuade them to go back to the herd. Sheepdog-fail."
My turn to be confused. "Huh?" I asked articulately.
"He's really sweet. He's the only one who plays with me. The others won't cuz I'm a girl." She stuck her tongue out in the herd's general direction.
"Wha…?"
"He wouldn't hurt a fly," she said encouragingly.
"But he chased me! And snapped at my heels!" I protested, prancing back in a lame display of our epic chase.
"He's just playing," she said, giggling. "His favourite games are tag and tug-of-war, though he's not very good at either. I let him win sometimes, though."
I stared at her blankly, then tried one more time to impose upon her what had been imposed upon me in my foalhood: "But dogs are evil."
She shook her head, making her short main undulate in a comical way. "Who told you that, silly?" she asked.
"Let's see…dad, mom, grandmother, uncles, aunts, take your pick."
"That's wild!" she said (which is apparently human-owning-horse for something "crazy", "untrue", "ridiculous" or the like). "All the dogs here are nice. I've never met a mean one, much less an evil one. You must be wild!"
"Yeah," I said, laughing nervously, "well, I was only joking. I know dogs are cool. My best friend was a dog when I was a foal, a white one…with brown spots…only better."
She laughed. "You had me fooled!" she said, and started prancing off in the direction of the small herd. She looked back over at me. "You coming or what?"
A very bad day indeed.
