Chapter 25

Clash Of The Stallions

"You ain't gonna take me down, no way"

Rain stood, her eyes never leaving the figure of the beautiful, young horse that had at last shown himself to her. She did not know what to make of him... Would he allow her to escape and continue her search for Little Creek and the Lakota Village? She remained quite still, undecided on what to do and feeling incredibly wary. Last thing she needed was any distractions.

He nickered with a soft, attractive kind of call, again subtly and politely, inviting her to come out of hiding and go with him. But Rain pretended as though she had not heard him and did not even acknowledge his presence. The handsome lone stallion looked rather disappointed. Then, after a few soft neighs, he decided to near her. He moved forward half-confidently, half-shyly, towards the thick leaves and branches were she was hidden. Rain's heart almost jumped out of her chest at that, she pressed backwards, managed to turn and force her way through the next clump into less thick timber. Then she turned swiftly towards east again, and kept going.

The young lone horse followed.

What would happen when they came to open country? But how did she know so certainly that they must come to a great, rolling hills and plains? She was still a stranger to the untamed lands of the west. Yet Rain's anxiety seemed to double when she started thinking about how to get away from the blood-bay stallion. He was relentlessly trailing after her. His eyes were warm and kind...perhaps he would not try to hold her against her will...she knew that he had saved her once, it was without doubt him, that unknown stranger. But Rain also felt sure he wanted her for his herd and that was not an option for her. She must find her homeland, she must get away from all this.

Presently she heard another soft neigh, asking her to stop and go with him. She began to canter, where the ground allowed it. The young loner cantered after her too. The glades in the valleys were becoming more open, the valley floors were wider. The whole character of the country was changing as they both quickened their pace. They would soon be out of those high, wide plains. The valleys became wider and wider: the trees got less. Now Rain was cantering in the open. A horse when alone feels the touch of the wind so much. The wind's touch may be a challenge, offering a race, it may be life and the whole tempestuous fury and glory of life for a stallion and his mares, or for young animals just leaving the herd, but for one alone, the wind's touch is the touch of fear.

Rain had been very afraid, but while she kept moving the fear had not eaten into her like a day before. Now there was this fear seeming to unfold her, coming on the air of the wide spaces, the air that moved over rolling grey-green hills, moved up open, treeless valleys where the water glinted cold...fear on the cool wind.

Bolder followed relentlessly, partly feeling guilty for spooking the young mare with his forwardness and partly excited that he was so close to getting her. Just then, from behind and not very far off, came another stallion's loud neigh. Rain heard the hoofbeat of the young loner behind her check and stop, as he listened. She guessed that he would stand for a moment, looking around, and she would have time to hide in the last of the trees.

The second stallion called again. She could not recognize his voice, it was definitely not Spirit's. But while Rain had a hard time identifying the stranger, Bolder knew exactly who had come upon them and a sweat formed on to his forehead. It was his uncle! Azogar! But even when his heart was racing fast at this new arrival, his mind was still occupied with the thought of the lovely paint. He looked round for her and, unable to see her, seemed to forget everything but the necessity of finding her. He searched around for her tracks and began to follow them. Just then the silver grulla came into sight.

Rain watched the young blood-bay, who had heard the other horse and had swung round to face him. She couldn't help but feel flutter of hope that the nice-looking loner - her guardian horse - would win, and she crept away, while neither of them were looking, and trotted on.

"Why am I seeing you everywhere I go?" Azogar spat angrily when he met the eyes of his nephew. "What are you doing, chasing my mare?" He was already ticked off and shamed in defeat by Spirit, but he had noticed the pretty mare wandering alone, on his way back home, and became determined to get her. After all, that little paint was the very reason he had challenged Spirit in the first place. But what he did not expect, was to meet his overbearing nephew yet again.

Bolder had been incredibly patient and understanding with Azogar throughout their encounters, however, now his uncle had gone far enough. There was no way he was going to let him have the beautiful paint. Not now...not ever.

"I'm sorry uncle, but you are not getting her." Bolder stated meaningfully, arching his neck and pawing the ground in hostility.

"I beg your pardon?" Azogar narrowed his eyes.

"You heard me."

"That paint is mine!" Azogar snapped, gnashing his teeth at him. "I thought I had made myself clear!"

"Well, I reckon, you'll have to fight me." Bolder answered proudly and confidently.

And a sudden chill ran down Azogar's spine... he had just been defeated quite miserably... Putting up another fight, especially with his nephew, seemed so exhausting and unnecessary. And besides, it seemed like Bolder had been using him all this time in order to win the flaxen beauty for himself. The nerve of him!

"You betraying, little liar!" He screamed in rage, when he began to realize that his nephew was no longer on his side, but rather against him.

As the two stallions were few seconds away from a fierce clash, Rain was trying to escape from their sights. Presently, she heard the sound of fighting behind her, but all her hair was standing on end already, and with the aloneness of the wild, untamed country, for she had passed through the last of the trees and now there was nowhere to hide at all. If it had not been that she longed so deeply to find her homeland, she could never have forced herself over the open plains where the wind cried of dangers and sorrow, and she was just one filly, utterly alone, seeking her human who had been the only comfort of her existence, ever since she were a mere foal.

She still had no clear picture of where she was going, just that certainty and instinct that she was trotting towards the country from which she had come, and that she must find the Lakota village if she were ever to reunite with Little Creek. But then the thought of Spirit, standing against the sun, his mane and forelock on fire with light, seemed to call her back and away from that cold, open country she was cantering towards.

Then, beyond the sound of her own hoofbeats, it seemed to her that she heard another beat. Her heart lurched within her chest. She cast a wild look over her shoulder. A beautiful silver grullo stallion that she was sure she had seen once in Cimarron, hiding in the bushes, was now galloping fast after her. This was probably the horse Spirit had thought had saved her. At that time, she had been thinking of it too...but no, her rescuer was certainly the young blood-bay, who was now behind the grullo horse.

Oh great!

They were both chasing her, determined to snake her back to their herds. Rain exhilarated her pace and began to race desperately. Unending miles of open country seemed to stretch ahead of her, but to the north there might be cover. She swung that way and the horses followed. Rain was surprised to find that the grullo was not gaining on her, even when she felt so tired and a lot heavier than usual. She knew she was capable of running faster than this...but she simply could not. Another glance behind told her that the blood-bay was catching up to the silvery horse. They would soon fight again, and while they were fighting she would be able to get her breath, perhaps get right away.

She heard a furious scream. The silver grullo horse was refusing to stop to fight properly and the blood-bay was trying to force him. Then suddenly, the young lone stallion darted ahead of the grullo and after Rain. This time, Rain did not hurry or stress about quickening her pace. It might be better if they both almost caught up with her. In that case, the silver grullo would have to stop and fight...She on the other hand, needed to get away and find Little Creek...Little Creek, her human, her guardian, her best friend...Little Creek.

Both stallions were getting closer. The young blood-bay was coming up on one side of her, the silver grullo on the other. Perhaps they were not going to stop and fight as she had originally hoped. That silver horse had no desire to stand and fight...what a coward! Rain felt desperate and very angry. She dug in her toes and, with a few proppy strides, managed to stop unexpectedly. The stallions almost crashed into each other. Surely they must fight now, and she could get away. But they only watched her.

She began to move on, and they moved on with her - north instead of east - and Rain saw no way of escaping.

For the first time since leaving the herd of Cimarron, she began to hope and wish for her beloved Spirit to come and save her from the two stallions.

The herd of Cimarron was again in disarray. The colts and fillies were moving about skittishly, the mares were stressed, every herd member felt anxiety and tension in that moment... One could not blame them. Any herd without a lead stallion is prone to vulnerability, to attracting predators and bachelor stallions. It was natural that they were all worried for their future, after all, their leader was leaving them. And the last time Spirit had left them, he got himself in such a pickle that the whole herd had lost all hope of ever seeing him again, except for the faithful Esperanza.

"Spirit, you can't abandon us!" Misty squealed as she desperately followed after the determined stallion.

Spirit ignored her, he was too busy thinking about Rain, on how to find her, to pay any heed to her words. Esperanza watched her upset son pace this way and that, noticed that everyone else was also anxious due to Spirit's inner turmoil. He looked so shattered, anguished, heartbroken and conflicted. She hated seeing him that way.

"Spirit," She began softly. "Perhaps, it's for the best if you let her go?"

"I cannot do that." He answered almost instantly, emotional pain evident in his voice. "This is all my fault. I have to find her." Spirit finished as the final determination set in him, his eyes focused on the far-off, distanced mountains. He was going to win Rain back, one way or another, but he also felt incredibly conflicted on leaving his herd behind. Especially at such a risky time of the year.

"But my son, she chose to leave... you cannot force her to remain with you if she does not wish it." Esperanza continued to implore, hoping to put him off somehow.

"No, I have to find her." Spirit shook his head, refusing to reason with his mother. "She's all alone, what if something bad happens to her?"

"Don't let your heart rule over your mind, Spirit." Willow joined in calmly. "Rain's old enough to make her own decisions. And she's smart, she'll find her way back home."

"But this is her home!" Spirit burst, unable to hold himself together. "The only reason she left is because of that stupid..." He groaned, stopping himself mid-sentence, frustrated, and continued to pace back and forth, in anger and misery. "I have to see her again."

"She won't be in danger, I'm sure of it." Added Goonda with a soft nicker. "Leaving the entire band for one mare, who wishes to not be with you, sounds incredibly reckless and foolish to me."

"Goonda's right," Eagerly agreed Misty. "Rain does not deserve so much attention. She abandoned you without even bothering to leave a word. Why would you even want her?" The black mare spat, utterly vexed that Spirit was still insisting on finding Rain, even when Misty's plan had worked so well and the paint had finally left the herd on her own accord.

"Because I love her, despite everything that happened!" Spirit exclaimed as he snapped at Misty for the first time, in a while. "And because I sense your doing in this." He added suspiciously.

Misty threw daggers with her eyes but nevertheless, cowered in fear at the stallion's strong aura. Spirit turned back to his mother and the rest of the herd.

"I'm going to find her, if that's the last thing I do."

"What will happen to us?" Scarlet nickered meekly, her expressions were filled with fright and dread.

"We'll be fine." Esperanza assured with a calm tone and fixed her gaze on the desperate young stallion, knowing full well that once he had his mind set on something, there wasn't anything or anyone that could make him change it. She had learned to accept her son's headstrong nature a long time ago. "How long will you be gone?" She asked with a small sigh.

"It's hard to say" Spirit said honestly. He did not know the exact timeline, but he knew that it wouldn't be an easy job to find Rain or to convince her to return back with him, especially after everything that occurred between them. "Rain can be very stubborn and impulsive, it might take me a while to get back in her good graces."

"Well, at least you two have some things in common." Esperanza remarked with a small smirk.

"Lead the herd to the small canyon in the high mountains, the one you spent the night in, while I went searching for Rain that stormy night." Spirit instructed his mother thoughtfully. "You'll all be safe there, I'm sure of it. No one will disturb you. And there are plenty of fresh grass to eat as well. I'll be back before you know it, I promise."

With that, he gently extended his nose to Esperanza and nuzzled her sweetly. "Be safe." she murmured quietly.

And then, Spirit was off, while Esperanza started to move out the band where the lead stallion had directed them to go.

The daughter of Raven had observed the entire exchange from the cover of the tall trees up the hill. She was immensely pleased when Azogar had been defeated and then driven away from the territory in shame. The happiness at the prospect of never having to deal with that arrogant, foolish stallion again, filled her heart with joy. And most importantly, she had finally found the handsome Spirit, the one she longed to run with for almost a year now. It was too good to be true. She also felt very fortunate to have made acquaintances with Bolder, who was the one who made all this possible. She would forever remain in his debt. Nova was planning on going down to introduce herself to the herd and Spirit, when she began to notice how disoriented everyone was. The magnificent son of Strider was clearly disturbed and upset by something, she could tell it, even from her hiding place. She saw how he paced back and forth, how he inspected his herd as if trying to find someone there, but was unable to. Then the older palomino mare came to calm him down, the way she nuzzled him and followed him around, made Nova suspect that she was his dam. She also saw a younger black mare, squealing some exclamation at Spirit rather rudely and he had snapped at her angrily. It was so obvious that something unpleasant had transpired. If only she knew what was happening. No one had sensed her presence, they were all too distracted with other things.

Where had Bolder run off to? Where was that newcomer mare, he so desperately wanted to find?

Nova froze, unsure if she should remain in the cover of the trees or come out and finally join the herd, she so deeply wanted to belong to. At last, after couple of minutes, she set her mind on going down there and introducing herself. But to her utter despair, she saw how the handsome Spirit swung round and galloped away, the same direction where Bolder had disappeared, while the herd was led away by the palomino to the opposite side. Just when she had finally found the stallion of her dreams, she was losing him again. Desperately, she broke into a fast canter and followed after the son of Strider, who had already faded into the evening mist.

There was only one thing occupying Spirit's mind, and that was: Rain. He felt extremely desolated, his heart was anguished, and the pain of never seeing her again was torturous. He was mad at everyone and everything. He felt incredibly furious with himself, with foolish Azogar, with that stranger, who had momentarily forced himself into his herd, with Misty, with Esperanza, with Willow, and mostly with Rain. How could she abandon him like that? Without even telling him a word, she vanished like a phantom. Didn't he deserve some sort of explanation from her? Then he remembered that he had been the one that broke her trust first...Rain no longer owed him anything. He, himself, had brought all these miseries on his head. That only escalated his suffering and he began to feel physically sick. He was responsible for all this conflict...he, alone. Nevertheless, Spirit followed after Rain's tracks, knowing for certain that she was headed back to the humans, towards her birthplace. Nothing was lost yet. He could still try to win her heart...one thing he never did was give up.

He would go along the high plateau and follow the river valleys down to the meadows, explore all the western side of the blue mountains, all the east, south, north, every nook and cranny of his untamed lands. However long it took him, however far he had to go, he would seek Rain till he found her, and always, as he climbed the cliff and went along the high plateau, it was as though Rain were ahead, a white and chestnut painted ghost, so strongly did she fill his mind. He went quite fast, and as he went the remaining pain in his heart did not ease away. The night was warm. The scent of blooming flowers filled the air. No smell of horses was on the whole long ridge. Rain's tracks were no longer visible and he began to realize that she had taken a different path to one he was taking. This was good, for he knew shortcuts that would lead him to his beloved a lot quicker.

Spirit walked with pride as would a handsome stallion in his prime, for he felt strong again, and he had made up his mind to stop focusing on the negative, no matter how hard it was. To be alive in the soft late spring darkness was high magnificence. He also held himself in readiness for anything that might come out of the dark net of night. As the ridge began to drop down to the river there was the fragrance of wild flowers of the open fields. He heard his Eagle companion wish him luck from the limitless sky on his journey, saw a doe skip through the bush as though she knew that the most heroic stallion in all the western lands was going past in the thrilling night. Soundless, Spirit moved on and on through the bush.

Even though, Nova could not see Spirit, for he was far ahead of her, she diligently studied his tracks and followed after him. She climbed up onto the ridge and kept going, trying to catch up with him. If it had not been for a faint south wind starting up then, Nova would have turned up on to the high plateau, but on that south wind there came...something. Nova stopped. Her nose trembled. She lifted her head to the breeze and drew it in, and a tingling went through her, right to her hooves and through every hair. Then she turned into the breeze - walked into it as though it held her - and the breeze that lifted her silvery mane and forelock carried the scent of Spirit. The dark mare kept on walking, head up to the wind, never losing that scent, even when the ridge dropped down in among the flowering lightwoods. She simply followed the scent as though she were led on an invisible string by the horse ahead, over on to the banks of the river, along and along the track. Sometime he would stop to graze, then she would find him.

There was no sound of hoofbeat ahead, but Nova, of course, was not soundless. She could have been heard by any horse who was close enough, but not by Spirit, because the wind bore the sounds away. The darkness before dawn grew heavier, then there seemed to be a faint movement through it. Nova felt, almost more than saw, a shiver of golden - and still there was the scent, drawing and drawing her. Faint blue illumined the dark. The trees were thinning and the scent grew stronger. Could it be that she was finally catching up with him? Nova slackened her pace. Spirit might have stopped. She felt less sure of herself. She walked more quietly. As she came to the edge of the trees, she paused. Ahead were rocks, heaped up rocks and flat rocks looming through the strange half-darkness, and below them seemed to be empty space, probably a grassy glade, perhaps a small creek. Just as she made out the shape of Spirit between two great rocks, she heard a sound behind her and knew that she, too, was being followed.

"Azogar!" she thought, and stepped swiftly to one side, amongst thick trees. Would he ever give up pursuing her?

There was the scent of Spirit still, strong on the breeze, drawing her, and through the thick leaves she could still see him, shadowy and insubstantial because there was no light. Then something hurtled past her along the track, sprang on to the rocks, and then swiftly sprang on to Spirit.

Nova gave a little cry and then stood silent. Spirit had leapt forward so that the other horse only crashed down on to his rump. In the resulting mix up of two stallions, and in the blue, shadowy light, Nova could only just make out that the attacker was not smokey grullo, definitely not Azogar.

Spirit's quick leap had saved him, but it had also put him in a difficult position for dealing with the other horse. He reared up and swung round in one move. The other horse was already coming in to attack. Nova had time to see that he was no horse that she had ever seen before, then there was an interlocked, moving mass of stallions as Spirit leaped upwards on his hindlegs and brought his forelegs smashing down on the advancing head and shoulders.

The horse roared with anger and tried to force him backwards over an edge of the rocks. Nova could hardly stop herself neighing a warning, but Spirit must have felt the air behind him and known that there was space. He stood firm. There was no room to jump to either side, so Spirit had to force himself against the terrific impact. The horse recoiled. Nova drew in her breath as she saw Spirit sway and then gather himself together enough to jump away from the edge.

In the bluish light, everything looked queerly fluid. The attacking horse seemed darkish blue, the rocks were all caverns and hollows. Spirit faded into the atmosphere. The horse was leaping forward again, it twisted in the air, its teeth bared.

This was surely a very heavily-built and muscular horse, almost stronger than the nimble Spirit, and it had the advantage of knowing the rocks in which they were fighting. Nova was frighted, extremely frightened. Then she saw Spirit leap on to a flat - topped rock above his opponent, obviously playing for time so that he could see the country over which he had to fight. She saw the other horse spring on to an opposite rock and fly across at Spirit, clearly knowing the distance between rock and rock so well that the strange quality of the ending night and the unstarted day did not make him falter.

Spirit had vanished. For a moment he was invisible in the strange light into which he had blended, but Nova saw him again, balanced on a sharp rock. She looked closely at the other horse. Why had he attacked Spirit? Who was he? She remembered the story her dam used to tell her about an abusive stallion, who disrespected and hurt mares, while killing his every stallion opponent ruthlessly. Her noble father, Raven, had dubbed him a killer, everyone else called him the blue roan beast. This could be close to the killer roan's country. Perhaps this horse was the killer. She began to sweat with fear, not fear for herself, but for Spirit, who now, fighting, was even more unforgettable than before.

The two stallions were back on the flat rock now, locked together. They freed themselves, they were dodging each other's blows, they were leaping from rock to rock again. The blue light shimmered over them. Spirit seemed to be disembodied light itself, taking shape and then vanishing, becoming solid as he jumped or struck, then melting into the moving blue again. They were both so swift that neither succeeded in sinking his teeth into the other, or in striking more than glancing blows as the other dodged. Nova could tell that the savage beast was determined to kill the son of Strider.

Spirit stood quite still for a few seconds and merged so with the atmosphere and the rocks that "the blue killer", if it were really he, made a mistake, and came in too much to one side. Then Spirit, momentarily possessing the form of a horse in the blueness, gave him a tremendous blow on the head.

Nova watched Spirit streak forward to follow up his advantage with yet another crashing blow, but the other horse seemed less shaken by the hit on the head than one could have expected, and, as Spirit came through the blue air, he dodged out of the way and then back to attack.

There they were, dodging, leaping, rearing - a whirl of horse, and nothing taking substantial form in that moment before it was light. Then light came sliding over the sky, and there were two distinct horses fighting a strange fight that rarely brought them close enough to touch each other. Spirit's enemy was a blue colored horse. Nova was trembling. Yes, this must be that abusive savage, and he did indeed look like a killer.

Spirit seemed lighter, she thought. He might be swifter too, but in agility they were completely even. Just then Spirit must have decided that these rocks, in which the blue roan obviously knew every foothold, every crack, were no place to fight, because he took a wild leap through the gold-glittering air and landed on a little grassy flat below the rocks. Rocks and trees enclosed this flat, but on the grass his opponent would have no advantage.

There Spirit waited for his attacker, his brave, yet gentle head thrown up, his jet-black mane glistening. The blue roan sprang after him, and they danced round and round each other. While they fought on and on, neither doing much damage to the other, Nova moved down through the trees so that she could see them better. Why was this horse so maddened with fury and so filled with rage? Had Spirit offended him in some way? She could not understand it. Was there a history between them? This horse was not arrogantly boasting like Azogar and wasting his breath...he simply silently attacked in determination to kill Spirit. That made him an extremely dangerous opponent.

"They will fight till they are exhausted and then fight again," she thought, but what would happen in the end? A horse was never given a name for being an abuser and a killer for nothing. She wondered if Spirit were anxious, then she saw that he was enjoying the soft grass underfoot: She watched him do several light springs.

The blue roan came dancing in to strike him. Spirit stood his ground, then dodged at the last minute, got in a good kick at the attacker's shoulder, and was out of reach again in a flash. Then Nova knew that Spirit had determined to attack, but that even the bulky roan could not guess how, or where. Spirit darted here, there, everywhere. He circled fast around the other horse. Then he was coming in on the blue roan's forequarter, but like a snake, from side to side, and fast, so fast. His teeth had grabbed. They missed the hold for which he had aimed - on the wither - but they sank into the abuser's neck. For a few minutes the two horses were locked together, dancing and swaying in the sunlight. Nova saw Spirit getting himself ready for a mighty heave - Spirit must have felt it. Before he could be thrown off Spirit let go his grip, twisted on his haunches, and struck again at the blue roan's head. Once more they were dancing around and around each other. Spirit looked as though he were enjoying himself and also as though he could go on for hours.

They did go on and on. Nova crept off to get a drink in the middle of the morning, for she had become extremely thirsty with all the anxiety, and her throat was all dried up. When she came back, the little, churned-up grassy flat was empty, and her heart gave a jolt inside her. Had she lost Spirit again, when, in a way, she had barely found him? But no! The two stallions had backed to the trees, one on each side of the grassy flat, and were regaining breath and strength. They were each bloodstained in places, but neither of them were much hurt. Perhaps they might go on fighting so long that the blue roan, might find himself exhausted before he could kill. However, when the fight started again. The abusive stallion was making a much more determined attack - and much nastier. He had apparently got tired of trying to wear Spirit down.

The son of Esperanza did not seem worried.

They fought on and on. Twice the blue roan got a strong grip with his teeth: twice Spirit flung him off. Several times Spirit got a grip on the attacker, and each time he was thrown off. They were too evenly matched, but it had become quite clear that if Spirit made a single mistake, the furious blue roan would surely kill him.

By the time the sun had passed its zenith, it was also becoming clear that it might be necessary for Spirit to kill his opponent.

Nova was becoming desperate and extremely worried. Here, on this little tree-encircled flat, there was no place for Spirit to force the blue roan off a cliff. Here, he was going to have to kill him with his own hooves, his own teeth, and if he did not do it, now, she was sure he would be killed by the abusive savage himself, and the crows would eat the flesh from his bones. Nova shuddered at that thought.

The stallions fought and fought. The sun dropped lower into a band of cloud. Several times they drew back and watched each other, their breath seeming to batter throats and chests, their blood running more freely now from bites and kicks. Sometimes they drank from the small creek. Nova could tell that Spirit had become very angry. After all, he had done nothing to earn the savageness of the blue roan's attack. Or had he? She did not know what to think any longer.

At last both horses were nearing exhaustion. Once Spirit slipped, and the blue roan's fierce onslaught made it even clearer that he would kill if he was not killed or severely damaged himself.

The grass, on which they fought was torn up and the loose soil flew in dust all around. The horses were fighting desperately, each trying to finish off the fight before complete exhaustion claimed him. In the fading light, the rose-red of the sky coloured the dusty air. Blood coloured the horses. Suddenly the abusive stallion made a gigantic spring. He had Spirit: he was pressing him to the ground.

Panic seized Nova. It seemed certain that Spirit would be killed. Just as she had found him, a horse who had absolutely no reason to fight him that moment was going to kill him ... but Spirit rose with all his strength and shook the attacker off. For quite a while Spirit made no attack, but rested, just keeping himself from being damaged. The blue roan must have thought he was becoming really exhausted because he redoubled his efforts to kill. Nova could see that Spirit had recovered a little. At last the blue roan savage made a rather wild rush at him. Spirit moved very slightly to one side and then swung round and fastened on to his opponent's wither. This time he had him too firmly to be shaken off, but the two horses still struggled on in the rosy dust. Evening came and they were still locked together, though not moving as much. It was impossible for the terrified Nova to see which horse had a grip of the other. It was dark when she saw the two shadow of horses sink to the ground, collapse, and then fall apart, their limbs setting in strange attitudes. They were lifeless.

Hidden amongst trees, Nova gave an anguished call. She stood there, shaking, for some minutes, but the two shapes of horses never moved, and already seemed to be taking on the rigidity of death. She began to tremble with fear as she watched the unmoving bodies of two stallions. There was no life in them. Suddenly, possessed by horror, Nova turned and started to gallop away from the smell of dust and blood, and from the two bodies.

Nova needed all the courage of the Mustang breed - all the brains too. Horror and fear must be kept under control. She stopped her mad gallop through the night - stopped dead - then almost stopped breathing. Her heart was pounding, and she trembled all over, but she stepped carefully to one side of the track, mined in towards the river, and then in the direction of Cimarron lands again, walking as quietly as possible.

Nova stood still for a moment, shaking violently, then she turned through denser bush towards the river valley. She would cross it, keeping away from all tracks, find somewhere to hide for the night, and make her way back to her father's home later. Though there had been no other horse with her when she left the Cimarron lands, then she had been following Spirit. Now she was completely alone. No hope, no scent upheld her. In the end, when she would have to go back to her sire's band. That was the only option for her...or perhaps Azogar? His band was closer and she felt so sad and miserable that even staying with Azogar sounded wonderful to her. The night was even emptier than before. Every leaf that touched her hide sent terror through her. She came to the stream. She was going to cross it and get away from the horrifying scene once and for all.

The water was ice-cold, the current strong. Even near the edge, the force of the stream tore at her fine legs, and it was difficult not to fall among the boulders.

Fear walked all around her and within her. There was fear in the moving water, as it caught the rather dim starlight and glittered black, fear in the silence, fear in the sound, fear, oh fear in the sudden sigh of a rising wind.

She decided to cross the creek, and immediately found herself floundering in far deeper water than she had expected. It had been a hot day the sky was indeed partly hazed by cloud, and now the wind moaned far away in the hills above. Perhaps the weather was changing again. Nova forced her way through the bitter stream. She would follow the creek down for a while, till she found a good place, and then hide herself. What had happened to Spirit?

She began to tremble so violently. The bush around her moved: she must indeed give off the scent of fear but how could she stop being afraid? Nova called up all her courage, the courage with which generations of her ancestors had galloped over the sunlit mountains by day, the starlit mountains at night, forced their way through the snows of winter, fought, lived and loved. She felt very tired and without hope. She sank down on to the soft ground among the small bushes.

In front of her eyes the fight seemed still to be continuing... Spirit rearing, striking, Spirit, golden and beautiful, dancing round and round that rangy blue roan ... Half-sleeping, utterly exhausted, she dreamed of the golden horse, image after image seeming to float in the air before her, and then sometimes she was still following his scent. Once, the ghost of the golden horse, blood-stained as he had been, seemed to flit through the bushes, and there was the illusive scent. She was so emotional hurt and drained, that she kept seeing things that weren't really there.

Her heart seemed to fail as she slowly came to a dreadful realization that the beautiful son of Strider and Esperanza, the magnificent, legendary stallion Spirit, was no more, he was gone... dead...killed before her very own eyes. She lifted up her voice with a sorrowful neigh to the dark sky, and a lamenting cry escaped her lips, tears rolling down her paled face.

Big chapter...wow