Disclaimer: The Black isn't mine and Oakwood Acres(If there is such a place) isn't mine either.
Chapter 4
Life changed after my mother's escape. With the onset of winter, the filly, the mare and I were brought in from the paddocks and put in wooden buildings I remember my mother calling 'stable'. " It is where the humans keep their tame horses." She had said.
The stable was strange. The closest thing to it that I had seen in the wild was a cave. These stables weren't dark and damp like the caves were; they were warm and filled with a yellow light that seemed to be coming from what looked like little suns hanging from the roof. Here, we were put in individual stalls and fed dried grass. We stayed here most of the winter, occasionally being brought outside by the humans to walk and trot for a while, then being put back inside.
The humans were strange. I had taken the first opportunity to study them when it came. It came when one of the humans stumbled in, sank onto the ground against the opposite stall door, and seemed to fall asleep. I could barely get my head over the half door in my stall; I still wasn't tall enough to do it, so I had to be content with turning my head sideways and peering at him.
The human had never looked more different to any of us horses. He had a round head, with both eyes in front (how could he ever spot predators sneaking up on him if his eyes were at the front?!), a small, round mouth (which he used to make strange mouth noises), and…those things that stuck out from the side of his head. Were they ears? He walked upright, with his back legs on the ground and his forelegs out and beside him (no wonder humans fell often; how could he keep his balance with only two legs?!) and had a mop of something that might have been a forelock. He didn't have a mane or a tail either. He might have looked a bit more like us if he crouched down and ran on his hooves.
The human's hooves were strange; they didn't look like ours did. They were soft, and ended in five fingers. The hooves could do many things; it could pick up something, stroke our necks, carry objects, and twist and turn in all sorts of ways. And once, we saw the human eating with his hooves holding shiny metallic instruments. How could he eat with his hooves!?! The whole idea was preposterous. That was my first impression of humans: They were strange, and some of their ideas were ridiculous (like wearing coverings on their hind hooves and clothes on their bodies), but on the whole, they weren't as terrible as my mother had made them out to be.
That winter, I also overcame my fear of civilization in general, and humans in particular. When I first came, I jumped and shied from every little sound and movement, sure that they would bring unknown new terrors jumping out at me. Back home, the terrors were simple, clear and defined; we had to stay clear of coyotes and snakes in case we get bitten, or keep away from deep rivers and steep gullies in case we fall in. Here, the terror was indefinite, therefore we couldn't avoid it because we wouldn't know how.
However, as the moons passed, I found that I was getting used to the strange sounds and things. I no longer jumped whenever something moved, nor started when a human hand came to rest on my neck. My sharp senses, keyed up in the wild, were no longer needed here in a world that was devoid of predators, and so they deteriorated. I no longer pricked up my ears at every little sound or footstep, and I no longer tried to bite the humans whenever I had the chance. I also found myself thinking less and less of the other yearlings back home, though I would still escape if I had a chance.
There were other tame horses; I knew that. I could smell them even if I couldn't see them, though we were the only mustangs. Mostly, there were the stock horses, but on the occasions when we were outside, I happened to catch a glimpse of the other larger stable. There were tall, clean-boned horses, small shaggy ponies, and the stock horses. But we were kept away from them, and before long, I didn't think of them anymore. The roan mare maintained her silence, but I would sometimes catch the filly staring at me, as though trying to determine whether I was an alien or not. Fat chance, really, I wanted to tell her sometimes, that I would have green stalks poking out of my head.
Spring came and I turned into a yearling; I was now a one year old.
I had grown taller, gained more weight, and was more filled out. I didn't look like the long-legged lanky foal that I had been. My feet grew slightly larger. I'd now grown tall enough that I could just put my head over the stall door.
The humans increased our trips outside, and the time we spent out of the stable was lengthened. The humans put straps on our heads called 'halters', on to which they would somehow attach ropes with hose strange hooves of theirs. These ropes were used to lead us about.
I was getting used to being walked to and fro, so I had no reason to be frightened that day when the human who had me led me into an empty paddock. He tied the end of the rope to the fence, and try as I might, no matter how hard I yanked with my head, I couldn't pull free.
The human tied another rope around my neck and took the halter off my head. He had another halter-look-alike object with him. This one had a small, shiny metal stick. The human showed it first to me, telling me that it was a 'bridle' and that the shiny thing was a bit, then tried to put it on my head. I snorted and tossed my mane, trying to avoid the thing coming near me. The human grabbed my head and shoved the bit in my mouth; his fingers flew and before I knew it, the bridle straps were done, the bridle firmly on my head.
I snorted and pulled away, now nervous. My trust in human beings was fast dissolving. The sensation of the bit was new and strange. It felt like I had a very thin, cold stick in between my teeth, pressing on my tongue and against the corners of my mouth. I mouthed and chewed, testing the bit, and tried to bite through it. I flung up my head, trying to get rid of the whole thing. The bridle stayed on. My anxiety grew. What was this thing going to do to me?
I was distracted by the human tying the end of a rope to the bridle. He backed away and shook the line. What did the human want me to do? The human had another rope in his hand. He flicked this rope on the ground. I stood and stared. The human repeated this flicking again and again. I didn't budge. How could I? What would I do if I did move, if I didn't even know what to do? He hadn't told me to do anything, at least, anything that made sense. Then, I felt the rope flicked against my hindquarters. Pain licked across my hocks and I squealed in surprise. The fear grew. Whatever trust I had in the human vanished. I was now the wild, suspicious colt who had come months ago, not the tame yearling I had been acting.
The pain came again, and I bolted, away from the human. The rope on the bridle grew taut and I stopped. The human made a mouth-sound. "Walk," he said. I didn't know what that meant. The human came nearer, gathering up the loose rope as he went, so that very soon, we were only a few meters apart. I eyed him, kept my eyes on his human-hooves and when they made a sudden movement, I reared, flailing my hooves. The rope was flicked again and again at my hindquarters. When I came down, the human tried to grab the side of the bridle. I was faster than him; before his hands could close on me, I lunged and sank my teeth in one of his hooves. It wasn't hard, like I had expected, but soft, and I heard a yell of pain from him. The blows from the rope came harder and I let go of him. " My hand!" he was yelling.
Ah, so human-hooves were also called hands. The hand I had bitten was streaming a red liquid.
The human put his hand up to his mouth. He staggered away, still holding the rope to my bridle and the rope used for hitting me, and leaned unto the fence. I watched him, tense, ready to bolt if he made any move toward me.
The human glared at me and made a mouth-sound. I couldn't understand human speech, but it sounded like the human was swearing. He let go of the rope to my bridle and edged away, out of the paddock, his bitten hand still in his mouth.
I cantered around the paddock, feeling triumphant. The human was gone! I felt the giddiness ebb away when I saw him come back with another human. And they were both carrying the ropes for flicking me, and another rope for catching me with. "Careful with the whips," the bitten human told the un-bitten human. The rope used for hitting now had a name.
They entered the paddock. I'd been standing in the center of the paddock, and I backed away, frightened. The humans spread their arms and bent their knees, and began to yell. My ears were pounding with the sound. I shook my head, still backing away. They waved their arms, occasionally flicking the whips against the ground, and continued forward. I continued backing away, eyes going right and left, searching desperately for an escape route. There was none. Then, I felt the fence against my hindquarters. I was cornered. The fear rose in me. Now I could understand why my mother had so hated Men.
The humans were now only a few feet away; one of them had already picked up the rope to my bridle. I felt a fresh surge of panic; surely they would want revenge for being bitten. The fear, desperation, anger and panic rose up in me, and I exploded. My ears went back, flat against my head, I bared my teeth, and charged straight at them. They flung up their arms and yelled louder. I pushed past them and kept going until I was pulled up short. The line to the bridle was taut again, but now there was another rope around my neck.
That night, back in my stall, I nursed my wounds and my resentment. Not that I had any wounds that could be nursed. When the humans had come near me that afternoon in the paddock, I had reared, terrified. They'd brought me down, and dragged me kicking and snarling all the way back to our stable. Here, outside my stall door, while one human clamped my mouth shut, the other quickly removed all the ropes. The bridle was loosened, and was slipped off my head. I'd spat the bit out and fled into my stall.
This day was the beginning of the seemingly endless series of days that would make up my 'breaking in'. I came to dread the sound of the human's footsteps outside the stall door every morning, the voices, the 'training' that instead, was torture to me. The confusion, terror, and resentment grew and boiled, until it all became one great, big mass of hatred. This was the first time in my life that I had truly hated something. Back home, Raha's bullying had just been something to tolerate, just something to live with, but not really something to hate. But this was different. I hated man, period. My longing for home grew. At night, I would pine for my mother, wishing for a word of advice from her, anything, just to see her again.
That was how it went. I was taken out every morning, led to the paddock, where there, the humans would spend hours at a time 'teaching' me 'lessons.' The whip was always there, ever present, ever ready to bring on the necessary disciplinary action was I to rebel. It became more than a whip to me; it was the cause of my being a puppet, forced to do what the humans wanted. The bridle was always there too; every morning, it was forced on me.
I was learning, as the humans called it, but I wasn't really learning at all. Because the whip was there, any chance of learning something was wiped out with the terror that the whip would do something new to me. During the training sessions, I became nervous and skittish, wondering and worrying if I was doing the right thing, what the humans wanted me to do. It was like a game, the humans saying something, and me guessing what it was. More often than not, I would guess wrong. The whip would fall once or twice, then the human would say the command and I would try again. By the end of the training session, while the humans stood and crowed that they had taught me something, I would stand off to the side, reduced to a trembling, sweat-soaked bundle of nerves. My line of thought went like this: " Did I do right? Yeah, maybe…the humans aren't doing anything with the whip…no wait…what was that command again?…maybe they wanted me to go faster…oh man, the whip's coming up–ouch! maybe I did it wrong…was that right or left again? And what is the whole point of doing this?" …..
Some days, because of my resistance to the bridle, the humans would put two bits in my mouth. I specially hated the double-bit; it was like having a mouth full of metal, making you easier to control. Other days, there would be just a single bit, but this bit would be thicker and heavier than the double-bit, so that I had the feeling that my mouth was going to drop off, and I kept my teeth clenched just in case it did. It didn't fall off, but I did get a very sore jaw for days afterward.
The humans also put a deep cut on my tongue; I assume that it was done to make me more sensitive to the bit.
I had learned the 'walk', 'trot', 'canter', and 'gallop' commands (I would do the requested gait at the lunge line) and the humans were now teaching me to go right or left. I didn't really go the direction; I just shifted my weight in either direction and the humans were content.
It wasn't that the humans were cruel; in fact, we were given food, water, and everyday, we were groomed. But to me, I'd rather have poor food or famine and be treated well, than have all the luxuries in the world and be treated like a slave. Not that I was a slave.
The white filly was doing better than me, partly because she and the humans got off to a good start; she was obedient and learned quickly, while I was more stubborn and rebellious. She was being trained in the paddock next to mine. She and the roan mare still weren't speaking to me. I guess they blamed me for their capture. In a way, it was my fault; it was some of my hoofprints that had led the humans to the meadow, but I wasn't entirely to blame; if she and the filly had been more careful, then they wouldn't have been caught. Mustangs value their freedom a lot.
The white filly behaved like an absolute angel. She trotted, walked, did whatever the humans commanded in the paddock. In the stable, I could hear her whinnying a greeting every time the humans came. She was given pats and praises, and the humans acted as if she were the most perfect horse in the world.
I felt sick as I watched them one morning, the humans stroking her neck and all that. It was not because I was jealous. No, I would never be jealous of her. It was because I was sick of watching her being a puppet. I felt that she had no sense of mustang pride. The way she acted, you could almost have believed that she wanted to be in captivity, as if she were a tame horse born in a human stable and not a mustang born in the wild.
In contrast, I behaved like a total nightmare. Sure, I was quiet when in the stable. I could be led to and fro outside safely. But once I was led into the paddock, the wildness began. I was transformed to a screaming, raging monster, rearing and kicking to get free. Until the whip was produced. Then I would quiet down.
It was really just a whole big mess of misunderstanding. The humans thought that they would teach me something by using discipline. They thought that all wild horses are 'bad', and needed to be taught a good lesson on how to behave. They thought that by using force, we would learn faster, and get 'tame' really quick. But it was exactly the opposite. Whenever the whip was present, even though it wasn't being used, I was prone to forgetting what had just been taught to me, worrying about whether I would get a lash of the whip.
The humans got angry quickly. More often than not, they would begin yelling and waving their arms whenever I made a slight mistake..
By using force, they made us nervous and scared, and when we were scared, we were prone to get wild with terror at every little thing. And that was exactly what they were trying to get rid of, that wildness and the tendency to bolt.
One day, when I came back from the paddock and into the stable, there wasn't any hay in the feedbox. I plunged my nose in my water and waited for the humans to bring the food. The hay didn't come. I went hungry that day. The second day, I wasn't given any food either. That day, I was pretty quiet during training. The hunger gnawed at my insides, and when the bit was pushed into my mouth, I didn't fight as much. The humans nodded and made mouth-sounds. Later that day, the filly and I were taken out again and bridled. There was a new human, whom I recognized to be the one who had bought us. We were walked to and fro, turned right and left, then urged into a canter, the humans jogging at our side, and our owner watching. If I weren't that hungry, I would have had been a lot more 'bad' as the humans called it. And so it went. Every time our owner came, I wasn't given any food that day and the day before. This always resulted in my being more quiet and submissive than usual.
Summer came and the weather grew hot. We were back in the paddocks, but now, I was on my own, and the white filly was put in with the mare. Every time the humans wanted to catch me, they would come closer and closer, waving their arms, cracking their whips (which they always seemed to carry) and yelling. I would always back away, and they would corner me against the paddock fence. Then, they would catch me.
One day, when I was led into the paddock, I noticed something new other than the bridle. This something new also seemed to be made of leather. It was squarish, with a curved top and two straps underneath. My trainer, the one whom I had bitten before, spoke with the others, telling them something about "-getting even with that horse…" And strangely, all the other humans except the one who was training me left. They had always been there before, just watching while my trainer put me through my paces and "taught" me new things.
This morning, it was just my trainer and I. I was wearing the double-bit today. There was an ominous feeling in the pit of my stomach. Something was going to happen today, something bad…
The trainer started with the usual exercise, walking and trotting me on the lunge line. I eyed him warily. He had the squarish something in his hands and was approaching me. " This," he declared loudly with an impatient note to his voice, as if wanting to get it over with, and edging nearer still," is a saddle." And he added in an undertone, " The boss has threatened to fire me if you don't improve. I'm under probation, and it's all because of You!" With that, he plunked the saddle, whatever it was used for, down in the middle of my back. I bucked and the saddle went flying off. The human went to fetch it, and came back. He was suddenly very angry; he looked murderous. "Don't think that you're going to get out of this one!" he yelled in my face. The whip cracked and came flying with every single word.
" Horses-" crack! " like you-" crack ! "need-" crack! " to be-" crack! " taught-" crack! "a lesson!" crack!
"You-" crack! "will wear-" crack! "this saddle-" crack! "right now," crack! "whether" crack! "you-" crack! "like it" crack! "or not!" He gave me a particularly painful lash.
With each crack, the whip cut into my skin, leaving white-hot gashes in its wake. My back felt like it was on fire. I let out a squeal of pain and surprise and whirled to meet him, teeth bared. The whip had been used on me before, but always lightly, just tapping my skin, giving a stinging sensation that went away after a while. This was different.
" Don't you know?" the human yelled. "I've always trained horses before you by whipping, making, forcing them into doing something, and it has always, always, always, worked before!" His eyes were bloodshot and bulging. " Until you came along! You were scared, like all the others, but you didn't obey me like they did!" I found myself backing away from the human mad with rage. "What is it with you?! My reputation is being destroyed-," he yelled, " by some stupid, dumb, animal that can't even think-"
I could feel the anger rising in me too. The fear was gone, and was replaced by a maddening rage. Red dots started dancing in front of my eyes. At that moment, I didn't care if he continued to beat me. And as he continued to shout and wave the whip in my face, occasionally giving me more lashes, enough was enough. I exploded.
My ears went back, pinned flat against my head. My lip curled. I charged. This time, it wasn't me that was running away. For the first time, I wasn't bolting away from him; I was chasing him. He started to run, then tripped and fell. I smelt fear. It wasn't my own. The red dots in front of my eyes increased. My rage grew. Someone screamed. I think it was me, but I didn't care then; I just wanted the human dead. I reared and flailed my hooves, pawing the air. When I came down, I expected to feel the human beneath my hooves; expected to hear pounding, my hooves pounding the human flesh. Instead, my hooves came down on the ground. The human had rolled away. I whirled, and at that moment, something leapt on to my back from behind. I could almost feel my knees buckling under the weight. The human was sitting on me, his hands wrapped around my mane, his knees against my sides.
A rope was around my neck, pressing against my throat, and all the while, the whip was whistling through the air, cutting searing lashes into my skin. I gathered my strength and reared again. The human's weight threw me off balance and we both went over backward. I crashed on to the ground and scrambled up. The human was on his feet too; he was still yelling. I felt the rope tighten around my neck, crushing my windpipe. I tried to swing around and kick him with my back legs. He dodged away. I was heaving and gasping for air. And I wasn't getting any. My lungs felt like they were bursting. I made a feeble attempt to bolt. The rope pressed tighter. I choked. The human was now shouting with a gleeful expression on his face. Everything went blurry. I could feel my knees buckling, and was dimly aware of the ground coming up to meet me. Then everything went black.
"Shocking…really shocking… well anyway, he's being sold as soon as he heals…" I opened my eyes. I was back in the stable, lying on the straw, and the humans were talking outside my stall door. " …nearly strangled himself earlier today…anyway, Jim says he'll never work with him again…" The humans walked past and went out of the stable.
There was no doubt who the he they were talking about was. I was being sold as soon as I healed. What healed? I didn't remember getting sick…
Then I tried to stand up and felt fiery pains all over my back and sides. Oh. I turned my head and sniffed the wounds. There was a funny sort of smell in them…maybe medicine?
Hours later, I still stood brooding, thinking. If the humans hated me that much, then why didn't they get rid of me now? Slowly, as I thought, the answer came. When we were first bought, the human had looked at us, choosing what he wanted to buy. Maybe the humans here didn't want the buyers to see my mangled sides…I wondered how long it would take to heal. I couldn't wait to get out of the place.
The rest of the time I spent in that place before being sold was either in my stall or being walked outside. Because I was going to be sold, I was being fed the usual hay, plus oats, and something called linseed to make my coat shine. I was walked or trotted at the lunge line, but this time, it was with a different human. This human was a lot different from Jim; he didn't get mad quickly, and most of the time, he just gave off an air of indifference. And I wasn't being made to wear a bridle; I nearly trampled the humans when they tried to get it on me the first time I was out. There was just the halter, with the rope attached to it.
My mane, tail and fetlocks were trimmed. One afternoon, a human came. I was caught and the human nailed u-shaped pieces of metal on my feet. It was very heavy and awkward at first, but I soon got used to clopping around with the shoes. Another day, another human came and looked at me. He picked up my feet, checked my teeth, ran his hands all over my body, walked me around, and wrote something on a piece of paper, which he gave to the human handling me. I was de-wormed, and something sharp was stuck into my thigh several times with the interval of several days. The humans said that I was being given 'shots', whatever that was. The human who gave me my shots came again and filed my teeth. He stuck something long down my throat, pressed a cold, circular object against my chest, and gave me more shots.
I was exercised daily, and groomed for hours on end, until my golden coat was gleaming. My mane and tail were brushed out straight. I didn't know why the humans suddenly went into such a fuss over me, until I realized that they had to make prospective buyers interested in buying me.
The cuts were now gone. They had prickled and stung when touched at first, but by some miracle of human medicine, all that was left of them was a small white, moon-shaped scar near my withers that could be hidden by my mane.
Now that I was no longer starved, I was my fiery self again, but as long as the whip and bridle were kept out of my sight, I was quiet.
Fourteen moons after the 'training session', and a little over seven full moons since I had arrived in the middle-man's stable, I was led into a van, and I knew that I was being taken away.
Being sold didn't feel any different from when I was still un-sold. I was taken out of the van a few days later and loaded in to a dark stall in something that shook and vibrated, something I later found out was called a plane. I was sick most of the time I spent in the plane, so I was glad when I was at last led out of it, transferred to another van, traveled in the van, was unloaded, and led into another stable. Here, I was rubbed down in a stall and left alone with a box of hay and oats.
There were other horses here. Lots and lots of other horses. Hundreds of other horses. I was put in a stall, with empty stalls on either side of me, so that I had no on to talk to. Not that I would have talked to a stranger anyway.
Several moons passed this way, with the grooms coming every morning to groom, feed and exercise us, then leaving us alone for the rest of the day.
Until the day. The day that I was going to be sold. I knew it, knew it as soon as I woke up that morning and smelled the grooms' heightened tension and excitement. There wasn't the usual talk and laughter, as the humans joked while they worked on us.
The grooms were rushing about, doing everything and grooming everyone with lightning speed. When somebody spoke, their voices were usually curt and snappy. Some horses were led out, their coats glossy, their hooves clopping on the stone floor. They never came back. As the day wore on, the stable slowly emptied. Soon, all that was left were us yearlings.
They came for me when the sun was in the middle of the sky. A human let himself into my stall and quickly brushed over my coat. A line was clipped to my halter and I was led out, out of the stable and into a wide space. Humans were sitting or standing behind more ropes that roped off the ring.
I was walked to and fro in front of the crowd of humans. Someone, probably the auctioneer, from behind me was saying, " And here is Free Wind, by a – whoa, ladies and gentlemen! We've got an unusual one here. This colt was by a mustang stallion out of Bella. As you folks may remember, Bella is a black filly by Always Carefree out of Ocean Beauty by Winged Feet. She ran away years ago, but here is her colt. As you may well know - " At that moment, he started to enumerate a long list of my ancestors and I stopped listening. I swept my gaze around the ring, wondering who my new owner was. Would he be nice? Or would he take after the likes of Jim, my trainer? Never mind, I wouldn't stay long enough to find out. As soon as I get the chance, I would make a break for it.
I was soon sold and brought to my new owners' van. There were other horses, but I couldn't tell how many in the dark. It wasn't pitch black inside, with a small window at the back of my stall, so that the small patch of light that was let in made it just light enough to see around my stall. Small as in, I could just slip my nose out of the opening/window/whatever you want to call it. Not that I wanted to stick my head out there anyway.
I spent the rest of the night brooding on things. Free Wind. That was what the humans had called me. It was a surprisingly good name – considering my past behavior, I'd expected the humans to call me " Little Monster" or something like that.
There was another problem that had come up. I'd tried to not think about it for as long as I could. But I couldn't avoid it now.
The humans were taking me away to who-knows-where – a place. And I didn't know where it was. How could I run away if I didn't even know where to go? My mother had said that all I had to do was to follow the sun west – but for all I know, I could end up at the Coast – or wherever my mother had been headed when she escaped. She'd been heading west too.
My mother. I was bursting with the need to know whether she and Northlight had made it back to the herd. I just wanted so much to see her and the others again – I wouldn't have minded even if it was Raha – as long as it was someone from our herd. The truck bounced and I swayed. My eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. Finally, I dozed off.
How long we were in that truck, I do not know. I remembered waking up once and eating a few mouthfuls of hay, then going back to sleep. Another time, the humans came and gave us fresh water. I dropped back to sleep after gulping down a few mouthfuls and glaring at the humans. They hadn't glared back.
The rest of the time that I was awake, I spent studying my stablemates, or rather, my van-mates. It was so B-O-R-I-N-G. With a capital B and everything, but there was nothing else to do. There were several mares; I was the only colt and the youngest there, being the only yearling. The mares kept their silence; they dozed most of the time or kept their backs on me. Either they didn't care at all, or they knew what I was and looked at me so lowly that they didn't want at all to talk to filth like me. I'd tried once to talk to the mare in the stall next to mine, but she only turned an eye on me and glared so fiercely that I gave up.
I was sleeping when the van jolted into a stop. I jerked awake just in time to see a human clip a line to my halter before leading me down the ramp to blinding sunlight and to my new home.
We were outside a big(in my eyes) stable with a shiny sign that said "Oakwood Acres" . I caught a glance of spacious stalls and a clean floor as the mares were led inside. My human didn't bring me in with the others, but went on past paddock after paddock filled with horses of every size and color.
He unclipped the line from my halter and turned me loose in an empty paddock, telling me "Sir Peppero'll keep you company" before going away. I stared around the paddock. There wasn't a single person or horse in it. It wasn't very big, just big enough for a couple of horses to gallop around freely. There was a very big tree at the far corner of it. I trotted around and rolled in the grass. This was the first time I'd been turned out in a paddock in weeks.
It happened when I'd just finished a roll. I had ended up near the fence. I heard hooves and found myself looking up to the faces of horses, the foals my age. They stretched their noses over me curiously, sniffing, and I was reminded of my introduction to the herd. I was whuffing noses with them when someone took a bite out of my neck. I scrambled up and away, surprised.
"Nice little demons – I mean , young'ns, aren't they?" someone asked. I whipped around and stared. There hadn't been anybody in the paddock with me – I was sure of that.
Something moved under the shadow of the huge tree.
Turns out I was wrong. There was somebody there after all. The somebody walked forward and came to stand before me.
He wasn't like anything I had ever seen before. The horse was old; very old–I could tell that, and he wasn't very tall. That wasn't unusual. It was his coat that made me stare. It was mottled black and white, with a white background and black spots or splotches or whatever you call them going across, all the way. " I'm an Appaloosa," the horse added, watching me stare as if he were amused. He swept by me to the fence. The yearlings scattered. I bounded up beside him.
" That one now," he motioned with his nose to the yearling that had bitten me. " That black one–he's the mean one. Humans called him Steele. Watch out for him; if you're not careful, one day, he'll either eat you alive or trample you dead." I snorted. That wouldn't happen. The horse went on. "The two chestnuts–they're half brothers–same sire, different dams. The bay –" he motioned again with his nose, " He's a loner. Those three fillies–that bay one and the creamy one are always together–are the only females of the whole lot."
" That about you?" I blurted. He hadn't told me his name, but I'd guessed who he was. "My name," the old horse said, trying to look dignified, " is Sir Peppero. The humans call me 'Sir P'. Now you –" he turned to glare at me. "–will call me Sir Peppero. With the SIR, mind you." "The stupid names those silly humans give." He muttered under his breath as he turned away and started to graze. I joined him; I'd forgotten just how hungry I was.
" Chaya'll come tomorrow," he said to himself afterward, when we were watching the yearlings race. " Who's Chaya ?" I asked. " The human who takes care of us." He said vaguely. "Now be quiet. I want to watch the sunset." I fell silent.
That night, Sir Peppero and I dozed head-to-tails under the tree. I fell asleep to the chirping of the crickets and the sound of the wind gently going through the leaves of the huge tree we stood under.
A/N: Did any of the horses in the Black Stallion Series win the Triple Crown?
Faia Ookami – Thanks a lot.