Disclaimer: I don't own:

1. The Black

and

2. Oakwood Acres(if there's an Oakwood Acres)

  I stuck my head out of my stall door and whinnied a good morning to everybody in the barn.

  The answers came back; Sandstorm's, Moon's, Marionette's, and everybody else. Except for Steele's. 'Everybody else' meant the rest of the yearlings. Or rather, two-year-olds.

  This was my second winter in life, and I'd been in captivity for seventeen full moons.

  Since we were now two-years-old and were two-year-olds, and since two-years-old two-year-olds began intensive training for the track, we'd been moved into the training, which was closer to the track than the paddocks.

   Dick and Chaya came stomping into the barn, blowing on their hands. They grabbed grooming kits from outside our stalls, entered our stalls, and began grooming us.

  They usually worked in the stalls across the aisle from each other. Chaya usually came into my stall first since I was nearest to the barn door, and Dick was usually seen in the stall across the aisle from mine, which was Moon's.

   Today was like any other, the routine that I had come to know so well in only a few weeks. Chaya picked up the brush and began pushing it in smooth, long strokes across my shoulder, working all the way up to my head and feet before going over to my other side.

   I leaned into the brush, not yet that awake. There wasn't only one brush; there were several, because the one that was used to make my coat clean had to be cleaned itself. It was all very confusing.

  She scratched my ears and headed to the next stall beside mine, Rapunzel's. Three other grooms, whose names I hadn't yet found out since I was new here, came yawning into the stable. Since Sims didn't believe in feeding until after workouts, one of them led me out to the aisle and clipped me to crossties. He tacked me up and handed the reins to Chaya, who had come back from the grooming and had on her helmet.

  She vaulted onto my back lightly and the groom tugged me out into the cold air. I raised my tail in protest, not really wanting to leave the warmth of the barn.

  Sims was standing with Ken, the assistant trainer. He was holding a stopwatch. He motioned us onto the track just as some of the other two-year-olds were led out, their coats gleaming.

  I stepped onto the track, my breath misting in front of my face. The ground was hard, but not so hard that workouts had to be canceled, like last week, and the week before that. Today had been the first chance to stretch our legs for many days.

  Chaya nudged me lightly with her heels and I broke into a trot along the outside rail, the wrong way around the track, warming up. I had been wanting to go back to sleep before, but now I was wide-awake. Something like electricity went through my body, and my skin tingled with it. I was suddenly charged full of energy and power, and I was dying to use it.

   Somewhere up my back, I heard Chaya chuckle. "Oats do wonders."

   What were oats? Before I knew it, we were at the half-mile post and Chaya was turning me around. I took a deep breath and suddenly, I felt alive, very, very much alive.

   Sims raised his hand and Chaya's seat left the saddle. His hand came down. "Go!" Chaya cried. I didn't need the light kick she gave me to leap forward into a gallop. She used her left rein to keep me on the inside rail as we pounded up the track. I flicked back an ear and could hear other horses running behind me. The white rail whipped by, a ribbon. Someone drew up beside me. I rolled my eye right. It was Dick on Moon. I could feel another horse breathing down my rump, and I had a feeling it was Steele. Steele wasn't to be trusted.

   I tugged at the bit. Chaya tightened her fingers on the reins, telling me to wait. I tried to get the bit in my teeth. No luck. She was alert today, not like that morning a few weeks ago when I'd raced away and scared the wits out of her. I'd gotten the biggest telling off in my life, and I hadn't dared to try it since. Until now, that is. And somehow, I wanted to do it again.

   We must've passed the pole where Chaya was supposed to let me out somewhere, because I felt her hands suddenly loosen the reins. My ears went back, listening, as I lengthened my stride and we put on a spurt of speed. The white ribbon of the rail thinned to a line. The fields and barns flashed past, blurs of green and white and red.

   We were flying so fast that the wind roared and whistled in my ears and the cold air stung my nostrils. My eyes began watering.

   Behind me, the other horses kept pace, their hooves pounding the ground. Moon was still running beside me, but there were now two someones running beside her. We were spread out across the track.

   I felt a burning desire to get ahead. My ears flicked forward and I pulled at the bit some more, asking for more rein. Chaya's hands let me out another notch and I swept past, into the lead. We rounded the turn. I rolled my eye back and could see three other horses behind.

   Now I was happy. This was what I usually like best, running in a race(even though this really wasn't a race) with me in the lead.

   Then, she was sitting back, gathering rein, asking me to stop. What? This soon? But we'd just…

   I slowed to a canter. Sims was running beside us, with the fence between us, waving his stopwatch. Chaya gathered more rein and I slowed to a trot.

   And no, I was not happy. I pulled down my head and bucked. Chaya stayed on. Arghh! I would have to think of something else, she was getting so used to my tricks that she wasn't falling off anymore. And I knew I wasn't supposed to, but making her fall off had been fun.

   I tried to buck again, but she pulled me to a stop, slid down, and led me over to Sims.

   They were talking when my teeth closed on her hair. She yelped and swung around. Her fingers loosened on the reins for a second, but that was enough time for me to pull free and get a good distance away.

   Chaya went after me. I wasn't worried. Unconfined, they would have a hard time catching me, and if they got close, I could always jump the fence…

   I didn't know what they would do to me when they caught me, but I knew one thing: my playfulness that had supposedly vanished over the past months had returned.

   The humans caught me hours later. It had taken several of them and Sir Peppero to catch me. I'd led them on a chase, but they finally cornered me in one of the paddocks.

   I was going to spend the rest of the day planning something else, but Chaya took me out and rode me on the trails. We trotted and cantered and trotted some more, and not once did she let me gallop. She was saying about it building my muscles and my stamina for the longer races like the Breeder's Cup, or something like that anyway.

   I wasn't really listening; the leaves flying across the path were more interesting.

   This also became routine everyday. Sometimes, the humans would take two or more two-year-olds out together, and they had to bring Sir P to keep us in line.

   Poor Sir P spent half his time snapping at us when we made mistakes (like side-stepping) and the other half barking out orders.

   But the trail rides worked. Weeks later, I found out that I could go longer distances at full gallop, and I didn't tire that easily anymore. So did the others.

   Aside from training in the track and being ridden in the trails, we were taught some other things too. We had to get used to getting off and on a trailer, and we had to spend at least a night each inside, in preparation for traveling to tracks.  

   The grooms recorded the noise at a real racetrack and played it at the barn so that we wouldn't get scared or distracted when the time came for real races.

   We had to get used to new people and new riders, because we'd meet a lot of strangers at the track, and if ever we were sold, another hotwalker or jockey would be riding us.

   We practiced using the starting gates at the track every morning, like in a real race. We were taught to break cleanly and evenly, to wear blinkers and hoods, to get used to new sounds, noises, and more trailers.

   The Metal-Man came, with his hammer and forge, took off our old shoes and nailed new shoes on us. These new shoes, I found, made running easier, because we had more traction.

   The vet came, with his syringes and vaccines, and gave us shots. He filed and checked our teeth, ran his hands up and down our legs, and had us walked to and fro.

   A human came, also, with her clipboard, lifting everybody's (the horses) lips and peering at our teeth. Something was put on mine; all the other two-year-olds said that it was my registration number – they'd had theirs when they were still yearlings.

   Because of the bolting incident at the track, I'd been spending the nights in Sir P's paddock. Sims said that I needed to be taught a few manners, and that "that horse has to know how to behave properly." So that I could decide whether to behave properly or not.

   And Sir P was a good teacher.

   Mornings were the same, and afternoons too, except that instead of going back to my stall after training, I was cooled off and turned loose in the paddock again. But now that the paddock next to ours was empty, the two-year-olds being in the barn, I was more lonely than ever.

   During this time, I discovered sugar. Although I didn't know that it was called that at first.

   One morning, after a particularly well-behaved workout (no bucks, no kicks, no mischievous antics of any sort – Dick said it was a miracle that I'd gotten through a workout without taking a bite out of anyone) at the track (Sir P's attitude had been rubbing off on me), Chaya fed me some white stuff that tasted – I don't know, I'd never tasted it before. It had tasted something like the slices of apple I had been given. It had tasted sweet, and I must have looked puzzled because Chaya laughed and said that it was sugar, and that it had been my prize because I had been behaving well.

   And then, one night, something happened that made me not lonely anymore.

   I'd been standing under the tree, dozing, when someone came running and whistled for me. I whirled and trotted to the fence, as we'd been taught. It was Chaya. She had come in the direction of the 'woods', a line of trees that separated the back pasture from the paddocks, concealed a shallow brook, and through which the riding trails led.

   There was a sense of urgency in her voice, and when she touched me, her fear transferred to me too. She was talking rapidly, and I was growing more apprehensive by the second.

   Something was wrong, but I didn't know what it was because I couldn't understand what she was saying.

   "You have to come. They're all inside the barn and they wouldn't come out. You have to call them..., I know they'll listen to you , please, they'll die if you don't …"

   What did all that mean? The horses were inside the barn and…what?

   I felt her fingers grip my mane, felt her weight as she jumped up and onto my back, felt her knees against my sides as I wheeled and trotted across the grass. She didn't have reins, but something told me to head for the training barns. I broke into a gallop halfway across the paddock. The fence was high, and I would need the speed to take me over it.

   I'd never jumped it before, and this fence was higher, much higher than the one I had jumped earlier. But I'd been jumping bushes and logs back in the wild, so I'd had plenty of practice. The only problem was, I'd never done it with a rider before …

   If I balked at the last second before lift off, Chaya would go sailing. If I misjudged the distance and we crashed into the fence, we would break our necks or worse. If her weight threw me off balance and my hooves hooked the top rail of the fence… I didn't even want to think about what would happen.

   But there was no time to think, time only to run … I gauged the distance and measured my strides. The wind came and whipped my mane and her hair as my hindquarters pushed and we lifted off from the ground. For an instant, it was like we were flying into the sky. I felt Chaya lift her hands free from my mane, felt her lean forward with me, felt her bounce on my back as the ground rose up to meet me and we hit it with a bone-jarring thud.

   We burst out of the lane and into the clear area before the barn a few seconds later, and I finally saw what Chaya had meant.

   The heat came first. I started to sweat when we got close. Chaya slid off my back as we watched the flames dancing on the roof, mesmerized.

   The training barn was on fire.

   And from the looks of it, all the horses were still inside.

   Sims was out in front, directing the grooms, lifting buckets of water himself as they tried to control the flames. Above the yells and the noise, I could hear high-pitched terrified whinnies – the calls of the horses inside. They could have come out any time they wanted to; the door-frame of the barn was stone. Stone doesn't burn.

   The only problem was, they were too terrified to do it.

   But the inside of the barn, the stalls, the beams supporting the roof and the ladder to the hayloft – were made of wood. And wood does burn.

   I gazed at the fire in wonder, almost forgetting why I was here until Chaya yelled in my ear and I started. "Call them!" she was saying. "They wouldn't listen to us! Call them out before the roof collapses!"

   I lifted my head and sent out the loudest neigh I could manage. The horse-calls stopped for a moment, as if their owners were pausing to listen. I neighed again, telling them to come out without words. I felt Sir P come up beside me and call too.

    Our voices were drowned out by the arrival of the fire-trucks. But it was enough. The horses had heard us.

   There was silence for another moment. Then, there was a crashing, thundering sound as the horses broke their stall doors, the clip-clopping of dozens of hooves as they made their way down the aisle, and finally the stream of horses burst out of the stable door, their glossy coats covered with ash and soot, their red-rimmed eyes wide with fear.

   The last horse was barely out of the stable when with a roaring, crashing sound, the whole support of the roof collapsed. The roof caved in.   

  Chaya and Dick reached out to touch them, their fingers playing with their manes, their hands soothing and stroking.

   Sir P and I went among them, touching noses with those we knew, rubbing our faces on the necks of others, letting ourselves be rubbed until we were almost as dirty as they were.

   The horses' fear soon disappeared as they milled around us, stamping their hooves, swishing their tails, snorting their relief. They would have ran away; bolted, in normal circumstances, but then, these weren't normal circumstances. And so they stayed.

   I found Sandstorm huddled with Marionette and Moon. Their blackened coats made them barely recognizable.

   We watched the firemen fight the fire, and just when the sky turned gray, the last flame was finally put out.

   Since the fire completely destroyed the barns, the horses in training had to be put out in the paddocks, since the in-foal mares and the stallions couldn't be taken out of theirs'.

   That was perfectly fine with me, because I was now back in the paddock with the other two-year-olds.

   The humans still didn't know what started the fire. Moon told me that they had first felt the heat; the stable had become uncomfortably warm. Then came a crackling noise – and they saw flames licking the roof section above the aisle. The fire had spread before they began calling for help and the humans noticed. There had been instant pandemonium. They wanted to, knew that they had to somehow get out of the stable – but they were too wild with fear to really try it. And there was the question of breaking out of their stalls – the hinges and locks were strong. Smoke poured inside and they started choking.

   Then they had heard us neighing. That cleared their minds. The fire had already weakened the stall doors, but it still took some work to ram their way out. The roof had now become a blazing inferno. The support beams started falling at the back of the stable when they burst out of their stalls and made a beeline for the door. 

   Sandstorm couldn't tell me anything; he had been dozing and hadn't even felt the heat until the time when they were already running for fresh air. He had awakened in time, and had been one of the last horses out of the stable.

   I didn't realize how much I really missed them until I was back with them.

   But as the weeks passed, I found that maybe I was wrong after all.

   I'd missed everyone – at least everyone that I knew – Sandstorm, Moon, Marionette, Rapunzel, the Phoenix brothers – except for Steele.

   I hadn't known why I had disliked him when we first met, other than for the reasons that he was cold and arrogant.

   He became sneering too, making cutting remarks and snide comments about my being half-blood. When Sandstorm tried to defend me, Steele attacked him too.

   We spent more time going off, walking around the wood, doing anything just to stay out of Steele's way. We could have fought him, the two of us together, but somehow, it didn't seem right. His battle was with me alone; he really had nothing against Sandstorm. I was his target. And someday, but not right now, I would get back at him.

   As the days slipped by, I also found myself spending more and more time with Moon. I didn't know why, but we would sometimes end up at the same places at the same time. When this happened, at first, we would turn and make for the main group of two-year-olds almost at once, walking slowly, sometimes talking. But we were soon taking our time, intentionally walking slowly so as not to arrive back too soon. Soon, we were taking detours, going around and around the paddock, crisscrossing the bit of wood that wasn't fenced off, just talking, walking, anything, to get away from Steele.

   Making her laugh was fun. We would spend whole afternoons standing under a tree, head-to-tail swishing away the flies from each other's faces, thinking of ways to bug the humans, specially Chaya and Dick, imagining their reactions, and just laughing.

   Or we would dream up ways to get rid of Steele, whom she hated as much as I do, ways we knew couldn't possibly happen, but were fun to invent anyway.

   I once asked her why she hated Steele, because she had absolutely no reason to. And her reply had been short and surprising: "I hate him because you do."

   Steele soon noticed us, and would sometimes come over before we left for another of our walks, glaring at me, asking where we were going, what we were doing, and just being very nosy.

   Before long, he was trailing us everywhere we went, hounding our footsteps, so that we tried more than ever to get away. 

   As expected, we soon ran out of ways-to-annoy-Steele or ways-to-annoy-Chaya to enumerate. She told me about her family, which could be traced back to Native Dancer, about life before she was weaned, about how she didn't really want to stay here all her life, but to go out and see the world. 

   I told her about Mother, about Thunder and Raha, about life with the herd and about the time when I was first caught. I showed her the half-hidden scar near my withers.

   It was night at that time, and we were standing before the small brook in the woods, watching the moon's reflection dance and ripple as the hock-deep water sped over the rocks and pebbles.

   "I wish I could meet your mother," she nickered softly.

   "You can." I nickered back. " If I could somehow get away, do you want to come with me? We could escape together and I'll bring you to meet the herd. After that, if you still want to, I can bring you back here."

   She was silent for a moment. Then, I felt her breath on my ear as she whispered, "I would. And I don't want to come back."

   She wanted to run away and stay with me!

   That night, the moon had never shone brighter, nor had the sky ever looked more beautiful before.