Disclaimer : "The Black Stallion isn't mine." How many times have I been saying that and people still don't get it?
*joke, people, joke only* J
Anyways, nice reading ang hope you enjoy and don't fall asleep!
A/N: I 'm really sorry I can't update as often as before. We have limited Internet use here, and I'm pretty busy with schoolwork right now. I'll try to update more during vacations.
Chapter 9"Ok…so let's see. Uh…there's your mother…no no cross her out…she's black, but she's obviously not a stallion, and she couldn't possibly be that big… …uh…there's Steele…but he was the one being picked on – "
"It was me that was being picked on," I interrupted Sandstorm, "until he came to my rescue, that is."
As usual, we were having our over-the-fence communication, but this time, instead of sharing the latest information about Steele and his plans, we were now coming up with a list of all the black horses we ever knew. Or in this case, we never knew.
We were speculating about who he was.
The black stallion.
The minute Steele had returned, or rather, been returned back to his paddock, Sandstorm had rushed over at once and we'd begun our earnest discussion, and the only thing that prevented Steele from barging in too was the fact that he was now strutting around in front of Marionette, Moon, and Fire Phoenix and belting out his side of the story. I glanced over Sandstorm's shoulder and could see him throwing glowering looks our way. Marionette twitched her ears and looked like she didn't believe him, Moon looked like she wanted to be anywhere else except there, and Fire Phoenix's gaze was wandering; he wasn't really listening. Steele went on; even if we couldn't hear what he was going on about, though it was sure to be something about earlier said incident involving the manner in which he had been returned to his paddock.
"So uh…let's go over the list again," Sandstorm drew my attention back to the topic. "There's your mother, Steele, and uh… there's Shadow…and Dark Cocoa…oh, and don't forget Hot Chocolate…Ok. Your mother's out, Steele's out, Shadow…you don't even know him, so he just wouldn't come barging in here to save you…and he's old…" Shadow was one of the stallions kept in the breeding barns. And as Sandstorm had said, he was old. Not as old as Sir Peppero, but maybe as old as my mother. And counting, my mother was turning twelve springs this coming spring.
Even if he had been fit, Shadow wouldn't have had the speed and the strength needed to make Steele fly over the fence the way he had.
"…But Dark Cocoa is too young…oh come on, he's just a yearling…" Dark Cocoa wasn't even black; but his coat was a rich, dark seal brown, so rich and so dark that you just might mistake it for black. "You know, it just could be – " I began. Sandstorm cut me off. " Yeah, I know, it just might be him…but you're forgetting something…" I hadn't actually forgotten anything. It just could be Dark Cocoa, but the stallion had been a true black; in fact, his coat was soo black, it seemed to shine a cobalt blue. Cocoa was also massive; both his parents had been big. But he still had that slight…look… that all yearlings seemed to have. And besides, the stallion had been all black. I was sure of it.
Dark Cocoa had a white stocking running up his right foreleg. I would have seen it immediately.
And he had a wide white blaze down his face.
The stallion was all black.
And besides, Dark Cocoa was a yearling…..
"Forget Cocoa," Sandstorm muttered more to himself than to me. "What about Hot Chocolate?"
"Are you crazy?" I asked. "If we're crossing off my mother, then cross off Hot Chocolate too."
Hot Chocolate was big. Hot Chocolate was black. But Hot Chocolate was a MARE. In fact, she was Dark Cocoa's mother.
"Are there any riding horses who fit that description?" I swished my tail slowly.
"Nah…no wait…oh yeah, I just forgot," Sandstorm turned to me. "There was this riding horse. His name –" my ears pricked up at the word his –" is Remembrance –" I felt a bubble of hope well up inside me –" and he's big and he's black, without any markings, but you don't know him; no, you won't know him –" I was actually leaning forward to hear better – " because he died a few weeks before you first came here."
The bubble of hope burst.
We grazed beside each other that evening, separated by the fence, tearing up mouthfuls of grass, and pausing in between to make suggestions that were getting more and more ridiculous by the minute.
By the time the stars came out and most of the other horses were already dozing, we were still arguing about one of his latest crazy ideas–that it had been Northlight who had appeared earlier.
I was shaking my head so hard my ears were almost flopping from side to side. "It couldn't possibly be Northlight… Northlight is copper…"
Sandstorm threw up his head with frustration. "All I'm saying is, Northlight could have rolled in soot or dust and come here…and you know, maybe to disguise himself…or he could just be very very very dirty…and stop shaking your head like that before your ears go flying off…"
"But if it was Northlight, assuming it was Northlight, why would he wait so long to come here? Why now and not earlier – say at our first fight? And anyway, Northlight would never dare leave the herd…you know what happens…" I had told him about the time Northlight had to fight two stallions one after the other, without my mother looking after the herd.
He sighed.
I sighed.
He sighed again.
Sir P dozed nearby. Or at least, he had been dozing. Now, however, he was inching toward us, his eyes still half-closed, no doubt to scold us for disturbing his beauty sleep. I nudged Sandstorm, jerked my head toward the white, spotted shape creeping up on us, and nodded. Sandstorm nodded back and slipped away, silently making for the knot of horses back in his paddock.
I slipped away too, before Sir P could catch me.
We would continue the discussion tomorrow.
We never did get to finish the list. The next morning, we both woke to the sound of Chaya and Dick's whistles. There was no time to talk during the walk to the barn and during the grooming.
We needn't fear the humans hearing, because they wouldn't have understood us. But there were other horses there. Lots of other horses. And we couldn't take the risk of being overheard.
We were galloped together that morning. I don't know why it was allowed, but Sims hadn't objected when Chaya boldly led me out beside Sandstorm and Terri, Sandstorm's rider.
We started the warm-up, trotting briskly. I glanced at Sandstorm. There would be no running-to-be-first today. I wouldn't pull ahead, or try to go faster. We would run side by side, like brothers.
Sandstorm rolled back his eye and snorted. "It's him," he muttered to me. Steele.
He was jogging behind Sandstorm, and came to run beside him in a few strides. I could see Sandstorm's eyes glinting as he tried to glare at Steele without turning his head. Steele only grinned coldly and leaned over to whisper in my ear, "So you've got your little friend here to protect you, now that that black stallion is gone."
It was a loud whisper. Sandstorm heard it too. I flicked back my ears a little and ignored the threat. Sandstorm didn't.
Sandstorm bristled.
The three of us swept around the track, trotting in a line. I was at the rail, Sandstorm in between Steele and me. I tried not to think of the fight.
We reached the half-mile pole. Sim's arm fell. We surged forward as one.
Chaya kept me back, reminding me again and again with the reins and her seat to that I shouldn't barge out of line.
I wouldn't have had. I was more worried about Steele and Sandstorm.
In the past few weeks, Sandstorm had turned more and more against Steele. At first, he had tolerated Steele's advances of friendship with half-hearted smiles, nods, and weak nickers. Now, he had taken to staring stonily and sometimes, glares.
Steele knew this.
And I didn't have any doubts that he would do something about it.
We were going around the bend. Steele had drawn away a bit. I stayed where I was, not wanting to go near him. Steele's rider checked him, and he dropped back, his black hindquarters churning dust in my face. I dropped back a bit too.
Sandstorm surged ahead to run beside him.
Now there were the two of them, running together, before me. Almost all I could see were two black tails, a black body, and a bay one.
It became a battle of speed. First, one of them would draw away. The other would catch up.
They accelerated. So did I.
This was wrong, all wrong. We were going way too fast for a track workout. The bend was ahead. Was I imagining it, or was Steele leaning way to the left, toward the rail? And was Sandstorm actually turning his head left?
We were going around the bend when it happened. I'm not sure how things went; all I knew was that one minute, we were still running, and the next, there was a squeal of pain. A few more seconds, and we heard a crunching sound, a shriek of pain, followed by a ground shaking thud.
I couldn't pull up that fast. Through a cloud of dust, I saw a mound of bodies ahead. I tried to swerve to the right, onto the middle of the track. But I could hear another horse pounding up the dirt behind me. We would crash. I swerved back in and tried to jump.
Chaya wasn't cooperating. Just before liftoff, her hands pulled in a lot of rein. Maybe she wanted to bring me to a stop. My head was pulled back along with the reins. I needed to stretch out my neck for the jump. I couldn't.
I jumped anyway. But Chaya was off balance. Her weight was thrown to the right. I twisted in midair, trying to stay upright.
My hoof caught on something. The next thing I knew, the ground was coming up to meet me. I felt Chaya fly off my back.
I fell too. The fourth horse, behind me, saw just in time to sweep past safely, running on the very outside of the track.
I scrambled up as soon as I could. Steele was standing up too, his rider clinging shakily to his mane.
Chaya had gotten up and was running towards us.
Sandstorm was still on the ground, groaning in pain. His hind leg was twisted out in an odd angle. I blew air in his face, worried. His rider, who had jumped clear just in time, was crouching next to him, stroking his head.
Steele was wearing this triumphant look.
I could have killed him right there and then.
The next few seconds were filled with shouts and calls. Someone came up, got hold of my reins, and tried to tug me aside. I fought back, planting my feet. A flashing van came whirring up, and more white-coated humans jumped down from it. They surrounded us. What was happening to Sandstorm? He let out another scream and flailed his front legs, his tail thumping the ground raising another cloud of dust. We could see the whites of his eyes.
I strained closer, dragging whoever was holding on to the reins with me. The bit was digging into the corners of my mouth, but right then, I didn't care.
Pretty soon, we were standing almost beside Sandstorm. He looked up, his eyes wide and rolling in fear. Steele had been ridden a few lengths away. The humans were now crouched around his head. They were doing something. One of them had a …something-that-pricks. He stuck it into Sandstorm's thigh. Sandstorm's bay coat was glistening with sweat. He was heaving. And slowly, slowly, his black tail stopped thumping the ground, his muscles relaxed, his eyes half closed. A white…rectangular?…sheet was brought out. How they loaded him into it I didn't know. The sheet bearing Sandstorm was whisked into the van, which zoomed away. I lifted my head and neighed after it. Then, my head was pulled down. Steele and I were next. The white-coated humans were running their hands up and down our legs, cold, round metal disks were being pressed to our sides, and we were walked to and fro.
I was declared "Fine!" What did "Fine!" mean? I puzzled over this, worried about Sandstorm, and watched as something small and white was pressed against Steele's neck. He didn't even flinch.
I studied him and waited.
Soon, he turned his head and his cold black eyes met my brown ones. His ears threatened to flatten against his head. He plainly saw what had happened, might even have been responsible for it, and yet he did not care?
Heat rushed to my head. I bared my teeth and started for him.
A hand to the muzzle and a pull of the reins stopped me. "Wind!" Chaya's voice was close to my ear. And she wasn't very happy with me. "What do you think you're doing? We have enough injured horses already! Are you going to add two more?" I shook my head, tossed my mane, and tried to tell her in every way I knew that she was wrong about thinking that I started the earlier fight as she led me away from the track.
My anger at Steele was soon lost to worrying about Sandstorm. Would he be alright? I'd seen this happen back in the wild. I'd been a weanling back then, when one of the two-year-olds stepped on a loose stone running down a steep incline, lost his balance, and fell.
That time, it had been the left forefoot of the colt. His ankle had started to swell almost immediately. Fortunately, my mother was nearby at that time. She rushed over, and soon had the sick horse half submerged in the water of a stream. "That's what the humans do when it happens," she'd told me. "I've seen this before. The cold water will help keep down the swelling. We will have to take turns guarding him." And so they did. My mother had taken first watch that night, dozing at the bank of the stream, ready to rear and fight with her hooves any predator that threatened to come near the frightened colt. Our herd stood nearby, ready to come to her aid whenever she called. Over the next moons, members of the herd had voluntarily helped the colt hobble to land for food, back into the water, and stood guard always.
In a new moon, the colt was as good as new. If only they would let us horses do the same. But at that time, that colt's ankle had only swelled. There hadn't been a crunching sound. I was sure that Sandstorm's leg was broken, but still pretty confident that the treatment would work the same miracle.
Back in the paddock, I paced, my stomach churning, to worried to graze. Moon came over and rubbed her nose along my spine. We stood together, whispering ideas, wondering what was happening at the barn where they had taken Sandstorm.
Sir Peppero was turned in a few minutes later. He walked over slowly, his head hanging.
"They say he tried to bite Steele," he mumbled. "Steele pulled away, nearly crashing into the rail. Sandstorm was out of balance. He fell, leaning against Steele, and they went down together. His ankle must have twisted, and with the weight of two horses and two humans, it broke."
We stood in silence.
Moon whuffed one last time in my face and slipped away to tell the other horses. Sir Peppero stood awkwardly for another long moment and turned away too. I resumed pacing.
The humans came for us at dusk. No one spoke or laughed. One by one, we were led to the barn.
Tonight, no one pranced, nipped, or neighed. No one was happy. We filed into our stalls, silent and brooding.
Food was brought. I reached for a mouthful and half-heartedly started chewing. Across the aisle, Moon's silver head bobbed as she tossed her mane.
It took me twice as long to finish the hay. My ears were constantly twitching this way and that, straining to hear of any news about Sandstorm.
I was dozing when somebody came into the barn.
BANG! The barn door slammed shut and someone stomped up to my stall and threw themselves against the stall door. I reached over the partition and whuffed the human.
Chaya. She looked up, water pooling in her eyes and streaming in rivulets down her human cheek. What was she doing? I cocked my head. Where did the water come from? I extended my nose. She started making a human sound. Her shoulders were heaving as she let herself into my stall, threw her arms around my neck, and buried her face in my mane.
"Oh, boy…"Her voice was muffled. "They've got him in a cast, and he was supposed to be okay…" What did that mean? Was that Sandstorm she was talking about? Yeah, maybe it was… "But that's not the problem. He's got the fever now…" What fever? And she was definitely talking about Sandstorm…
"He's fighting it, but he's losing. They're considering putting him down…" Put my best friend down where?
"Wind, do you understand?" She had lifted her face at last and was shaking me. Understand what?
"They're thinking about killing him…"
That I understood. I didn't know the word killing, but I understood what she meant.
What? Did I understand her correctly?
A shiver ran through my body. My mane was soaked with Chaya's tears.
With another sob, she staggered through the stall door, locked it, and started up the aisle. The door wasn't far.
I neighed after her. She didn't turn as the barn door closed with another BANG.
I was left to form my own conclusions.
Sandstorm was in another barn. If I could get out and see him, at least I would know what happened to him.
I leaned over my stall door again. The lock didn't look complicated. The humans undid it all the time without looking anymore. I closed my teeth on it and started to fiddle with the latch.
My mane fell over my eyes. I was aware of Moon watching, wide awake across the aisle.
All night, the latch clinked. But it never budged, and the door didn't move.
I threw my weight against the door in frustration. And tried again.
Dawn came. I gave up and drew back in my stall.
Chaya came. Dick came. Terri came. Other grooms came. Today, same as yesterday evening, the barn was silent.
We horses were silent too.
We went through the grooming, tacking up, and working-out at the track. I didn't concentrate, lost in worry over Sandstorm and whether or not he would become dog food.
Chaya didn't tell me until she had finished walking and cooling me down. Then, she wordlessly led me inside another barn.
My hooves clopped on the stone aisle. Chaya turned and shushed me. "I'm not supposed to be taking you here," she whispered fiercely.
She stopped when we reached the last stall. And there, on the hay, was Sandstorm. He was lying on his side, his bay body gleaming, his black mane and tail straight and not tangled, his eyes closed.
He was going to be okay! The cast was gone, and he looked like he was getting the rest he needed. The broken ankle looked all right too, even though it was wrapped from hock to canon with a white bandage.
Chaya opened the stall door and I pulled her inside eagerly.
Sandstorm! I whuffed in his face happily, careful not to wake him. Behind me, Chaya buried her face in my back, sobbing again.
Why was she crying? I reached behind and lipped her hair reassuringly. Sandstorm was going to be okay! Was she crying tears of joy?
But why was he so still? So still… …so still… what was wrong? He wasn't moving. I leaned closer and pressed my nose to his cheek.
And jumped back almost immediately. His cheek was cold. Cold and stiff…
I pressed his cheek again. He should have woken up by now. Why hadn't he woken up?
He was a sound sleeper…
Chaya sobbed louder.
I ran my nose the entire length of his body. Also stiff, also cold…
Come to mention it, he was very still…and stiff… and cold…
So still…in fact, he wasn't breathing…
Wasn't breathing?!…I pulled back with horror.
Chaya crouched down, sniffling, and peeled back the bandage on Sandstorm's ankle.
The damage was incredible. His skin was open to the bone, with bone splinters sticking out through it. It looked like his foot had snapped in half, and one end of the sharp bone had gone through…
I blanched.
"They were operating on him when it happened," Chaya whispered. "He woke up from the anesthesia and started thrashing. That made the curable wound an irreversible damage. He wouldn't be able to walk, much less run even if he did recover from the fever…"
I tuned her out, running my nose through his body again. She rewrapped the bandage gently.
"Sandstorm wake up," I snorted in his ear, desperation rising in the pit of my stomach.
"Sandstorm!" That was a whinny. He would have at least moved if he had heard me… …or if he could still hear me…
I nipped him. My teeth closed on his neck, and he didn't even flinch or move or jerk or open his eyes to look at me and say, I'm still alive…
I half-reared back, my head spinning. Maybe if I whinnied loud enough, he would wake up…No, I would make sure he woke up… I would stay by his side and nip and whinny and wake him up, and I wouldn't care if he turned deaf because of me, because I would make sure he woke up because he was going to wake up, whether he wanted to or not, because I was going to force him to, because I didn't know what I would do if he never woke up again…
But a small part of me was already saying, No, he's gone… … you can't do anything anymore…
Yes I could, I fought back. He's just still asleep, maybe he's under medicine and won't wake up that easily, but he's going to wake up…he just couldn't be dead…
I threw back my head, took a deep breath, and trumpeted a full scream right into his ear. My eyes started moving, looking, searching for any sign of movement…
Did I imagine it or did his ear twitch? Did his hoof move? Did he half-open his eyes?
Come on Sandstorm, wake up… … …
He didn't.
Chaya's sobs had turned louder still.
Why was she crying like that? Sandstorm wasn't dead, he just wasn't, because he just couldn't be…
I trumpeted again. And again. And again. How many times, I lost count. All I knew was that I had to wake him.
Chaya's arms had gone around my neck again. "Come on, boy," she moaned, tugging at the lead rope. I dug in my feet and refused to budge. Sandstorm was just sleeping…He's gonna wake up soon, and it'll be like old times…
"Let's get out of here.. come on, Wind…he's not going to wake up anymore…not ever again…they injected him this morning…come on Wind!"
Sandstorm will wake up, and he'll grin and say that it had all been a trick, that we're going back to the paddock right now to run and play… I fought harder. Then I'll tell him how much I miss him and to be more careful when running on the track…
"Wind, STOP IT!!"
My ears were ringing. I stopped.
I kept hearing her words all over again. He's not going to wake up ever again… He's not going to wake up ever again… He's not going to wake up ever again…
My head started spinning faster. Sandstorm wasn't going to wake up…Sandstorm is dead…Sandstorm was gone forever…
Wood splintered as my hooves flew against the stall door. I burst out of the stall, flew down the aisle, and rushed out through the open barn door into the yard, Chaya clinging to my mane.
No he isn't…he's still here…he's still alive…I whirled, looking for an escape. I had to get away from it all… had to get away…
Grooms and horses were staring. I didn't care.
There! To the right. An opening. I shot through, running.
"Wind!" Chaya gasped. She was hanging on by mere handfuls of hair. I slowed down and allowed her to swing herself up on my back.
We jogged back to the paddock, not to the barn. Chaya slid off and shut the paddock gate behind me. I whirled and began circling the paddock, galloping.
No…Sandstorm isn't dead…He's still alive, waiting for me…He's just in the other field…we'll whuff faces again, and talk about how to get Steele in trouble…
Go right. Run…Run…Run..
He's dead…he's gone..you can't do anything anymore… no he's not dead, he's just sleeping…a very deep sleep…
Go left, run, run, keep on running…
Stop that…stop believing things that can't happen anyway…
I went faster. The trees and grass blended into a line of green.
Sandstorm is ALIVE….he can't be dead…he's just over in that other barn…pretty soon he'll be back here, running with me… if he's alive, why was he so still? How come he didn't wake up when you called him?
Faster, faster…
What will I do if Sandstorm is dead? Who will stick by my side? Of course he's still alive…No he can't be…Maybe you just didn't call him loud enough…
FASTER, FASTER…
"Spirit!"
What about Steele? Can't he feel any remorse? Is he –
"SPIRIT!"
–a cold-blooded killer? Will he do the same to me? …Is someone calling me?
I slowed. Oh Sandstorm, my friend, my brother –
"SPIRIT!"
Yes, someone was calling me. Someone was calling me my real name.
I slid to a stop, panting, my flanks streaming with sweat.
A silver shape stood by the fence. Moon.
"I'm sorry." So she knew. We stood silently by the fence. "I'm really, really, so sorry," she whickered again.
Behind her, one by one, the other horses were led in from their morning workouts. Their coats were gleaming. They flashed their tails and began grazing. Steele wasn't among them.
Didn't they have a care in the world? Didn't they know…
And suddenly, I was wide awake, as if I was seeing all the grass and the trees and the flowers for the first time. Everything was fine, and the sun was shining, and it was the same as the home I'd known for who-knows-how-many-moons, but at the same time, it all looked different without Sandstorm…
Night came. I couldn't sleep. My furious running had been reduced to pacing. Soon, I'd worn down a path around the paddock.
Morning came. I couldn't concentrate on workouts. My times were some of the poorest I'd ever had. Sims looked jubilant.
The next few moons passed in a whirl.
Night.
Morning.
Everywhere I went, every single move I made, I was reminded of Sandstorm. By now, the other horses knew. And thankfully, they left me alone.
I brooded, becoming irritable and short-tempered. Before, my nips and bites had been for fun. Now, I was snapping everywhere. Even Sir Peppero left me alone.
Day.
The grief was numbing.
Night.
I couldn't sleep. It was as if, when Sandstorm went, he had taken a part of me with him.
And day. This had to stop. From the moment I'd last seen Sandstorm, I hadn't slept a wink. I'd dozed, napped, but never really slept, jerking awake at every little sound. I was becoming tired.
As a result, I wasn't finishing my feed, and my general performance flopped. When I was in the stable stall, I paced. If I was in the paddock, I trotted, or cantered. Endlessly.
Today was no different. I couldn't live like this, could I? For the rest of my life…
I whirled, cantered the paddock, turned and went out in a straight out run. The fence was high…but I could still try…
I bounded over the fence, landing with a gentle thud on the other side.
Moon's head shot up from where she had been grazing. She looked alarmed. Then she smiled. I lipped her mane and slowly made my way to the 'woods'. It had been a while since I'd been there, and I needed quiet and a place to think.
Night came. I was still in the woods. Everything just kept going around and around in circles in my head. I stood for hours and watched the brook ripple and flow and wondered why it had to happen to Sandstorm. Why not me? Why not anybody else? He had been so kind, and so nice to me when I first came here…
A twig snapped. In the wild, I would have whirled to face whoever it was immediately, but this was different.
"Spirit?" Moon. Moon had come.
She clopped over beside me and together, we watched the moon dancing on the water surface.
Moon knew. As my track partner, as the one who usually ran with me in the mornings, she knew of slow times at the track, of unfinished feed, of sleepless nights, of everything.
She would understand.
"Why did it have to happen to him?" Why was I asking her out loud? Would she know the answer? Maybe she would…
"I don't know." Turns out she didn't…
"Why him? It could have been me. Or somebody else. Or anybody else. He was so nice. And he got dragged into it all because of me. Steele never hated him. Steele was targeting me, not him. What did Sandstorm have to do with Steele?" Questions I had asked myself thousands of times.
My head drooped.
"Sandstorm wouldn't have wanted it this way."
"How would he have wanted it?"
She turned to look at me. "He would have wanted you to go on with your life, not live like this."
Silence.
"How do you know?"
"I just know."
That didn't help much.
"Thanks anyway."
More silence. What happened to the earlier times, when I would crack a joke, she would make up a wisecrack, and we would laugh together until our stomachs hurt?
Now, we were reduced to silence.
"Thanks," I repeated.
Moon was studying me. She gave my mane a gentle tug and turned to go.
"Go to sleep, Spirit."
Sandstorm wouldn't have wanted it this way…Sandstorm wouldn't have wanted it this way…He would have wanted you to get on with your life…get on with your life…wanted it this way… gone forever…won't ever wake again…wanted it this way…get on with your life… go to sleep Spirit…to sleep Spirit… wanted it this way…gone forever…sleep, Spirit…
Moon. Sandstorm. Chaya. Their voices were swirling in my head, the words ringing in my ears in an endless train, their echoes going round and around, and around…
Stop. I couldn't make them stop.
Gone forever…won't wake again…don't live like this…
Round and round…
Live your life… go to sleep… wanted it this way…
So tired…just so tired…
Sandstorm wouldn't have wanted it… get on with your life…
My eyelids were drooping, my knees swaying…
Go to sleep, Spirit…he's gone forever…wanted it this way…
Very tired…so sleepy…very sleepy…
Go to sleep, Spirit…sleep Spirit…gone… forever…sleep…
My eyes closed.
Sleep…
I slept.
And I dreamed. In my dream, the stallion came again. The black stallion. The black stallion. I was restless. I couldn't sleep in my dream. I was so tired, very tired, and also so cold I was shivering, and I couldn't sleep. I asked him, Why did this happen to Sandstorm? He didn't answer me. Why? I persisted. He nickered, reached over, and whuffed in my face. His warm breath came out as a mist in the cold night air, but when it reached my face, it was still hot. There was a tingling feeling left, a tingling which spread over until my whole body was bathed in warmth.
Sleep…
And in my dream, I fell asleep.