Disclaimer: I don't own the Black.
A/N: I'm really, really, REALLY sorry for not updating for so long and I'm not making any more excuses(but in case you want to know: I went to China on a 50-day study tour, where all the computers are in Chinese :-)…
As always, arigato gozaymashta, xie xie for your support, and please read and review!!
Chapter 23
Moon and I went north, towards the hidden valley. We clopped down from the high mesas and I showed her our old meadow. Then, we visited with Thunder and his fillies for a week or two, resting and regaining our strength and health (or, getting fat and lazy, as Moon called it, which was all we really did; sleep, eat, chat, run, sleep, eat, chat, run), who hadn't gone South for the winter.
Two weeks later, we said our goodbyes, promised to come again soon, and then I was leading Moon up the slopes of Three Peak.
I took her to every place I went before; we climbed the ledge and I showed her the view of all the Lowlands; we made our way through the winding mountain passes and trails, drank at cold mountain brooks, and just went anywhere we wanted.
I didn't take her to Sunrise Valley (which was what I was calling Golden's little bowl-shaped valley) first; instead, we went over the rim of the Three Peak mountain ranges, down, down to the plains on the other side, wandering about for several weeks, checking out the place.
I didn't take Moon to Sunrise Valley at first because I wanted to save it for last.
Good things, beautiful things should always be left for the last.
So, I waited, waited till spring was on it's way, waited till the timing was perfect. Then, I led her to the Ibex, showed her how to jump down from the Ram's Head, unto the shelf, showed her the tiny hidden trail that cut through the tall cliffs with the stumpy trees and spiky bushes growing along the way; we spent the night in the cave I'd stayed before, then, when I was sure of the day, I woke her up early. She followed me out the cave mouth, across the valley with her eyes closed(which was what I'd insisted on), up, up the waterfall on the other side till we stood over it.
I waited till sunrise, when the sun spread it's rays all along the horizon, leaving the sky patches if color mixed with glorious color. Then I told her to open her eyes.
Moon's gasp told me it had been worth it after all.
"This is all yours?"
"Everything. That was why I liked it so much–you get spectacular sunrises and sunsets."
"Everything here…"
I grinned. She did like it.
As time passed, I slowly gathered a herd of six mares, going for quality rather than quantity. These mares were good mares, beautiful, yet with sharp minds, able to take care of themselves. Moon exhibited many qualities of an excellent lead mare–calm, following my instructions to the letter, able to command respect and obedience, yet not proud or arrogant or mean, able to see to the safety of the herd.
Of course(after a bit of training,) she became lead mare!
I kept my herd small; there would be foals next year, and I didn't want this beautiful little place to become over-populated.
And Moon got to meet Golden at last; I introduced them one fine summer day when I was sure the other five mares were safe in the Valley; we sneaked south for a day.
By mid-summer, the mares were all in foal. That autumn, I fought and won a meadow of our own down South, a place we could all migrate to when the weather got cold.
If I said that we all lived happily ever after without any interference from humans, without renegade stallions trying to steal my mares, without cougars slinking around and hoping for a quick snack (and getting a "Go away! This is not the canteen!" kick from said snack's protective mother), I would really be lying. In reality, we had to stay hidden in my little valley every summer, with Moon keeping an eye on the mares and foals while I scouted the surrounding mountains and plains for humans, going South with everybody else during winter. And the humans came often, now searching for what they called "the horses who ran free", which translates into Moon and me. Other times, the humans were just regular humans who came along every year to round up mustangs so the area wouldn't get over-populated.
We learned later that when entire herds are caught, some of the horses are released back into the wild. The humans doing that were from someplace called the BLM, and they did it every year. We learned to show up at the same time the helicopters (whirly, twirly metal birds that can make you deaf) did, to put in an appearance then vanish into thin air, because if we didn't, the BLM humans would go chasing us all over the mountains on horseback for weeks on end, just to prove that we existed and our numbers weren't growing too fast, giving the mares headaches and the foals wonderful opportunities to exercise their legs.
So, to keep things short, we show up once a year down in the Lowlands, say "Hi!" and "Bye!", then disappear for the rest of the year.
My foals turned out to be some of the fastest in the land. In the years after, they would come to be known as "horses who fly with the eagle and run with the wind." But one birth, one particular foal was specially looked forward to.
Because it was Moon's foal.
One spring night nearing dawn(our first spring, my second spring with Moon), when it wasn't quite summer yet and we were in Sunrise Valley, my eyes flew open for no reason at all. I lifted my head and automatically scanned the herd. So far, five foals had been born, and the day before, the oldest was already running and cavorting in the meadow, spinning and whirling and laughing as its' mother galloped after it, neighing frantically for it to return to her side. It wouldn't be long before it would have playmates who were bold enough to play.
Yes, they were all here – one, two, three, four, five of them, foals dozing peacefully, curled up in the moonlight.
No, wait. Five mares. Five smooth, sleek, mares. I counted again.
Five mares. But none of them with a pale, silver coat shining in the moonlight.
Moon was missing.
I felt fear and pushed it away. Moon was a strong mare, and as heavily in foal as she was, she would still be able to take care of herself.
But it wasn't like her to just go away without telling someone first, unless it was something really urgent.
The niggling fear remained. I took one last look at my sleeping herd and began my search.
What could have gotten her? Certainly not humans. Another stallion wouldn't have whisked her away without a challenge first.
Not that any other stallion knew of this place.
A cougar? A snake? But then, we would have heard her fighting. And she couldn't just disappear into thin air.
I combed the valley; she wasn't there. So, I climbed to the top of the basin and began circling it with renewed urgency.
It didn't take me long to find her. She was lying in a small clearing in the fringe of trees beside the top of the waterfall, looking tired but happy, her pearly mane sticking to her neck.
I moved forward and snuffled her face, puzzled, yet feeling intense relief.
She looked up at me with half-closed dreamy eyes. "So sorry you had to come looking for me…we would have gone back by sunrise…"
My long ragged mane bounced as I bobbed my head. "Just tell me first next time, okay? So we'll know–"
Then, I caught the last phrase.
"We?"
Whumph!
Something small and soft hit me round the ribs. I spun around and saw a tiny silver foal prancing away happily, fluffy tail frisking through the air. It backed up to the edge of the clearing and stood, boldly defiant, daring me to approach.
I took a step closer, grin starting.
My spirited daughter attempted a running leap–and flew head over heels, landing on the grass.
I laughed, reminded of myself when I was her age, though she was much, much bolder, and much, much smaller.
Moon started up, her amused expression changing to one of concern.
I blocked her, still grinning. Obviously, she'd never seen a newborn foal before.
"But she's–!"
"She'll be fine," I nickered firmly. "Watch."
The little foal had flipped itself the right way and was blowing hard through its nose. In a few seconds, it got up and began to shuffle forward–on its knees.
We watched as the silver filly leapt to her feet and began to race around us in circles.
"See?"
Moon grinned in relief and rose to her feet. The little filly shot under our forelegs and began rubbing her head against Moon's ribs.
I took a step back to examine her.
She was small and delicate, and exquisite, from her sculpted head down to her tiny, dainty hooves; her coat a creamy silver, like Moon, only a shade lighter.
A living likeness. A physical replica of her mother, and in some ways, even more beautiful.
Yet I could see traces of me in her too. The high tail carriage. Her well-set neck.
And more, more traits she had that neither of us possessed.
Her deep, dark, beautiful eyes, eyes that could look into a horse's soul.
Where did she get those eyes of hers?
Those quick nimble hooves that were now dancing. The fire flaming and burning and running in her blood, and with it, the fierce desire to be independent.
The fierce desire to stay free.
This tiny little silver foal was going to show the world lots.
A/N: I know this is a short chapter–one half of previous short chapters–I promise there'll be a longer one coming next.
Thank you for the time you took to read this story, and please don't forget to review!!