A/N: Ok, chapter two for you peeps.
I cried. It was dark and cold. There were loud noises all around me. Mommy told me not to worry, that it would be all right. But I could hear the terror in her voice. We were still in the trailer. It had been more than twelve hours, and I would have given anything to be back home. We didn't even know where we were or what time of day it was, except that it was freezing. We didn't have any room to move at all. We only stopped once, to pick up more horses. Three draft mares and a flea-bitten grey gelding. When the truck started up again one of the draft mares lost her balance and fell on top of me. My mommy kicked and bit her, trying to get her to move. But we were so crowded that the mare could barely step back. I managed to move forward enough to avoid any more collisions.
Finally, we stopped. It was still cold, but then I suppose there must have been a frost the night before. The men opened the trailer door. It was the first real light I had seen for more than a day. The other horses eagerly got out of the trailer; in fact I was almost trampled by the draft mare that had almost crushed me. My mommy wouldn't let me leave the trailer until all our herd mates were out. On reflection, I think keeping me in the back may have saved my life. As soon as my eyes had adjusted to the bright light I panicked. We were in a pen, crowded together worse than we had been at the auction. I could smell blood in the air and every so often a horse screamed. My mommy whinnied for my sire, but the men pushed him away from us.
"Shut up, horse," a tall man snapped. My sire reared and kicked out at him. The man swore loudly and slapped my sire with a whip. Startled, the mighty stallion backed off. The grey gelding snorted in a dignified manner.
"I pity you, I truly do," he said in a thick British accent. My mother turned her head to stare at him.
"Why?" she asked in a dry voice. The gelding snorted again.
"Obviously you aren't from around here. If you were," he added, "you would be fighting harder or just standing around, not something in between." He let out a depressed sigh and yawned.
"Umm, where are we exactly?" I ventured in a tentative tone. The gelding looked at me sharply.
"I'm not sure you're old enough to hear the answer to that question," he said while giving my mommy an enquiring look. She nodded reluctantly.
"Well, here they…kill horses and ponies for our meat. Foolish humans," he said quietly. I stared at him, utterly stunned. My mommy whinnied in a frightened manner and looked beseechingly at the men. They ignored her.
"How'd you get here?" I asked. The gelding was silent for a few moments.
"Well, it's a long story. I suppose it began when I was born. Oh, such a fine place I was born in! Near London, I believe. I'm half cob, half appaloosa. Both of my parents were stars of the hunter-jumper world," he said, his eyes glazing over as he stared wistfully into the distance, "But not all good things last. The stable where I was trained burned down, taking my sire with it. Terrible tragedy. Broke my owner's heart. He had to sell all of us. I was only two at the time. Anyway, a splendid fellow bought me, truly splendid fellow. He trained me to jump, and I even did some dressage for a few years. Poor chap died in a car crash not four years after he bought me. I was shipped over to this blasted country, pardon me," he added as my mother began to say something in indignant anger at our country being called "blasted", "I changed hands several times. I didn't do too badly at those hunter shows. Won myself at least a dozen blue ribbons. But, as is the way of the world, I got old. I'm twenty-six, if you can believe that. Twenty-six! People stopped riding me, and they used me as a stud for a year or so. None of my foals did well, poor kids. They gelded me and put me out to pasture. Eventually I was sold here." He stopped talking and gave me a sad look with those large brown eyes of his.
"You're much too young to be here already. I, well, I lived a good long life. Though I didn't want it to end like this. I really wouldn't have minded if I had just lived out my life in peace, and died in my sleep. But for many of us, humans won't let us have peace, not in this life. Not in this life."
A week later we were still in that God forsaken place. We didn't have food or water. The horses in front of us gradually were led into a pen. I never watched any of them die, it hurt me too much. But I did hear them. The screams will live with me until I die. The old gelding was led off one day. He gave us both a curt nod as he was led into the "kill box". He never made a sound.
A/N: Ok, depressing, I know. Next chapter I advise the faint of heart and anyone under ten to skip. It's gonna get pretty darn ugly. Not for those who are too young to handle it.