SpitFire
SpitFire blinked his eyes as he looked out over the rolling hills of green grass. He was only a colt, a buckskin paint. He heard a snort as his mother walked over. He looked up at her painted body. His mother was the lead mare of the Cimarron Herd. His father? Spirit was his father. The magnificent buckskin stallion trotted over. SpitFire wondered if he would ever measure up to his father's reputation. Spirit nuzzled Rain and looked down at SpitFire. "You are growing up to be a fine stallion, my son." Spirit said. SpitFire beamed under the compliment. Rain and Spirit wondered off to munch grass together. Long ago SpitFire had stopped depending on Rain. He trotted off, down to marvel at the herd. He was overwhelmed to know he would protect the herd some day.
A black filly caught his eye. She was munching grass peacefully. She looked up and smiled. SpitFire walked over to her.
"Hi." He neighed. The filly gently replied, "Hi, SpitFire." SpitFire felt nervous all of the sudden. "Uh, what's your name?" he asked. The black filly tossed her head. "Me? I am Black Silk. But I prefer Silk." She lowered her neck back down to pull up some grass. SpitFire wasn't sure if he should let her eat or keep talking. Then another colt padded over. SpitFire groaned, it was Spark. Spark neighed, "Hey Silk is this foal bothering you?" SpitFire flattened his ears. Spark always made fun of him. Silk snorted, "Not really. But you on the other hand are." Spark snorted and trotted away.
SpitFire slipped away angrily. When he became leader he was going to kick that colt out of the herd. He was so ignorant.
SpitFire gulped down some water before hearing hoof beats from behind. He turned to see Spark galloping up. He skidded beside him. "You don't have a chance with Silk!" he neighed. SpitFire retorted, "What makes you think that you do?" Spark stood up straight and tall. "Because, my father is a real leader. He leads the canyon herd. My mother left though." SpitFire saw his chance for a remark, "She was probably running away from you when you were born." Spark flattened his ears and reared up.
SpitFire backed away. No, what am I doing? A leader doesn't give up without a fight! He charged forward as Spark's hooves came back to earth. Spark was ready, he reared up again and when SpitFire came in range he slammed his hooves back down and into his shoulder. SpitFire stumbled in pain. He snorted and then regained his balance. But his injury was too much. He limped a few steps before stopping. "Ha! What type of herd do you ever expect to lead? A bunch of human horses no doubt." Spark whinnied. He galloped off back towards the herd. SpitFire angrily limped back as well.
Rain neighed worriedly when she saw him limping forward. She bolted over to him. "SpitFire, what happened?" SpitFire wasn't going to say. Then, if Spirit got on to Spark, he would be called a foal, and be made fun of for not fighting his own battles. "I tripped by the river. I'll be okay soon mom." Rain nuzzled him protectively. SpitFire limped over to a patch of tall grass and painfully laid down. He knew it was dangerous for an injured horse to lie down, but he didn't care. He just wanted to forget about Spark.
