"Tell us, Uncle Bree!"
"Tell us!"
"Please?"
The former warhorse opened one eye and looked at the three foals—all the same age, and really, he was only related to one of them, but they'd all adopted the habit of calling this great hero Uncle Bree [and it was Shasta's—Prince Cor's fault that name had caught on, and they all demanded the rights respectively.
"I'm tired."
"But we've never heard!"
Bree opened both eyes at that. "I've told all my tales many times," he snorted. "Be off with you."
"There's one story we haven't heard," the only filly said, tossing her brown mane and stepping a little closer. "How did you get to Calormen?"
Bree stopped chewing. A flash of green hills, tall trees, and then desert sand—he'd wandered too far. He'd been so absorbed in exploring, he'd never given the hoofbeats much thought, not till the rope tightened round his neck and he'd reared—
"That's not a story for children," he said, stamping one hoof. "Go home with you!"
A/N: I know it's not much, but I was up at 4am, I've taken a train and two planes, and I wrote three thousand words for the amnesty prompt that took over. I'm mentally done. Sorry!
Prompt 13: The Horse and His Boy contains a few kidnappings which were never described in detail (Hwin, Bree, and Cor), pick one to write about. Or an unrelated kidnapping, if you prefer.