My earliest memory is of a warm stable, the dawn light breaking in over the door. My mother stood over me protectively and I was always hungry. I can't remember my first steps, but I know that I had consistently high steps in my gait, held up with pride of my good breeding.

My mother and father were well known on ranch where I was born, they were the perfect pair, although I had three or four half siblings. That is the way of man, choosing themselves what they want to be bred. I understood from an early age that one day I was to be a mount for an important human.

My parents gave me the best start in life. My mother was a dark bay, and I was the last of her children. At the grand age of 20, the dark points of her coat were beginning to fade into a dull grey. She was lean and small, the complete opposite of my father, who stood at over 17 hands and was covered in strong muscles, and had a rich chestnut coat, almost red. I inherited my sorrel colour from him, my mane and tail slightly lighter than my body.

I was born in the late spring and a number of foals were already in the paddock when I was let out for the first time. I raced up and down the field with them, always winning despite being smaller and less experienced. Because of my natural born skills and my praised blood, a lot of the mares turned away from me straight away. I may have been son of the two most respected horses on the farm, but I had yet to earn the same respect.

Because of how they felt, the mares discouraged their colts playing with me. I got a whole lot lonlier since the fillies rarely rose to the challenge of a gallop. My mother argued with the other mothers because of it, and she lost a great number of friends through the process, but to her, being a mother meant more. I felt lucky to have her.

On the occassion that a filly would play with me, I did whatever she wanted, anything to have a friend. One young female I met would change my life forever. Her name was Maralyn. Silver Bay and utterly beautiful. I fell for her straight away, of course, and she stuck with me most of my childhood. I gave up on the other foals after a while, it was only her that I wanted to be with.

When my fluffy baby fur started to molt my darker, brown coat shoed through. My mane thickened and became lighter as my hooves became harder and turned light grey. I looked more handsome once I looked less gangly on my legs. At two years old my mother would be taken for training in the arena and I would watch, transfixed, as she leapt the jumps. As we got older, the jumps got smaller for her and she stiffened up. She no longer wanted to be ridden, instead she wanted to stay with me. At the time I was ignorant to what parenthood could be like, and I didn't appriciate what being her last foal meant. It was her last chance to mother something. Looking back on it, I wish I had been less selfish.

My halter training began in the middle of my second year. The humans would come and catch me in the morning, and then I would be taken into the arena for lunging and jumping. There were many humans that lived on the ranch, but the three that I remember most are Speedy, Bear and Boss. Speedy was skinny and could get a horse to run faster than it ever thought possible. Some would mistake his youth for inexperience, but we horses knew better than that.

Bear was heavy and unconfident in the saddle, but he was the best of the three when it came to grooming and feeding. He often slipped me a carrot and added extra grain to my food. He understood how horses fear the unknown, probably because he could find likenesses from himself in our kind. He owned four horses on the ranch, and since one of the mares was Maralyn's mother, he owned my friend too.

Finally there was Boss, my owner. He was the oldest and roughest of the three men. He bred my parents and he also bred me, and for that simple reason he believed he could control me. But my mother was old and weak and I was still small, so he was only interested in my father's strength. So Speedy took care of me and mother.

When I turned three I was fitted with a saddle and bridle and ridden by Speedy. He trained me the gaits, jumping, everything. I enjoyed galloping, it reminded me of racing when I was tiny, but the best thing about my training was that Maralyn was in the arena with me. Bear wouldn't ride her until she was fully gown, but he had a teenage son who trained with her.

Over the years of being around humans I learnt to understand them from both body language and tone. I only began picking up exact words when I was almost finished with gait training. Me and Mary (that was my short name for her) had been let out into the pasture to graze. Bear had rubbed us down with cold water and we had been left to dry in the summer afternoon. The man stayed at the fence with his son and I heard them talking. To put it simply, the man was going to give Mary to his son as a gift. The boy was going to join the army in a few years and his father felt he deserved the best horse he could get.

I stood close to Maralyn from that day. If anyone took her away without me I would tag along and snap if they tried to push me away. Soon it was established that we couldn't be separated. She laughed at my attitude and got me to break into a smile every time. Her charms and joyful spirit made me envy her, she was so perfect. I had the physical standard that the humans wanted, but no doubt that if she was human they would all be attracted to her. Everyone who came near to her were happy.

One evening, when the sun was setting, we were standing alone in the field. I was daydreaming, making up the ideal life for myself. Me and Maralyn would stay on the ranch until we were old grey nags and be together forever. I knew at the age of four that she was the one I wanted to be with. My parents were the perfect match and loved each other. I wanted that to be me and Mary. I even pictured our foals, a bay and a chestnut. Everything would be wonderful. but at that nieve age I could never have anticipated what would unfold.

The humans had a baby on the way.

Speedy and his wife were excited and grinning for weeks, everyone else joining in, even the horses. I said I was looking forward to it, since I had never seen a baby human before. The other horses smirked at this, and I asked what was so funny.

They told me that horses like me and Maralyn were trained at a young age to be sold on. The money the humans would earn from selling we would cover the cost of the newborn's bed and food. My hopes were smashed. I didn't want to leave. I wanted to stay here forever with Mary and live life my parents did. It just wasn't fair.

I walked over to Mary, head low and submissive. She picked up the sound of my hooves and came over to greet me, silver mane bouncing in the sunlight. I told her what I had learned. When I had finshed talking she rubbed my neck to comfort me and told me not to worry about it. If it happened, it happened. I took those words as my motto for the rest of my life.

We made a solemn promise that we would never be separated that afternoon. Wind could blow and the raincould fall, but we would always be together. We stood together until the humans collected us and put us in the farthest stalls in the barn. That building was gigantic, it's roof seemed to stretch up forever. My stall was next to Maralyn's and we leant on the wall that came between us until we fell asleep.

I could smell the smoke first. When my eyes blinked me awake they watered and stung. I could feel the heat on my back and there was a glow around the corner. I realised what it was and began to kick at the walls frantically for attention. I woke some of the other horses up and soon we were all neighing - screaming - to be heard by the humans.

Smoke began to fill our lungs as the doors were flung open and we were led outside. They started with the horses nearest the doors and took them out in twos, By the time they got to me and my mother the flames had advanced almost to our stable doors. I I was dragged blindly out of the burning sturcture, I couldn't see Maralyn anywhere outside.

That was when I realised that there were thirteen horses. I lunged to go back for her, but I stopped dead at the door. Flames were bursting out, trying to grab at me. I forgot her for a moment as I went wild with fear. A man caught me while two others tried to get to her but the flames were already consuming the barn. I faintly heard her neighing from inside, and it grew weaker but all the more desparate, and worse still, more painful. I couldn't bear it, but I was still held fast.

Eventually all that could be heard was the shout of the men and she crackle of the fire, and I knew she was gone. In an instant, the most important being in the entire world had left me and nothing could bring her back.

We were all kept in the paddock while the barn's remains were torn down and a new stables was built. I heard that the new design involved a yard instead of a full building, with arches leading to both the ranch exit and the fields. I payed little attention to this though, and simply mourned over Mary. Her parents were unconsolable, but apart from us, no one seemed to give her a second thought after a day or two and just moved on. I refused to talk to anyone, and was glad to be taken out to train. But I missed her greatly when I worked in the arena alone, and the practise was hard going since we didn't have to wait our turn.

The days were counted down until I was to be sold. I was trained for carrying weight, endurance and having shots fired around me. Eventually, I stood alone in the meadow one night, gazing up at the stars, wondering if Maralyn was watching me, when my father approached me.

He gave me a pep-talk, he told me that he and mother were going to miss me dearly and that Maralyn's parents were sad to see you go too since I was so close to their daughter. He said that I would make a fine steed, and that the key to survive was to trust your rider and help them to trust you. In battle, if your legs say run, go in the direction the human wants you to go. Balance the control, behave and above all respect humans, and if the man was pure enough, he would do the same for horses.

The next moring I was saddled and fed for the journey to the camp. I didn't say any last goodbyes, it hurt too much, and if I was going to survive the wrath of the cavelry I had to avoid all weaknesses. Bear rode me and Boss came along for the negotiations since Speedy decided to stay at home with his wife. We left the ranch - my birthplace - in a canter, and by noon we were heading for the desert.

We stopped under the last piece of shade that was visable to collect water and have a meal. Boss's horse was a Grullo gelding who kept quiet and didn't talk to me. Either he didn't want to upset me or he just wasn't interested. I grazed on the lush, thick grass for one last time, knowing that I wouldn't have it so good out in the dusty plains, and then we rode on.

Two days of hard riding through the desert toughened me up for the army. It was like my final training, seeing how far I could go without food or water. The men carried their own but couldn't really spare us any because the containers they used made it difficult for us to get to the cooling liquid. By the late morning of the second day I spotted a camp in the distance. Only part of it's fence was complete, the rest of it was still being consturcted. I gazed at it in awe as I was led through a gigantic doorway and into the cavalry base.

Horses marched in perfect syncrinisation and the men displayed the highest respect for their seniors and higher ranked officers. I was taken straight to an open area with a furnace nearby and was tied to two posts. A large man approached, who had a remarkable resembalence of Boss. I realised that they were brothers and the two exchanged no words or even glances.

Bear was handed some silver and gold and an old horse was saddled for him to ride home. They intended to shoot and eat the thing as soon as they got back to the ranch and I wondered if that would be me one day, old and grey, weak in the legs and useless for work.

But not today. The tough man, who I later overheard being called Murphy, started clipping my mane and tail. He picked out my hooves and gave them shoes, as well as grooming me. The worst part was the branding. Murphy left for a few minutes then came back carrying a red hot pole with a shape on the end. I panicked, pulling at my ropes but I couldn't break free. I began to squeal for my mother, forgetting just how far away from her I was. I saw him come to my shoulder and with one rough, fast shove of his arm he thrusted the iron onto my skin.

I was sore for days after that, but I was taken straight into training. I was fitted with tack, my comfortable western saddle was thrown onto a pile for trading, and I was given a new bit - cold and sharp in my mouth - and for the first time I was ridden with spurs. My rider was a tall man, a good rider but not a kind one. I felt his whip touch my hindquaters several times in my first half hour of work, even though I did exactly what I was trained to do. He kept the reins short and the girth tight. I could hardly breathe.

He continued to ride me for three weeks, until a stableboy found sores on my back and belly from the saddle. My mouth had also began to bleed from the harshness of his hands, and the hairs on my hips we thinned from the hitting. The man was given a new horse to torment whilst I earned a recuperation leave in my first month. When I came back into work I was given a new rider, and I later learned that my first one had been killed in a battle on another horse, who, luckily, survived.

This new rider wasn' t the best around, but he was a huge step up from the one before. His name was Private Birk, he was young and nervous but still put in his fair share of effort when we rode together. He didn't ride without a crop and spurs, though, simply because that was what he was used to. But he merely tapped me on the sides and I can never remember a time that he hit me. It was him that turned me into a warhorse, our trust in each other reached no limits, and we spent lots of time together.

For one long, kind year he was my soldier. We learnt our roles together and built our skills up as a team. But we were finally ready for battle. The regiment was sent off in a train and we emerged near a thick forest. I knew that my men were at war with another type of human, but I had never seen bloodshed in the name of land, honor and fortune. It was hell for me when the two forces clashed. Men and horses fell together. I was surprised to see the enemy on horseback too, but without all the uncomforatble tack that I was used to. Birk shot many men, each time the gun fired I spooked a little, but as any good rider he was one step ahead of me and I felt a reassuring hand on my neck immeadiately each time.

I don't remember many things about my first fight, other than it was terrible. I saw no logic at the time, and later the beliefs of the army were drilled into my head each time a battle plan was created. It was what the leaders wanted - we jsut ahd to follow orders. So I became like man, I was just another soldier, just another number, ready to be picked off by fate at any time. And fate was in store for Birk.

A soldier had raised his gun to shoot a Native, but one of their horses knocked into him and the shot went in the wrong direction. I felt Birk sag and fall off my back. I saw his body on the floor, lifeless, just a shell of the one human I could really trust with my life. So I ran. I bolted from the scene, deep into the forest. A great number of horses went loose that day, including a few of the village's. We were rounded up over the week and taken back to camp, where the newcomers were trained.

I had lost my family, my love and my human. My heart was harded to the harsh blade of war and I grew detatched from everyone around me. I held a strong bond with a few other stallions, but they were it. They were all that was left of my community.

Months and riders passed, and eventually I was promoted to the colonel's horse. He was a tough rider, he used his crop and spurs often and was heavy on the reins, but I did as I was told. I would ride either at the front or back of the pack and have the luxury lifestyle that all captive horses dream of. I trained less and had more food and pasture time. The other stallions eventually grew tired of me, even though I never lorded my position over them. I guessed immeadiately that they were jealous, and they ahd every right to be. They had been there longer and had more experience. I sometimes wished that I was still an average mount for some green Private, but fate was fate. Being the colonel's horse was as much my destiny as the chance that I would be killed the next day. What would happen would happen.

Another piece of fate that I would never escape from was Spirit. The golden stallion ruled my life from my seventh year of the cavalry and onwards. I saw him being dragged in one morning by some soldiers and throwing himself about, tryign to release their grip. The colonel was riding me while he watched the procession and he fired a shot to get the stallion's attention. I didn't flinch at all.

He was bold and some would say brave. I agree now, but back then the only other word that came to mind was stubborn. He refused to be tamed. He put Murphy through hell and back, the poor man didn't know what had hit him! Various men tried to ride him - all were thrown. The buckskin was tied to the post and left for three days, then I watched in disgust as the colonel rode him.

The man was ahead of the horse. Nothing that the Mustang did could throw my rider. I was proud in a way, since I had the privalige of being the mount of such a good horseman. But I put the emotion to the back of my mind, emotions would only hurt me later. I saw the horse give up and be walked around the arena while the colonel gave one of his disaplining speeches. I felt my eyes close slightly, he had never been an interesting talker I had to admit.

Suddenly I noticed that there was a Native boy tied to the second post. I hadn't seen him earlier, but he shared something with that stallion, I could tell that he knew the capabilities of such an animal. I recognised him as one of the men from the village we had attacked a few months ago. But I couldn't think of what eh was doing there.

Spirit had grabbed the reins, broken off the saddle and thrown the colonel through the air in a moment. I froze with fear, only knowing too well that he had pushed the boundary. I prepared myself for the worst, when the stupid brutes in the other stables began neighing, praising him. I ordered them to be quiet for the Mustang's sake but they carried on whinnying. By now the colonel had a gun pointing at the stallion's head and the ignorant beast didn't know it would kill him. Again, things hapened so quickly that they are hard to remember. The Native boy shoved the gun so it shot the floor and rode the stallion away, throwing various soldiers about and grabbing a gun.

I watched, stunned, as the horse galloped along the stables and the boy shoot off the lock to all our huts. The others made a run for it, and I knew that they would be rounded up far too easily, and if they did get away they would not know how to survive the wild. So I stayed put, out of a mixture of loyalty, respect and obidience. Murphy tried to close the gates but Spirit knocked him down, then leapt over him and into freedom, the rest of the cavalry following behind.

I walked out of my stall and stared at the camp. Dust was settling from the hundreds of thundering hooves and there was an eerie silence about the place. It felt empty without the other horses. Inside I began to panic - I had never been left alone before, there had always been another horse for me to stand by. I needed the others, and they were somewhere out there, roaming the West.

Over the next weeks a mission began to retrieve the lost stock. I was ridden by the colonel to collect a group that had been wrangled in a town. The glares I received when we arrived shook me, the looks of utter hate made me feel cold to the marrow. Alone I was scared, but when I was with them I was unwelcome. After that first group was taken back things sped up nicely and soon our numbers were back to normal, save for a few unbranded horses that we couldn't claim from farmers and towns people, and a few horses had - like I had predicted - been killed.

After a while the bullying died down and my life returned to some form of normality. The colonel had said to his men that the stallion had achieved nothing but some slight disorder and a few bruises, and that he would be recovered. There was little to do in the fighting sense, so a small band of us were ridden out on long treks to track the golden stallion. We were unsuccessful.

For a few months.

Finally, another battle was planned and we rained down on the Lakota village like a storm from hell. I noticed in the confusion a buckskin and tried to follow him, but the colonel spotted the same boy from the post on a pinto mare by the river. He urged me over there to cut them off and he aimed his gun to shoot the Lakota. But the mare reared to protect her human and was hit in the shoulder. I tensed. This fight was between humans, not us. A wave of guilt washed over me as the couple fell into the torrenting river. The mare was swept downstream and the boy clung to a rock while the colonel aimed once more.

My guilt was forgotten as a considerable weight slammed straight into me. The shot missed and I recovered to see the stallion racing after the pinto and jump in after her. The colonel cursed and pushed me back into the village for another wave of attack.

There was a week inbetween the attack and our next scout. We left in the middle of the night and rode out to the remains of the village and crossed the river. The waters were calmer now and the men made a makeshift bridge for us to use as a crossing. We travelled along the river until the evening, where we rested at the foot of a hill for the night. The next morning we were saddled late and we crested the hill to see a golden buckskin stallion and a Lakota boy playing in the water. The five soldiers and five warhorses stared in disbelief. Just like that, we had been brought together again. The two saw us below. The chase was on.

The horse ran ahead of the boy. Shots were fired and he tripped. I expected the wild animal to keep on running, he had no idea what it was like to care for humans. But he surprised me, and turned back to let the boy ride him through the canyon. I knew their game, the channels were narrow and overlapping, they hoped to lose us in the natural maze. I kept on their trail and sprinted after them through gullies and across a ledge. We lost them around and corner though, and saw it was a dead end. Two soldiers arrived behind and one of them spotted them climbing a stack. The soldiers shot upwards and missed, then began to climb up after them.

Seconds later I heard the scrabbling of hooves on rock and looked up to see the stallion leap right off the edge of the stack. It wasn't possible, it was only suicide! But still I saw Spirit soar, something that even he couldn't describe to his children. I have seen a legend. They landed with the grace of a black bear falling out of a tree and tumbled to the ground on the other side. We stared in awe. One of the soldiers raised his gun, but the colonel held up his hand. Then he did the most amazing thing.

He nodded to the stallion. He gave up on the chase, just like that, he had learned that he couldn't always control. Sometimes he had to just let things go. If it was going to happen, it was going to happen.

My life went on, uneventful for years. I trained and and fought until I was the finest warhorse in the West. I saw death and destruction so often that I believed that it was simply a part of life. My heart and soul grew harder than any granite or marble when it came to mercy and pity. I never killed, but I never stopped my rider from doing so, which could be seen as the same thing. For five years the days merged into one. Then I saw her.

One late afternoon a palomino mare was tied to Murphy's posts. She was clipped, cleaned and shoed. Rumor had it that she had been bought by the colonel from some cowboys. She had been tamed and trained on a ranch in the green plains and two men had got good money out of her. I was about to ask the other horses what the men looked like, with a dim glimmer of hope that it could have been Speedy, Boss and Bear, but suddenly there was a neighing and the distinct "Oof!" sound that told us that Murphy had taken yet another beating. The mare had reared when he tried to brand her, so they decided to wait until her spirit had been broken to try again.

She was placed in the long stables in the North-East corner of the base and retrieved by the colonel a few hours later, who rode her around the arena. Since the day that he had nodded to Spirit he no longer used his crop and spurs, so she trusted him and did as she was asked. At the time, I was annoyed to hear that she was to be the colonel's horse like me. I panicked, fearing that I was too old to do my job, that i was being replaced. She was taken into my stable and I resolved to ignore her until the morning.

We didn't see eye to eye straight away. I approached her furiously, explaining how it was my stall and my rider, and how she couldn't just suck up to him just to steal the luxuries I had. When I snapped, she did the same back. i was horrified to realise that I had met my match - in the form of a female.

When I was taken out for training I had time to think, and decided that i had been to hard on her. If the colonel didn't want me any more he wouldn't be riding me. When I was taken back into my stall she moved away so I could have a drink and pushed some hay towards me. I gave up my fight for control and told her about Maralyn, how she was ground down by man and then killed in a fire, and how I wanted her to stay as wonderful and beautiful as she already was (not in those precise words, though) and how I thought it was best for her to escape. We exchanged names, and her's was Jade.

We understood each other from then on. The colonel rode both of us, switching back and forth between two mounts. When we were in the pasture we ate together and chatted about ourselves. I told her what work we would do and about my childhood, and when I questioned her on the wild she answered my every query. I told her of the stallion, whose name I didn't know at the time, who had let out the other horses, and that if I had followed then we would never have met.

Captain Stirr had been chosen to finish off her training, so I had more time being ridden by the colonel. A while later when Jade was back in the hut I told her a little about Tony Stirr's service and how he was close to the colonel. She was shocked to learn that I wasn't close to any human, even the colonel, despite me being his horse for years. I didn't want to upset her, but I tried to explain that no human was special to me because it hurt to get attatched. If I had been clearer, I could have saved her from so much pain.

A couple of weeks later we had battle practise in the desert. When the first guns fired Jade ran off with the colonel on her back. I knew that he would bring her back so I kept on going. I jumped a log and I felt Stirr, who was on my own back, sag and fall. I stopped and stood by his body, knowing only too well what had happened. I no longer felt guilt or remorse, I was a warhorse, hardened by battle and bathed in blood.

We walked back to camp and Jade thought I looked miserable. I said that I knew it wasn't my fault and that it couldn't be helped. We walked in silence after that and I thought about my last remark. It had happened because it was going to happen, it was no one's fault, and no one could have prevented it.

I just kept telling myself that.

Time began to merge again, but this time I had something to look forward to every morning when I woke up. i found myself growing closer and closer to Jade. She was beautiful, in body and soul. She had not been battered down like I had first feared, and I wanted to tell her how I felt.

But something always held me back. Deep down, I had cared about Tony. This was the army, and I knew that people died regularly. So did horses. A war of my own raged inside my head for days on end until I finally decided, my heavy granite heart weighing my chest down, that I had to stop her from getting any closer to me than I could see she already was. So that evening in the meadow I was harsh with her, I told her I wasn't interested. I lied, saying that I had pitied ehr when we had first met and that i had been playing her along all this time and that she was disgrace to my name. Her wild blood was a stain on my authority and I was a laughing stock to the others. So we parted. She has never looked so dejected and torn in all her days, and to this day I still feel guilty for it.

That night there was a fire. I was rescued with the other horses, a young lad that Jade knew had sounded the alarm and saved us all, but when I searched for her outside the blazing camp in the dead of night I couldn't find her. I feared the worst. I was reliving my worst nightmare. The horse I loved was inside a burning building.

I raced to the gates but stopped. My world frose and there were only memories. I was now standing infront of the ranch barn, my mother calling me to come back to her. Up ahead I could only see the red flames and the sooty smoke. The sound was blurred and the actions were slow. Every minute detail was there, every scent in the air and knot in the wood. Inside the inferno was Maralyn, screaming her heart out.

I couldn't let it happen again.

I jumped over the fallen beams and into the burning camp. I began sprinting to my stall, hoping that Jade had stayed put. I found her in the hut, which was now being consumed by the rampaging fire. She was on her side, crushed by a beam and struggling to breathe as she slipped in and out of conciousness. I put aside all my fear and concerns and whispered to her, "I love you, Jade."

She staggered to her feet and we rushed out of the stabled for one last time. She was in pain in trot but we were running out of time, so she forced herself into a canter. I could have made a break for it, but I stayed with her for support. I doubted she even knew it was me, or if it was all really happening. As the fence began to sway, threatening to crush us, we made one final leap over the logs and to safety, just as the wooden walls collapsed inwards where we had been seconds ago. We were greeted with a band of relieved horses and men. I felt something that I hadn't in a long time - welcome. These were the horses that hated me, and now they were over the moon that we were alive. Without warning, Jade fell to the floor and slept through the bitter night.

I was woken by her in the early morning and we said little to each other. We both knew that I was sorry and that it was a new beginning for us. I explained how I wanted to detatch myself from her so that if I lost her in battle then he wouldn't hurt so much, like I had last time. I said that I had been a coward and disappointed her. It was how I felt, like I had failed her, but she said that I could never disappoint her. We understood each other from then onwards.

When the men woke we set off in a group to find a train track and get help. We cantered together through green lands and eventually came to the remains of the village we had attacked when the stallion knocked into me. Jade was appalled and started asking me questions about the whole thing, which I was uncomfortable with but answered anyway. I told her that our camp did it, because their people want the land and would get rid of anything in the way, even the Natives. She asked me if I agreed with it.

How could I possibly answer that? If I agreed with it she would never look at me again, but if I disagreed then I would be betraying my masters, whether or not they could understand me. Not only that, but this was the only thing I had ever known - I had no other way to compare it to. But a part of me knew it was wrong, so I fell silent in shame.

The men spent the afternoon constructing a bridge. We crossed it and travelled up the slope on the other side of the river to the track. There was no train in sight, so the colonel sent three soldiers in each direction to flag one down if one went by. We fell asleep there, and were only woken the next morning with the spotting of rain. Jade saw a cloud on the horizon and I recognised it as steam from a train. It stopped nearby and after a few words half the group was boarded onto it and sent to the town of Gunnison.

When we arrived a boy led us off the train and into a barn on the edge of town. The horses were housed two to a stall and me and Jade were together. Over the four days following it more horses arrived and training in an arena jsut outside the barn involved more and more swordwork, so I guessed that a big battle was due.

We were lying down in our stall and I told Jade that the men planned to set off at sunrise. She asked me if I would teach her how to understand humans and I agreed. After a while she asked if I thought we were going to die. I replied with my usual motto of if we did, we did. I had been in the army for eight years now and I was still fighting strong. I told her that the trick was to stay one step ahead and outwit death forever. I planned to die as an old, old stallion.

We talked about me going with her back home, but I denied the offer. There was no way for me to survive the winter or face up to predators or cowboys. She fell asleep, upset but understanding. In the morining we set off, the colonel on Jade at the front line and me behind with the lad on my back. We cantered all day and rested in a small wood, where we grazed together and Jade told me the story of her father, Spirit, and the story matched the one of the golden stallion from a few years ago. We were both shocked by this. Jade seemed uneasy but she said nothing to me, so I kept my nose out of it.

The next morining we continued to search for the village. When the men found it, we all waited behind a hill for the orders to attack. When they came, the entire division charged with such thunder that the ground itself shook. But the enemy was prepared and weapons were drawn. In the confusion I lost sight of Jade and ran straight into a Native. A second soldier shot at him, but I spooked and moved into the bullet's path. Pain shot through me like never before. i knew this was the end. The boy fell from my back and I collapsed on the ground. I whispered to myself that it was meant to happen, so it happened.

Out of nowhere Jade appeared and whispered to me, "I love you." That was when I realised that I was a warhorse, and I would fight like I had been taught to. I rose from the ground and staggered away with her, far out from the village where I fell unconcious.

When I woke it was dark, but strangely it was daylight. I saw the hides that made up the tent around me, the sunlight making it's way through them. Jade wasn't there, but I could smell her in the air. She wouldn't have abandoned me. I nibbled at some grass and longed for some water. I was stiff and aching but I had pulled through the night, which meant I had a good chance.

Later on Jade appeared with a Native girl who gave me some water out of one of their containers. I didn't know whether to trust her at first, I had always been taught to hate these people. But Jade reassured me and I allowed them to handle me. The people were calmer and kinder and allowed me to do as I pleased. Soon I was able to stand and walk.

We stayed in the village for a few weeks in the autumn. When we were fully healed (Jade had suffered back sores from sleeping with a saddle on) Little Creek, a Native boy, took us into an enclosure and painted us with patterns. it was fun to see each other covered in dye, and we were curious to the ways of these humans. One of my markings symbolised speed, which we got a little awkward about since we both knew my leg might never be the same again. But I told her that once I was fully healed, it would be my honor to return home with her.

 A few weeks later Little Creek woke us in the early morning and took us to the forest river. He washed off our patterns and told us that we were free. It was as if the boy knew that we wanted to go, which I regretted. They had been so kind to us, even if we had attacked them, and we repaid them by wanting to leave.

But Jade knew this was not an offer, but an order. So she turned and cantered away, me following behind. As we quickened our pace my leg began to loosen up, and soon we were on high land where the first snowflakes of winter were beginning to fall.

Unfortunately my leg didn't last. We made slow progress and the snow began to fall heavily each night. We continued travelling in one direction for days, until an eagle settled nearby. Jade knew it as the one form her homeland straight away and it recognised her too. I hid behind Jade. I had never been so close to a wild animal before. It was a massive bird, it's claws got so close to her face when it played with her mane, but she didn't fear it. Eventually I got used to it's talons ans pointed beak, and the eagle showed us the way home.

Along the way the weather worsened and Jade taught me how to find food in such conditions and I taught her about understanding humans. Not that she would ever need it again, but she was still intreged by it and I wanted to pay her back for the survival lessons. Blizzards occured every night while we were sleeping in a shelter so in the morning we had to endure huge banks of snow and by midday we were soaked through and exhausted. I had never spent winter outside before, but I knew it was the first of many so like it or not I just had to get on with it.

We grew less hungry over a week and the snow began to fall less often and it melted quicker. It was a blessing on the flat plains but when we got to mountain sides again it was hell. We slipped a few times and were very aware of avalanches. But, typical of life, we were prepared for avalanches because it was the conditions for it, but the last thing we expected was another blizzard - the worst one of the season.

The snow thickened and we couldn't see straight ahead without hurting our eyes, so we stumbled blindly about on the hillside. Soon I had lost Jade and stayed still for the storm to die down. After about an hour the eagle reappeared as did the landscape, but there wasn't another horse in sight. Luckily, the eagle had spotted her and I plunged through the snow to where he was hovering. I saw Jade break through the top layer of snow and lie, exhausted and sopping wet, on the blanket of white.

We travelled to a small copse where we fell into a heavy sleep. In the morning, the snow had compacted and was easier to walk on. Jade sniffed and took a walk around the woods then told me that we were under the tree that she slept under when she was first separated from the herd. We set off straight away, the eagle guiding us until we reached the river which we followed. The snow was hardly there and we cantered for the first time in days and sped towards my new home.

At this point I was nervous. I knew what her father was capable of and I also knew that the colonel - my rider - had shot his mare. If that was ever revieled then I was dead meat. But the closer we got the faster I ran. Even if I was terrified something was still pulling me towards the cimarron herd. We finally climbed up a steep hill and a herd of mustangs came into view on the other side. Jade reared and neighed, then galloped down to meet her parents and grandmother at long last. I walked behind, giving them their moment together before I had to be noticed.

Spirit eyed my US branding. I wondered if he remembered me, but even if he had that didn't stop him from from welcoming me into the herd. I was a stallion, a potential opponent, yet he was letting me stay. It was because he trusted me, because Jade did too. She wouldn't drag a horse out of the army and across miles of thick snow if she didn't love him. This was where I belonged. All the events that had brought us together had happened, so this, them and us were meant to be.