The sun beat down upon the cool grass of the western Cimarron. A gust of wind blew a warm breeze gently through the plains, stirring the leaves on the trees and swirling the hairs on the herd's mains and tails. One horse looked up, to look for predators, then lowered its head once more to graze on the sweet summer grass. The eagle, a familiar neighbour to the horses on the grasslands, soared over with a shrill greeting. In the distance the tumbling of white water could be heard in the mountains, and it rushed into the river, cooling the buffalo that stood there. At the top of the hill was a small outcrop of land, where a fine, golden buckskin stallion, would stand watch over his family.

But not today. Today he was pacing back and forth, nerves raw and heart pounding. How much longer would it be? Nightfall, he had to wait till nightfall, then it would happen. He snorted, and continued to pace, and even though it was baking hot in the July sun, he felt cold with anxiety. His mother stepped in front of him to grab his attention, and gave him a calming look. He was grateful for it, and swapped duties with her and went to check on the herd instead.

He woke with a start, realising he had dozed off. It was a navy blue night, and the moon shone bright above with any stars that were not faded out. Faintly, the Milky Way glistened like a diamond necklace across the sky, and it reflected in the water and in each horses' eyes. By now it was a lot cooler, and some mares had lay down to catch the fading heat from the ground. A stiff wind blew from the north, this time chilling and unwelcome. He shivered, and made his way up the hill back to his mother and mare.

She was struggling, he could see that. He lay down next to her, for support and reassurance. Her white and brown sides were heaving with the effort, and he hated it when she cried out. But soon, the worst was over, and their herd had grown. The tiny filly blinked a few times and nuzzled her parents. The mare promptly got up followed by the stallion, and after a receiving a few tender licks, the filly attempted to follow, but fell down again almost instantly. The stallion nickered in a sort of chuckle, and nudged the new born from behind to help her. She quickly got to her feet, and her markings were clearer.

She had the most beautiful golden coat, similar to that of her father's, with a creamy mane inherited from her mother. She was palomino, with pale stockings and a wide, white stripe down her face. Her hooves were pale and almost pink, the same flesh colour of the inside of her ears and nostrils. But the most curious and stunning feature of her, were the green eyes that shone like jewels on her gentle face.

My life began in a calm and peaceful world. Animals of the wild were left alone, and nature was balanced and fair. The rivers ran clean and freely, any dams blocking or detouring it were built to shelter residents of the wild. Grass grew long and sweet, and was only cut down by the grazing of herbivore beasts. The eagle would fly over the mountains, which only had caves that were naturally occurring. No man had ever set foot on our herd's territory. You could tell by the sheer beauty of the plains, with the rugged mountains south and west, and the valley to the east. It would simply be described as a haven for creatures that wish to be protected.

But my father often told me of stories about mankind. Of his adventures and how he met my mother. How he defeated the plans of humans and won the respect of a colonel. I listened intently with the other foals and could forget the world for a while and imagine what lay beyond our home. I never dreamt of travelling, but I was certainly curious about the rest of the world.

As I grew bigger and stronger my father taught me all he knew. We began with basics when I was about a year old. He took me down to the water and told me to look at the river. He asked me, what did I see? I said that I could see my reflection, and he looked at his own, thinking for a while. Then he said:

"You are young and inexperienced. That isn't a bad thing, though, it means you can learn, and that you can become anything because you have a clean past. Your first years are your greatest gift, and you should use them wisely. In a few years time, you won't be able to see the same picture as you can now. Your looks will change with your life. Even then, you will only see the reflection of your mind, not your face."

I understood little of what he said, but I accepted it. I trusted him that I would realise it within time. A few months later, he asked me to have a race with him. I will never forget that race, there are many reasons why. One may be that I treasure it as a father-daughter memory, another would be a personal achievement.  But whatever the reason, it was thrilling. I remember him standing level with me, and suddenly leaping into a canter. He stayed level with me at first, advising me on how to save energy and be more powerful in my stride. It was morning when he began to train me, and by late afternoon, I was galloping full tilt without being crippled for breath. It was then that he decided I was ready to test.

The wind was behind us and so was the setting sun. Ahead stretched miles of brown, withered grass, and the fresh scent of cool water. Somehow, we both knew when to go, without any warning, and we ran. We ran for what must have been minutes, before I continued to speed ahead, and he stopped behind to admire me. I could almost believe I was flying with the eagle as he swooped over me and pulled at my main playfully. When I realised I was alone, I skidded to a halt and waited for him to catch up while I caught my breath from the long sprint. He was pleased with my progress, and we walked down to the water to drink. The freezing liquid soothed my sore throat and relaxed me. On the other side of the river the herd dozed in the fading light. Exhausted, I collapsed next to my friends and fell into a deep sleep. The dream that followed has stayed in my mind for years.

Horses ran through soft grass that reached up to stroke their bellies, and the herd twisted and turned trough it, like schools of fish, their colours shining from the moonlight. Dapple greys, chestnuts, bays, buckskins, palominos, swekbalds, piebalds, they all galloped in unison, trampling the grass to stamp down the grasping fingers. One by one, they all dropped away from the group and stood still. High above, an eagle watched, viewing the pattern that had appeared. It was almost a mirror image to that majestic bird: a bald eagle, wings spread wide, as if trying to touch something beyond reality. As the wind picked up, and the grass blew gently, it appeared to be flying.

I woke, startled, at the peculiar vision. Closing my eyes, and bowing my head, I tried to uncover its secret meaning. But like many dreams, it quickly faded, and I was left to slumber once more.It must have been the race that caused it. All that running, and the eagle flying with me. I never looked back on it until years later.

As I grew I learnt more and more. After basic work like tracking the herd, being aware of predators and staying clear of traps, I was taught about my role. A lead mare does all the safety work, such as being first to drink at water holes and stepping foot in a forest before anyone else. I would obviously have a stallion of my own one day, but at that point I wasn't interested. I was close friends with the colts of our herd (there were no fillies aside from me), and I could never see them and me as a couple, with children, never mind leading the herd! I was a gangly foal with a rugged mane, messy coat and curly tail, but over time I became taller, stronger, smoother, and altogether more attractive. Yet still I had no interest in the young males. At three and a half years of age, I was almost fully grown, and could feed and fend for myself.

And still the work continued. I enjoyed it, the part that I spent with my father, precious days that I could never get back, but I must admit that I do think he pushed me too hard at times. I recall one lesson, on long distance jumping, we started easy, and got harder and harder as I succeeded. We were using the river as a jump. Any horse can leap about three metres if they wanted to, maybe even five if they really put their back into it. But this is my father we are talking about. He has repeatedly told me of his adventures, and how he jumped the canyon. Big whoop. He had to. He may have given me very long run ups, but I still couldn't reach the goal he set for me. We continued long into the night, him watching me fail over and over again, my embarrassment and shame increasing by the minute. I had let him down.

That night I was exhausted and was ready to sleep until noon the following day. But one thing kept me awake, the sound of arguing in the distance. My mother and grandmother were stressing to my father how hard he had been pushing me, and how I would react if I felt a failure. How, if the level of training went on much longer, I would not be able to keep my health up. It was all true, every word of it. But I didn't hate my father, I was disappointed with him, but I could never wish harm on him. And so, as the harsh words faded out, I began to sleep.

Later that year I reached my fourth birthday. There was no celebration, it wasn't in our tradition, but everyone knew it. Especially the young males. I suddenly found myself in a world where all the males trotted with high legs when they went past me, and play fought to get my attention. Several of them made moves, but I just wasn't interested. None of them were...right.

I was no longer hounded by lessons. Instead, I did my part to protect the herd, to lead and to scout. I found it the most boring time of my life, but it is the main bulk of a horse's responsibilities when living in a group. I grew quickly tired of my duty, and I often found myself wondering if this was the right path for me. But what choice did I have? I was born the descendant of a leader, of course I would follow in his steps.

It was a calm evening. The warm breeze relaxed every muscle and the tender grass filled out stomachs. I found myself at the riverside, at the slowest part, looking at my reflection. Years ago, my father had told me that one day I would see a wise leader, a different horse. The looks had changed, the proportions, the coat, the lot. Even my eyes were greener than ever, maybe it was because of the pink sky. But all I saw, was a mare that was three years older than when I had last thought about this concept. I saw no wisdom or leadership, just me. And that's all I wanted to be. Me. No duty or responsibilities or work or fear or family of my own. Just me.

I sensed that I was not alone, and looked up to see my mother next to me. She smiled and looked at my image too. She told me that I shouldn't take everything my father said so seriously, that I could become what I wanted, and being in charge of twenty-odd lives shouldn't stop me. Even as a leader, I could still be individual. I didn't speak. I just thought. After a while she sighed and looked at the sky. That was the first time I realised how old she looked. My earliest memory of her was a slim, streamlined creature, whose features screamed femininity, and who's main and tail flowed in the breeze, and a coat so pure it was never meant to be wild. Even out of captivity, she still looked pampered. But now, her face was sharper, her body leaner, and her eyes duller. Her main and tail were paler, the deep cream similar to my own fading slowly to white. But her spirit was young, and that is what kept her going so long.

She spoke, throwing me back into reality. She told me that every time the sky was like this, a life changing event happened in her life. When she was just two years old, her mother had been attacked by a cougar. The injuries were so bad that she did not make it through the night. Ever since then Little Creek had taken care of her. The next time it was when she was reunited with my father , the third, and last time since, was when I was born. I could feel her tension, and we could both smell it. Something was on the horizon, like thunder.

It was all over in less than a minute. What I thought was lightning cracked across the sky, followed swiftly by is thunder. But it was too short, too high pitched to be thunder. I couldn't have known it then, but it was gunfire. Panicked, we joined the rest of the herd in a hope of defending ourselves from the invisible enemy. Over a hill nearby, came a wave of horses, carrying humans. It was the first experience of man that I ever had and it wasn't a positive one. I could see them dig their heels into the sides of those poor animals, who, no matter how much training they had compared to us, we terrified also of the flashes and sounds. The men though, they looked as startled as we did. Looking back, it was probably just a practise session of riding for them, they had no idea that we were there. Suddenly, I snapped out of my horrified daze and saw my father racing towards the cavalry, not attempting to stop at any point. A soldier raised his gun at him, but with the least likely stroke of luck, the horse next to his kicked and knocked him off.

Meanwhile, as my father continued to surge forwards, one by one, our herd started to move, at first in a march, then into a canter, and within a few seconds we were in full bolt. A dangerous situation to be in. With no idea what was going on behind us we scattered. Many went to the river, guessing that the men would not be interested there. I caught a glimpse of my mother and grandmother making their way back up a slope for safety, but I just kept on running alone. I almost slowed back down to find my family, but several bracksof the guns reassured me that where I was going was a lot safer. Where that was, I would only find out later.

There comes a point in everyone, where, try as you might, strong as your will, you simply cannot run any longer. In my case I could no longer walk. It was pitch black aside from starlight, for it was a new moon. The frequent gusts of wind stabbed my aching muscles and froze my stiff bones. Observing me in that condition, you would think I was an old nag, ready to give in, but the reality was that age was on my side. Somehow, I managed to scrape together enough energy to find shelter in some trees.

I woke slowly and groggily the next day. It was mid morning, and the sun's heat bounced off the ground in veils. The woodland was cool and moist at least, and had a small stream. I spent a few hours there, grazing and drinking for an energy boost. On my long and tiring sprint I had not seen any other life sources such as this, and I was still shattered from the whole event. I had to make it back before nightfall, and not collapse doing it.

But which way was home? I used all of my skills to find the right direction, but nothing paid off. I even used the flow of the river to determine where I had to go. Once I found out, I followed it with my gaze. It meandered constantly, before disappearing through a tiny hole in the ground. I hadn't been able to register my surroundings when I arrived or when I awoke, I hadn't thought on. I couldn't stay, I was lucky to have survived the night: lying down could have been fatal if a carnivore had found me.

As time wore on I began to get fidgety and restless. I would have to gamble, there was no doubt about that. My father would probably send out the eagle to find me, so I would soon end up in the right direction anyway.

I hoped.

At a canter, I decided to go onto the open plain ahead of me. I remembered very few land markings, so this was a fairly good choice. With the sun above my head, I began to cover land previously unknown to me. My curiosity kicked in, and I found myself ambling along rather than jogging. Every now and then I would remember my situation and canter off again, sometimes in a complete other heading. By nightfall, it was clear I had gone wrong.

Tonight the tiniest slither of a moon peeked behind clouds that seemed to have drifted in from nowhere. The afternoon heat was trapped by the cloud cover, so I was able to keep warm. Naturally, I could sense that I was in the wrong surroundings. The land was too high, the trees unfamiliar, and the mountains too far away. The fog drew in, deep and thick, whirlpool of mist, blocking all from sight. It would be too dangerous to continue, so there I stood, my coat wet from the clumping cloud and the heat off the ground.

I must have stood for hours on end, because I woke up. I shouldn't have slept, it was yet another threat to my survival. But I felt better for it. I scratched my leg. As I raised my head I saw something move in the mist, of it was slightly thinner now. I could have sworn it was a horse's leg. I took a chance, and neighed. I waited for what felt like hours, but was only a few seconds, until the reply came. Yes, a horse. We were the only ones in this area for miles around, so surely my father had sent a group out looking for me.

But then came the shout of men. I stood stock still, my last encounter with the fearsome creatures returning to me. Out of the dense cloud erupted a loop, that fell around my neck. At first, I thought it was some kind of snake, and threw it off immediately. My movements blew away the fog and showed three men, all on horses, with more loops, throwing them at me. My instinct pushed me into a bolt, in a random route. The clatter of hooves on hard ground told me that they were still behind me. I had to lose them.  As if by magic, I exited the fog. I was so surprised that I skidded to a halt and looked back. The globe of low cloud spread for miles in both directions, there was no way of telling where I had to go. My only choice was to go forwards, and the men were already close on my heels.

I felt the ground begin to rise as I galloped at full pelt. I snuck a quick peek at the floor, and realised that I was on a ledge running alongside a cliff, with a steep hill of silt for a few metres. I thought about jumping it, but I knew in my heart of hearts that it would hurt. It was only then that I noticed I was alone.

I slowed to a walk, keeping cautious. My imagination leapt out of control, whispering to me that they were behind the next bend, or sneaking up behind me. Fighting down my fear, I kept on going. I stopped. The rumble of hooves echoed against the walls. Following the racket, I saw the trio emerge below, parallel to me but at the base of the slope. On rider urged his horse up it, but the poor animal just slipped back down. I could see in their eyes that they meant me no harm, but had no control over events. It was obvious to me that they had done this a hundred times over, and could hardly live with themselves for it.

It was a waiting game. If I walked, they walked. If I stood there, so did they. I went through a few ideas. If I galloped off then I could get back onto the ground and make an escape, but they would see where I was going and beat me to it, trapping me. Then I would have to jump. Unfortunately they stood right in my landing spot, leaving me room to hit the ground in front of them, for them to simply sling their hoops around my neck. I could have leapt over them thanks to my hard training, but I didn't have that sort of run up available. And worse, I slowly began to feel sleep forcing my eyelids shut again. It was to be a long night, and I did not have the ability to finish it.

Eventually, I made a break for it. How? I used both plans mentioned. As the riders' horses began to slip as well, I suddenly broke into a tremendous gallop along the ridge. Unprepared, the riders kicked their horses so hard, that they snapped awake instantly and thought there was a cougar on their back. Two of them threw their mounts to the ground, whilst the other one (by observation the leader of the group) gave chase to me.

I took my earliest chance and leapt off the shelf, almost knocking straight into the other horse. Away I sped, the fog starting to seep into view again. This time I stayed on level ground, and took the hunt into some woodland nearby. Somehow, the other two had managed to catch us up, I became desperate, weaving between the trees and changing my heading every few seconds. I thought they had me cornered for a moment, and so did they, but by some force of will from deep within me, I tackled a seven foot jump over a fallen trunk. By some miracle I had escaped. The area that they were left in was a narrow one way path in the other direction, so it would at least buy me a few minutes. I slowed to a canter and headed for a gulley.

Over hundreds of years water had carved through the rock, causing vertical walls that weaved through the flat, dusty plains. Horizontal bands of silt and rock made it obvious that the land was ancient. Year by year, inch by inch, the river chipped at its bed and banks, gnawing at it like a starved beast to widen the passage and let through its continuous load. Now, I was making my way along the bottom of a miniature canyon, with the smallest stream I had ever seen. It's brown murky excuse for liquid lazed along the tiny channels in the floor. There must have been a drought in the area, that would explain all the dust and the lack of both plant and animal life.

My ears pricked up when I heard the faint sound of hoof beats. I looked franticly around for a place to conceal myself, but there was nowhere but the wide ditch ahead and behind me. Pained with fear, I turned my head to look for the riders accelerating towards me, before I was captured and taken to a far off land. My legs quivered with the lack of energy, and I looked forward to rest at last from this pathetic chase.

But there came no trio from the dark. Yet the sounds echoed around me. It was then that I realised that they had flanked me and meant to corner me at the end. I turned in the opposite direction and began to run again, urging my tired legs on. I then saw the last rider, the leader, heading straight for me at the bottom of the canyon. I reared and turned in one go and continued to sprint in the opposite direction. There was still a chance I could outrun them.

A minute later I saw it. Two slopes either side reaching down to my level. I started to race with the two horses on either side of me. The first one to the end f the slope would win. When they sped up, putting a further gap between us, I could see that I had already lost. The two riders had their loops ready and were swinging them above their heads. The one behind called to them, and he too had a loop above his head. One last time I found an escape route. A bank of silt pushed up against one of the ledges. I turned for it, feeling the unfamiliar brush of the man's rope on my back. That was the first time I had ever felt the vile stuff, itchy and strong. I bounded upwards for freedom.

The rope tightened around my neck and lurched back, pulling myself over with it. While I flailed in the air for a second a second hoop caught around my ankle, and a third also around my neck. I slid down on my back, the grit scratching at me all the way. When I finally came to a dusty stop, I tried to get up and run, but the ropes tightened again and strangled me, the one on my leg tripping me over. I lay on the ground for minutes, whilst all of us caught our breath.

Thomas 'Speedy' Dasher bent over almost double in the saddle, wheezing for breath. He was amongst some of the best riders in the west, and it was almost shameful that this mere horse had got him so exhausted. Refreshed, he patted his horse's neck and spoke out to his two workmates.

"Well lads, that were some chase, eh Bear?"

Barry Sasher, or simply 'Bear' as he was known to these close friends, nodded with a cough. He was almost the opposite to his best friend Tom, who was skinny and young, but was confident and light in the saddle. Bear on the other hand, had almost every disadvantage possible, but he was renowned for getting horses to reach their top speed, and though he was not the best of riders, he excelled at horse care. "Worth it though. Finest mare I ever seen, this'll be a prize for sure, they'll wanna buy her no doubt. Easy!" The palomino mustang on the ground struggled to get up, so he pulled on his lasso to prevent her from standing.

"Beauty ain't everything my boys," said a deep, harsh voice. "If she can't be ridden, she can't be sold. Her coat may be gold, but is her weight?"

"Yes, Boss." said Speedy and Bear together.

Jake Tumblethorn had been riding before he could walk. At forty-eight years old, he wasn't about to quit. His mother was of rich origins, his father died in battle and his brother was a blacksmith for the army. All three of those shared a connection with him: horses. He hated them, stupid creatures whose only use was their brute strength and speed. He did not ride for the pleasure of the animals. Oh no. He rode for the world, for the west. He had grown up on this barren land and had come to own it. That was what he rode for, that was even what he lived for: Control. He pleasured himself in getting something or someone to do as he said, or to be in charge of other people. That was why he was called the Boss. His two best friends did not fear him, just respected him. Only they would have that privilege aside from his family, if they ever chose to accept it. But everyone and everything else was to fear him like a tiny child would the dark. And he liked it that way.

Without patting it well done, Jake dismounted his horse and knelt by the mare, who was quieting now, accepting what was going on. "There now, you just do as told and nothing bad will come of you. You're luckier than some horses we've had, some were useless except for hound feed."

As if she understood him, and that would never happen, she was a thick headed beast and nothing more, the mare snapped at him, missing his fingers by millimetres. He yanked the rope around her neck as a punishment and got back on his horse. The small group pulled the poor creature to her feet and began the long trip to the ranch.

As they dragged me to distant horizons I dragged my feet across dry, hard rock. My frogs were sore, my legs were sore, I felt sick and dizzy. I only tried to resist once, but my dying strength was easily won over by the trio. I tried locking my legs, but they yanked me over with no fuss at all. I quickly gave in and just longed for a rest. At one point I thought I saw the eagle soar over me, but it was dark, and there were many other birds that it could have been.

Slowly, the sun began to rise above the distant mountains, and the frozen air started to thaw. I hadn't realised how cold it really was, I had been running so much that my muscles seemed forever heated. I noticed that even the men were becoming sleepier now, it had been a long night after all. The one in charge seemed harsh and overbearing, but the others I felt I could trust. Just a little. Still, I would not trust them until I knew what they were going to do with me or how they were going to treat me.

At noon we stopped for a well earned rest. We had walked far through the morning and were now in greener surroundings. There was lush, short grass that cushioned my throbbing feet, and a river that was icy cold. I even splashed my head in it to wake up and cool off, and the skinny one laughed when I soaked him through. I wanted water. I would not have gone another step unless I had filled myself with it. My throat was dry and gritty like the desert as I had not drank since the previous day. Refreshed, I stood with the other horses under the shade of a small tree. I was curious as to how they did not run off, for I was tethered to the trunk while they were allowed to walk freely. Eventually my inquisitive mind took over and I asked.

They said it was because the men treated them well, even the harsh one, who did not like them, did not harm them aside from using a whip or kicking too hard. Then why did they stay with them? Though they had heard of better things, like the wild and freedom like I had come from, the men were their friends and protected them. I asked them why they trusted them so much and why they did not want to try fending for themselves. They simply answered: "It is all we have ever known".

While we stayed there I mulled this over. I only wanted to go home because I was used to it, and did not like this world at first glance. But these horses were happy, their coats were shiny and their weight was right too, so it couldn't be all that bad. My father tried to get away every time he came across men, and he was lucky to escape. But I had attempted to fool them, and man's wit and intelligence was getting stronger. It was harder to fight than to do as they said, and who knew? Maybe I'd like it.

But my family, my friends. My life. How could I have been so selfish back then, and even wondered about becoming tamed. I could never in my days turn my back on them all. And yet, as the men gathered up their steeds, and untied the rope from around the tree cautiously, I did not run. The dumpy one even tried to stoke my neck, which I hesitated at first, afraid, but I soon let him pat me. I had made my decision, things were going to be easier from now on.

By nightfall we had made it to a small settlement with a wide, deep river running alongside it. A waterwheel turned continuously and I could faintly hear horses in the background. Grass rolled over hills behind and to the sides of the buildings. From the angle we were at I couldn't see any fences, but like all humans, being territorial animals, I knew they were there.

The men dismounted and the skinny one led me to a small meadow with a shanty shelter in one corner. It was a cool night to I opted for the warmth. As soon as I stepped inside I noted the smell of dry hay. The heat made me instantly calmer and sleepier and I almost nodded off, but I noticed a dark figure against the other wall. I stepped forwards to have a closer look. It was an old mare, more worn and withered than my grandmother. She too came forward, and stood in the light for me to see her properly. Her coat was dark bay, but where her points used to be black she was now fading gradually to grey. Her eyes were chocolate and dull. Yet somehow full of life. She looked me up and down, almost inspecting me. She walked around me, checking my stockings, hooves, mane and tail. At last she stopped ahead of me and looked at my facial features. I could see that she was excited as soon as she looked at my green eyes. She constantly smiled, and her breath was warm and welcoming. For a moment I felt like I was a weakling foal, dozing underneath my mother for protection.

I snapped back into existence when she asked my name. He voice was smooth and silky, it held wisdom and kind words that would one day show itself to me. I answered, and for some reason added ma'am at the end. She had that influence, like royalty. She told me that I had no need to be afraid, she had been just like me at her age. I never quite caught the meaning on that sentence, but I trusted her. She made me feel safe. I wanted to know everything I could so that I could survive in a world where men were in control, so I started asking questions.

Her name was Tammy. She had lived in that small settlement her whole life and had had over five children. She was now 27, and not getting any younger. She did little riding herself but raised foals that the men wanted to sell. I was appalled. What right did they have to force her into parenthood? She said she didn't mind, and that she got used to it quickly. Just because she had no control over it didn't mean she didn't love her foals. Was this going to happen to e, I asked. She thought and said that it probably wouldn't, as I looked too good for just farm work and my genes were hard to recreate. I had no idea what she was talking about then, but it turns out you need the creme gene to be a palomino, and it's hard to breed us. Score one to me!

Then what wouldhappen to me? Tammy said I would be sold on after training, and the quicker I obeyed the riders, the quicker I would be moved on. But did I want to move on? This place didn't look too bad, with the scenery, the standard of living, and Tammy was here, already a new friend of mine.

The next day one of the humans climbed over the fence with two ropes and came toward up slowly. Tammy gently tugged my mane for reassurance and led on into the open. Standing there, in plain daylight, letting a human come straight up to me didn't feel right. My legs trembled as I fought down the urge to run and leap the fence. But the old mare stood by me and made me feel safe, and I relaxed slightly. When the man came closer, I realised it was actually a boy. He was a lot shorter than the others and had lighter footsteps. His coarse black hair that dangled in his eyes blew a little in the wind, but was wedged firmly down by his hat. He had the calmest eyes I had ever seen on a living creature, green-hazel, and he had freckles all over his cheeks. When he spoke I was amazed by how low it was.

I watched him slip a rope halter over Tammy's head without her pulling away or nipping, so I tried my best to do the same. I hated how close his hands were to my eyes, so I closed them tight shut. When I opened them he began leading us back to the buildings that I had only seen in shadow the previous night.

The 'yard', as Tammy called it, was clean and boxed. I could smell warm human food in a building on one side, where they must have lived, and sweet hay on the other. With this inviting scent on the wind there came the low cries of horses, who must have known that we were there. The boy led us over to it, but instead of taking us inside, carried on walking and tied me up inside another shelter. It was better built, with a tiled roof and brick walls. I could smell metal and heat and water in there, which all drafted outside into the yard through the one open wall.

"She's a beaut, Boss! My dad says that she could almost clear the bills on her own!" shouted young Harold Dasher across the yard to Mr.Tumblethorn, who was now approaching. "And look at that coat! Shinier than a new cent I'd say! What should we call her Sir?"

Mr.Tumblethorn patted the young boy on the shoulder before placing his thick gloves on. "We don't name business, Sonny, or we'd never pry them off you! I remember when you were three years old you would cry whenever we sent a horse on. They're not pets, you see? They're money."

"Yes, Sir."

The man stopped by the furnace to check the heat. The flames soared and he assumed it hot enough for shoes now. "You'll make a fine soldier lad," he chuckled, poking the fire, "Enthusiastic, yet you follow orders to the letter and never question them." He stroked the horse over to check for health issues. "But I see your point, Sonny, she's a fine young mare indeed."

I was terrified! I had been tied up near a fire, had those two talking a mile a minute in loud voices an could hear the metal being hammered into shape behind me! I had no clue what was going on, but when I was grabbed by the mane by the man that was when my instincts won over. I reared as high I could with the rope restricting me, and gave off a shrill neigh for help. I heard Tammy in the yard, just out of sight, telling me that it was alright. The man pushed me down with harsh words and hit me under my belly. Ears flat back, I attempted to bite him, but the rope tugged at me and I couldn't reach.

The boy rubbed my shoulder, out of reach of my teeth, and soothed my nerves. I heard him whisper to the man and the old brute slackened his grip on me. For ten minutes I stood still for them whilst they trimmed my mane and tail to perfection. That really ticked me off, I liked it's length, how dare they meddle with it! I was groomed by the boy, but he had to stand on a bucket to reach my back. As he slowly brushed my neck I did not try to nip him. He was alright as far as kindness was concerned, but I was wary of the older one. He was so rough and compressing, he almost hurt my spirit.

Mumbling something, the man held my leg so that my hoof was in the air. I felt the cold press of metal against it and suddenly nails were being hammered into me! I was shocked, but it didn't hurt. Once he finished that one, he did the same to the other three. My feet were heavy and hard carry, but I got used to it by being walked around the yard once more.

Tammy commented on how smart I looked, which insulted me, because I was already seen as  a form of beauty back home, but I knew she meant no harm really. I was tied up again in another room. It smelt weird, I couldn't describe it at the time, but now I know it was leather and polish and soap. I was in the tack room and they were choosing out a saddle and bridle that fitted me. Once they had it, they fixed the bridle around my head and dropped the reins onto my back. It was uncomfortable at first, especially the bit. I will never forget the metallic, disgusting tang that thing gave off, and how it pressed my tongue down. I couldn't bite through it and it kept catching my tongue in the hinge in the middle of it.

A light weight was put on my back and I went rigid. Whatever it was, it itched. Then a much heavier item was placed onto my back. Saddles aren't nearly as bad as bridles and bits, but they're still pretty uncomfortable. The worst part is the girth. The man pulled that belt so tight around my chest that I could hardly breathe. But like all things in the human world, I grew used to it over time.

I waited a while in the yard next to my friend, gasping for breath, whilst the two humans called out another. The skinny one jogged to us and stopped to listen to instructions, the next thing I knew, he was on my back. I noticed that he looked a little like the boy, but with brown hair instead of black, and his hair stuck up instead of being a mop on his head. They must have been father and son. A memory of me and my dad racing across the brown grass that scorching summer.

Something jabbed me in the sides and I kicked out of reflex. The small one stroked my nose and the one my back righted himself. I could now feel his legs around me and the gentle pressure on the reins. The boy pulled my forward, but I stood still like a stupid beast, curious to see what happened. The skinny on kicked me again and I took a step forward, egged on by the smiling child. I got the idea. By kicking me I had to move.

I was walked to a field filled with sand. There was no grass in sight and I could see the hoof markings in the ground from where other horses had been. The marks followed continuously in a circle near the fence. The arena was twice as long as it was wide. Poles and boxes sat in the centre and I wondered what they were for. Some sort of torture maybe?

I was kicked again. I was already moving, so I didn't know what to do. I stopped to see if that was what he wanted. He kept on squeezing me. The boy pulled again and I started to walk. he kept on pulling and his father kept on kicking. I got a little annoyed and moved into a trot to make it harder for him. Oh. That was it. The kicking stopped and I felt my rider rise and sit in the saddle. For some reason it made things easier for me.

The work continued over the next few hours. I learnt quickly not to bite, kick or rear. I hadn't worked like this since my father was training me up. And now I was being reschooled so that humans could ride me for their own needs. I felt a pang of regret in my stomach as I realised that my entire childhood had been wasted because I would never use what Spirit had taught me.

Then they brought out the jumps. My ears pricked forward in enthusiasm. This, if anything, would earn my stripes with these people. I could jumps the highest and farthest of all the Cimarron herd. But that was without an extra weight on my back. Still, he was light enough, and I was strong enough, so it shouldn't make much difference.

I tried really, really, reallyhard to do everything that he said. Rounding the corner, he ushered me into a canter, and I neared the four foot fence. I kept my pace even, but picked up speed, closed my eyes and leapt. I felt the wind rush past me for a brief moment, and my hooves hit the ground in front of me, followed by my hind legs.

After a few more rounds, making the jump higher or longer or more complex, they untracked me and led me to a stable to rest. The walls on either side went from floor to ceiling, so I couldn't communicate with the other horses. With all honesty I was a little frightened. I had been locked in a small room, alone, on a cold, blustery night. My head felt light and so did my body, welcoming the removal of the rider and saddle. I gradually closed my eyes, and fell asleep.

I went through much more of these exercises in that ranch. Day by day I learnt how to understand, obey and carry my masters. By the end of the month Tammy said I was showing distinct values of a domesticated animal. Most days I was let loose in the field with Tammy, and on a few occasions with other horses too. The lad came to see me every day. he had never ridden me, but had watching his father each day with eager eyes. He, too, became my friend, something I never really had had before then. I got on well with my herd members, but I only spent time with the ones my age because of that exact reason, and my father was my father, of course I wanted to spend time with him.

The summer turned to autumn, and that slowly to winter. I recall one night, me, Tammy, and a grey mare of her age called Abby, were out in the field. The stumpy human, the one who brushed best, had dumped a large pile of hay into the field for us. As we munched away, something cold landed on my nose. I looked to the skies, followed by the two elderly mares, and saw the first flecks of snow, abseiling down from black clouds, leading the winter into the land. I shuddered unexpectedly. I could feel it in my bones. This was going to be a tough winter for me. Not due to the elements, but social hardship and torment, ready to push my body to the limit.

It seemed as if nature itself had put me on trial that terrible December. The first shock came in the first week or so. Tammy was dying.

Colic, someone had said. I remember the boy, lying with that wise old horse all night, awake, to make sure she had everything she needed. I hung my head over the door of my stable to try an hear everything going on, not out of nosiness or disrespect, because I cared for her, and I anything she said or requested was important, I would be honoured to carry it through.

I waited each night with that poor, disheartened boy. I nickered every once in a while to remind him that, no matter how separate he felt, he was not alone. It seemed that nothing could turn his features into a smile. the day it happened, I almost fell ill myself with shock.

"Hey Bullseye," Speedy said gently, opening the stable door and crouching by his son. "You've been doing a fantastic job caring for old Tammy here, so I thought that we should treat you as a reward."

The boy didn't look up. He just continued to stroke the neck of the helpless creature. "You've only kept her alive 'cos you think there's a chance we can save her," he finally said, looking his dad straight in the eye. "Why isn't she getting better?"

His dad sighed. "I can ride and train horses, lad, I can't mend them and I don't even know that they're lame until I ride them. But the vet is arriving soon and he is going to do the old girl everything he can. But he needs quiet, boy, so here's what I wanted to ask you: I think you're ready, will you ride the palomino?"

The boys face lit up brighter than the sun itself. "Really, Pa? Can I?" His dad nodded, a was almost pushed over with the hug he received. He would stay with the vet to help, and the boy would ride out in the forest with Bear and Boss.

Manners explained and rehearsed, the child ran back to the house and emerged with his two 'uncles' (unrelated of course, but it was appropriate considering how close their families were) with all the tack.

I was saddled and bridled and led into the yard where the boy got on my back after being heaved up by the rough one. He eased me into a walk, so lightly that I had to think twice that he was squeezing me. But I stopped suddenly and neighed a goodbye back to Tammy, she needed to know I was still thinking of her.

I was trotted and even cantered around the arena until the adults decided that I was a calm enough mount for the boy, and we all left the ranch. The one who had thrown us some extra hay the night the snow had first fallen (and it was now lightly sprinkled on the grass all around) was on a black colt, who's name I never will remember, whilst the leader was on a mighty chestnut stallion, who towered over even me. I hadn't seen him around the ranch, maybe he had a different timetable to me, but somehow I vaguely knew him.

For the pleasure of it (though I doubt that man on the chestnut knows the meaning of 'pleasure') we broke into a smooth canter. The colt fell behind me and the stallion, who were now almost racing but keeping in the gate. As we approached the thick line of trees I felt the tension on the reins and returned to a march, snaking between redwoods and pines and the odd maple.

I could smell the scent of rotting leaves, ice, fruit and a dozen different animal species. For a few minutes I acted like a foal, using my mind to play a game. This game was called the 'pretend you're back home' game. I could almost see my family in front of me, before they dashed further into the woodland.

Again we sped up, into a trot this time, and weaved through the dense forest. The snow had fallen heavier here, now midway up my cannons. And surely enough, white flakes began to fall upon us once more. It was beautiful is an understatement. I was perfect would be more accurate.

Until the gunshot rang across the land.

The boy on my back squeezed me once and I didn't need to be kicked on again. I headed towards the sound, the direction, just as I feared, back to the ranch. Newly lain hoof markings sat in the snow. I followed them at full pelt, aware how my rider was both thrilled and terrified at the same time. So was I. It passed between us in a loop, over and over and over and over and over again.

My instincts hit me in the mind and screamed "STOP!!!" Just in time too. There, before our very eyes, was a cougar.

It had it's back to us, but still it surely knew we were there. That was their way, to trick their prey. I was a bit large for just one cougar, he'd never know what to do with me. But I knew something it could easily eat, something a lot smaller than me.

It was on my back.

I stood there, determined. No! I would never let that poor boy come to such a cruel end for my own escape! I would defend him with my dying breath, he would do the same for me. He had treated me like one of his own.

And I would do the same thing. I would defend him.

I snorted, much to the boys shock. The cat couldn't deny that he had not sensed me now, and turned. It's claws extended, it dropped its belly to the floor. I reared, throwing the boy off to land in the soft snow. The cougar pounced, and was thrown back by a strike of my hoof. I landed on all fours again, staring it straight in the eye.

Then it was my turn to launch an attack. I swung my head to the side and hit it in the shoulder, causing it to go flying through the air. It hit a tree with a distinct thump, and fell to the floor. I raised my head, stunned myself. I had never killed another animal before, and it was not right. I wouldn't eat it, or feed it to my children, or take it to my masters so that they could dine. No. It was a waste of life.

Sometimes, you must realise that your enemies have lives of their own, and must see another day for their family to do so. So I stared at the big cat, lying heaped on the ground, for several minutes, until, much to my confusing relief, it stirred, got to its feet, saw me and fled to the other side of the forest.

Satisfied, I turned back to the boy, who had undoubtedly seen the entire thing and was almost paralysed with fear, surprise and gratitude. I walked over to him and nudged his head with mine. He fell out of his trance, and used a nearby log to climb back onto my back.

"Bullseye!" Bear cried out, relieved that they had finally found him. "There you are!"

"I'm fine Bear, really, the horse-"

"The horse took off that's what she did!" growled Jake, pulling up next to the duo. "If I had my way, that horse would get a flogging! She'd be-"

"But I sent her into a gallop!" the boy pleaded, not wanting to hear the drastic measures the ranch owner would take. She had just saved his life, now he could begin to return the favour. "I kicked her on to follow the noise! But then there was this cougar, she threw me off, and-"

"She threw you off?" Jake thundered. "Threw you off? Why of all the cunning little demons of this world, you wouldn't throw a man that would harm you, eh? Had to wait till the feeble, soft one got on. She's going to be sold, Sonny, and by the end of this fortnight!"

"No!"

"Don't question me! I am in charge, not you, not these horses, not anybody but me, do you understand?"

The boy was taken off my back and was sat in front of the kind man on his horse instead. Yank-hand led me on a rope tied to my bridle. I knew the boy could do nothing about things now, and none of this was his fault. And no matter how hard I was tugged, how harshly scorned, I did not regret the action I took, even to this day.

We arrived in the afternoon, my head low in submission, my mind torn into segments. I wanted to go home, I wanted to stay, I wanted to move on, I wanted to be left alone, with family, just with the boy and Tammy. Tammy! How could I forget?

To confirm my darkest dread, I saw the father leaning against the stable door of Tammy's stall. He looked as if he was fighting, and loosing, a battle to fight off tears. In his hands, he was holding a gun, not looking at it, but constantly reminding himself of the late events.

After a long conversation between the skinny one and the leader outside the tack room, I was unsaddled, and put back in my stable. On my way in, I risked a quick peek into Tammy's stall.

I count that as being one of the biggest mistakes of my life.

There, on the floor, not moving, not breathing, was the body of a bay mare, grey at the edges, and with brown eyes that were now duller than ever, void of life. There was a tiny hole in her head, which red stained the edges. I could smell blood. I squealed so loudly the skinny one leading me flinched before attempting to calm me. I was beyond being calmed. A flood of emotions threatened to drown me.

Anger, love, regret, pain, revenge, ease, hatred, loss, loneliness, shock, horror, fear, pity, sympathy, everything, but mainly those. And more than anything else, just one question, just one little word even:

Why?

I wouldn't talk to anyone in the pasture any more. On my final night, I stood, isolated from the group in a distant corner, eyes closed, listening on the wind. If I concentrated hard enough, closed my eyes tight enough, I could swear I could almost hear Tammy.

I heard the falling of hooves and looked up at the chestnut stallion towering above me. He wanted to talk to me, and went right ahead without being interrupted that I wanted to be alone.

He knew Tammy very well, he loved her as a mate. Of course, she had had foals by other horses, that was the human way, but each four-legged resident of the ranch knew that they were each other's soul mates. They were hardly ever apart when they were young. She would mother the children and he would teach them the skills they needed for domesticated life (smiled slightly, remembering my own father once more). They had seen many horses come and go over the years, many wild mustangs like myself, wanting nothing but freedom, but none, he said, none had ever been so close to her as I had been.

I listened intently as he continued to speak to me, revealing everything I wanted to ask Tammy but were too shy to consider it, everything about her childhood and memories. Each and every one of their foals together. Their last one, a colt, had been sold to the army, and he assumed that that was where I was headed too.

He turned to go, wishing me the best of luck, and telling me that after what I did for Harry, Tammy would have been so very proud.

Harry?

On the last night of my life at the ranch, I finally knew that boy's name. Harry. His thick, untidy black hair and his green eyes, not unlike my own, and above all his caring nature to all horses. Learn a lesson and live like him, not just loving animals like me, but every creature, every human, every plant and even things like rocks and water. Care for it, nurture it. Give it life, and above all, respect.

At the break of dawn a rope halter was slipped around my head and I was taken out of the meadow for the last time. As I stood in the yard, tethered to a post while the men tacked up their horses, sadly not any that I was familiar with, I saw a tiny figure in one of the upstairs windows of the house. I knew how it was, and gave a happy little neigh to show I was alright. Then I looked away, wanting our departure to be quick, and hoped that he wouldn't come down to say goodbye to me. Luckily, my wish was granted.

As we exited under the arch that I had entered for the first time many weeks ago, I felt a surge of sadness wash over me. I knew, deep inside, that this was a chapter in my life that was now over, and that I shouldn't look back on it with pity. We headed to what I thought was north. Before, when I was in the small piece of woodland alone, I tried going this way. Instead, I had ended up east, and got myself tangled in a situation that I was still fighting to get out of.

The temperature was reasonably mild that day, and as we set out I felt the first few spots of rain in days. Our breath became visible in the air and we shivered in the cold. The downpour worsened, making it almost impossible to see further than a few meters ahead. I noticed how every few minutes the water seemed to be a little bit higher up my ankles. The dust turned to mud around us, and washed away into the rivers. Eventually, we called off the trek for now and sheltered under a tree on a hill. There, I fell into a deep, uneasy sleep.

Horses ran through soft grass that reached up to stroke their bellies, and the herd twisted and turned trough it, like schools of fish, their colours shining from the moonlight. Dapple greys, chestnuts, bays, buckskins, palominos, swekbalds, piebalds, they all galloped in unison, trampling the grass to stamp down the grasping fingers. One by one, they all dropped away from the group and stood still. High above, an eagle watched, viewing the pattern that had appeared. It was almost a mirror image to that majestic bird: a bald eagle, wings spread wide, as if trying to touch something beyond reality. As the wind picked up, and the grass blew gently, it appeared to be flying.

I shot awake. That dream, it was one I had had before. As a foal, exhausted and satisfied from a day of fun. Only this time it came with a meaning. When I was younger and held no wisdom to my name, I could not figure out what it was trying to tell me. Now, in my current state, I found it as easy as standing to decode it. Freedom. That thing that I longed for. All those years ago, it had not been just a dream, it had been a warning, hold onto you freedom. Big help now, though, but then I remembered the chase, and how I had tried my very hardest to escape. It had not been my fault. And now, away from human civilization, I had my chance to go home whilst the men were sleeping. I looked over to the horses. All were asleep but one. He seemed to be able to read my mind, yet he did not stop me.

I took a step forward, setting eyes on the drab landscape. The night, dark teal with clouds, with the rain lashing down vengefully from above, it beckoned me. The wild. Something inside of me weighed up the possibilities. I could feel the rope I was tethered to a branch with stress slightly, but nothing I couldn't pull to a snap. Out there, I could wash away all of the pain and fear from the last few weeks, and let myself run home, south-westerly, and be safe from further harm.

And I still didn't move. What was holding me there? I could go, be free! But I could also... be tame. Protected. Fed. Under the oak it was dry and warm, or at least more than it was out there. I ran, the snap would wake the men, and they would give chase. I might be able to get out of sight through the rain with a head start while they saddled and mounted. But, alone, I might fall into a trampling river and drown. I might be attacked by a predator, as they could sneak up on me in the storm. I pulled on the halter again, the rope around my face tensing on my skin, reminding me of my restraints. After this, I thought, I will never be truly free, I will have been tamed. There was not much more harm that staying with the humans could do to my soul, and as lightening struck out against the navy sky, I deducted that the best place to be, was exactly where I was. The horse, satisfied, lowered its head again to sleep.

The next day the rain had become a faint drizzle around us as we continued. The horse from the night said nothing to the others, and I was grateful for that. I didn't want to leave the thinking that I was selfish and uncaring. The lad around us gradually turned into desert, the rain stopped, and the sun came out. By midday it was unbearably hot, and I almost wished for the storm to come again. But we were in the drought lands now, and there was no huge hope that it would cease to be so.

Luckily, I am an adaptable animal, we have to be to survive. I got used to the rays of heat on my back as did the other horses, yet it seemed that the men were finding it hard to cope out o their natural surroundings. Maybe they would have more energy, if they hadn't been communicating so much. Thy babbled for hours about things I couldn't understand. The stumpy one, he almost excited. Probably because he hadn't spent as much time with me as the lanky man. I knew he was grieved by the death of Tammy, and that it was tough for his son too, losing both her and me inside a fortnight. Not only that, but out of the three I trusted him the most, because he trusted me back. And he was the one who had taught me to bear a human on my back. So many things he had in for me, and by the high rush of short-legs and the gleam in the eye of the leader, I was about to pay him back somehow.

As the sun started to get lower in the sky, I saw another man building in the distance. This one was weird though. It was huge. Men stood on the roof from what I could see. As we drew nearer, I discovered that it was some sort of defence, and was all just a giant fence. Around what, I did not know, but I had a gut feeling that I was about to find out.

Approaching the fence, which was now over three times the height of the tallest building on the ranch, two massive doors opened, spewing blinding light onto the heavily shadowed ground. My eyes adjusted to the light, and all I could see was horses. Just standing the before my eyes. Maybe a hundred or even more.

On their backs were men, simply sitting there, until someone shouted, and they got off their horses and stood smartly to attention. I closed my mouth so that  didn't appear to be an idiot. I knew the horses were healthy, alive, but it wasn't natural. It was too perfect. Sure, do as humans say if they care for you, but don't become a zombie!

The man who had shouted came over to us. He had an angled face with a moustache and a tiny beard. His long hair blew slightly in the low breeze, his face merely a shadow due to the broad hat he wore. I could feel the tension around him, his authority was obvious. But my father was in charge of our herd, but no-one was unnerved by him. Then it struck me, it wasn't respect: it was fear.

The Colonel stroked the neck of the golden mare, wary of the glint in her eye. He stood back to admire her, then spoke to the three men waiting anxiously for the verdict. "She's a fine beast, Mr.Tumblethorn, just what you promised me, I won't deny it."

"Please Sir, just call me Jake, it'll mean no offence."

"well Jake, how much would you want for her? I can tell you'll be wanting more than any normal mustang."

Jake Tumblethorn rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Well let's see. Horse, that'll be the usual price, then another couple of dollars for the coat, would be worth a fortune in the fur industry," The mare snorted at him with disapproval. "Some more for the character of her you see, she's loyal and brave, don't get that often. Speedy? Anything else?"

The lanky cowboy jumped at the sudden realisation that he had been dragged into the matter. "Uh, she's trained Boss. Fully n'all. Be another ten dollars that, save you a lot of time. So that would be about..." Once again his maths failed him and he turned to Bear, who was getting restless. The dumpy man was happy to be involved for a change.

"Let's see... fifty-four dollars, seventy cents." He grinned, showing an array of black and yellow teeth.

"This is an army camp, not a gold mine. I won't pay more than fifty dollars." growled the Colonel. He was determined not to be scammed.

Jake examined his gnarled nails. "Fifty-three."

"Fifty and fifty cents."

"Fifty-one?"

The Colonel's hair seemed to bristle momentarily, then he said in a huff, "Done."

I saw the men argue for a minute, then they shook hands and my ropes were given to some young soldiers. I realised that I was being sold on! I didn't want to go, somewhere deep inside of me I had even warmed to the gruff one. But the matter was out of my hands. I tried tugging at the ropes and calling to them, but the cowboys were getting ready to ride back to the ranch. My eyes fell upon the skinny one, and he caught my gaze. He walked over to give me one last stroke on the nose. We had an understanding between us, he would tell Harry I was safe and happy. And maybe, maybe, one day we would meet again.