The river was smooth and gentle, flowing over rounded rocks and settled dirt. Fish swam beneath its gleaming surface, unaware of life above the water. The liquid was clear and sparkling and sang as it ran across the valley. Suddenly its tranquil existance was put to a stop by four hooves diving into the water. The fish shot away and the dirt rose from the bed. Spuro splashed about in the river with the other colts, neighing and shreiking loudly.

Bramble kicked some water at the chestnut and got some thrown at himself in return. Pippin rolled over in the muddy water and shook his sodden fur all over the others. Finally Spuro dived his front legs into the river, sending a wave over his sister on the bank.

Destiny shreiked as she was covered in the silted liquid. "Spuro! Urgh, mum! He's splashing me!" She poused over her ruined cream coat and drenched pearly mane and tail. She couldn't  have a relaxing day along the river bank with her brother around. He was a nuisance. Irritated, she slid off to complain to her mother.

Spuro grinned to his friends then set about rolling in the silt on the bank. He knew he could get away with it for a bit - his coat would hide the dirt. Bramble, on the other hand, would have his mother on his case, demanding why his grullo coat was covered in mud. Pippin would probably be Ok, his parents wouldn't notice the specks of dirt on his blanketed coat. Still, it didn't matter to Spuro what happened to the other colts - it wasn't his problem.

"Hey, Spur?" Bramble asked, attempting to wash the mud off his hide, "aren't you worried about your sister? I mean, won't she tell your parents?"

Spuro snorted. "Of course she will, but my mother will be too busy with the other mares to do anything."

"And your father?" Pippin said.

"Too busy fighting with my grandfather," he replied, standing up and shaking himself. It was true, Spirit and Durango had grown tense with each other over the years. It was only a matter of time before one of them would snap. "Look, even if one of them did bring it up with me all I'd get is a good nagging."

"And what about us?" the grullo asked, coming closer to the chestnut's face.

Spuro shrugged it off. What he was really thinking was, "Why would I bother about what happens to you?" but he decided to go with, "Colts get dirty anyway, so all this fun will be fine with your mothers, and you can simply deny it about Destiny - after all, it's me she's mad at."

"So we have a confession, Spuro?" The three colts jumped and Spuro spun round to see Durango glaring from the river bank, his sister smirking from behind him.

Spuro was taken by his father to have a walk through the valley. They wound their way through a piece of woodland in silence, then climbed to the top of a hill and looked over the land. Durango said nothing and Spuro just waited impatiently. Finally his father broke the silence and said, "You really need to grow up, Spuro. You're nearly four years old and if you don't watch where you step you will put yourself - and others - in danger very quickly."

Spuro sighed and rolled his eyes. "I am grown up, dad. I'm almost fully grown, I can fight, I can scout, you don't need to go on about it."

"You know how to be grown up but you don't actually use anything you've been taught," Durango replied, shoving his face infront of the colt, preventing him from looking away. "One day you are going to be a leader of this herd, all your friends and your family will be in danger unless you work hard-"

"But I don't care about them dad!" he shouted. "I couldn't care less if Bramble or Pippin got in trouble for annoying Destiny, and I don't see why I should have to babysit the other horses. Everyone should take care of themselves!"

"And what about those who can't defend themselves?" Durango asked simply.

Spuro didn't answer straight away, but then he said, "The more food for the healthy."

"Spuro!" his father bellowed.

"What?" he shouted back. "I don't have to care about anyone else, it's hard enough trying to keep myself alive!"

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Durango snarled, walking away from his son. "If you were on your own you wold suddenly become a star member of this herd. Ever since you were born you've been spoilt with atention and protection, and although you can fight you can't defend yourself if it meant your life. And if you can't do that then there's no way you'd be able to lead a herd."

"Good," he shouted. "Because I don't want to!"

"You have to," Durango replied coldly, "your mother is too weak to have another foal and you can't ditch this responsability onto your sister like you do with all the others."

"I don't want responsability, I want to do as I please. For a mustang I have no idea what it's like to be free!" the colt argued. Durango turned back in a huff.

"You're a disgrace," he muttered, and galloped away to calm down on his own. Spuro waited, alone, on the hill before he was sure he was alone. He reared and bucked and rolled until he was exhuasted. But the anger was still pent up inside of him. Why couldn't they all understand? What right did they have to force him to work? He wanted to run when he chose and concentrate on taking care of himself, he wanted to get dirty and not be thought bad of for it, he wanted to be truely free.

Time passed in the meadowed valley. Destiny was given a post in taking care of the yearlings, a sort of mothering class for young mares. Spuro, meanwhile, was assigned the job of watching over the herd from a sentry post, incase of the approach of man or a predator. He was supposed to be there for three ngihts a week, then have the rest of the time to hisself, but that wasn't enough for him. Instead, Destiny was loaded with playing nanny and signing lullabies before taking up her brother's watch.

During the nights when he skipped duties, Spuro was mucking about with the other fully grown colts, making the most of their time together before being sent out of the herd. Spuro often made it clear that he was to stay under the herd's protection, because he was the destined leader, but the others took no notice of his boasting and jsut laughed along.

"Besides, Spur," one of the boys, a palomino, joked, "I thought you didn't need 'the herd's safety' because you're such a good figher?"

"I don't, it's just easier to have someone fight for me," he grinned. The colts set about laughing, careful not to draw attention to the get together. However, under the cover of darkness a visitor was sneaking through the trees.

He eyes were gold and green, and glowed in the shadow of the forest. He slim body made no sound as it squeezed between fallen branches, rocks and ditches. The teeth shone like mirrors in the moon's faint light, and she was closing in on the sleeping foals.

By the time Destiny saw the cougar it was too late. The female attacker was already darting towards teh group of yearlings that she had promised to protect. She shreiked in fear as the beast approached. But suddenly her grandfather was on the scene. Spirit kicked the cougar full in the chest, followed it as it ran from the stallion and bit it a few times to make sure it never returned.

Once the stallion had walked back to the foals Destiny was there, checking on them. Each and every one of them was sound asleep. Spirit sighed. "Why were'nt you here, Destiny?"

"I tried to be," she replied, crying, "I try so hard to do everything right but thre's so much-" She broke off crying, receiving a hug from the ancient mustang.

Spirit woke the mares so that they could watch their foals while Destiny osrted something out. He took his grandaughter to her parents and explained the situation, before heading off to break up the party of colts and bring back the trouble maker.

"While you were mucking about with your friends, Destiny here was trying to do two jobs at once, and that always leads to disaster!" he explained, although the boy showed every sign of not caring.

"So? Mares multitask all the time, and Destiny's used to doing two jobs at once," he replied.

"That's because you never do anything that's asked of you and I end up doing it!" she shouted. Spirit told her to calm down and get some sleep.

"Tonight the foals were nearly killed by a cougar, thanks to you," he continued.

"Me? She wasn't guarding-"

"And you've always been reckless, immature and unhelpful. I've lost all confidence and trust in you. If it was a colt that I was going to drive out, it wouldn't matter to me, but you are one of my decendants and it's shameful to your whole family!"

"I don't care about my family, or the herd," Spuro said quietly.

Spirit stood tall, still burning his eyes into the colt. "No, I can see that." He turned away and gestured Durango to come with him. Jade said nothing to her son but watched over him until he was asleep.

 An hour or so later Durango returned alone. "Well?" Jade said, knowing her father only too well to know that he was giving him the 'quiet talk' treatment. Durango kept walking towards her, head down and his body tense with fury. It was bad news, she could tell already, and she tried to brace herself for it.

"If he does another thing wrong by the end of the week, he's being kicked out with the rest of them," he said, careful not to let prying ears catch his words.

"If," Jade repeated, "There's always a hope."

Durango laughed a little and shook his head. "There's no hope, Jade. Do you really think he's going to change over night? He needs the lesson of his life to understand why we use teamwork. A week isn't enough to teach him, but he could pull the final straw tomorrow. We've just got to spend time with him before he leaves."

Things went well for the six days of the week. True, he had his little arguements and played the odd trick, but nothing serious. Spuro spent time with his friends before they were kicked out, and he promised that once he was in charge he'd let them all back into the herd again. But on the last day, on the morning before the round up, he changed his fate forever.

He took some of the foals into the forest for some innocent games, chasing them and telling them stories. For hours they laughed and frolicked until he realised that one of the fillies was missing. He shushed the others and listened. On the windhe could hear a shrill neigh.

"Stay here!" he told the group, then darted through the woods towards the sound. As he broke through some bushes he saw the filly with her leg stuck under a root. She was lying on the ground, trying to twist her way out of it, but just making the injury worse.

"Stop moving, I'll get help," he told her, then raced back towards the herd.

He arrived back in the meadows and shouted for his father. "She's trapped her leg under a root and hurt her leg, I didn't realise she was missing until a few minutes ago!" he explaiend as he ran with the stallion.

"And where are the others?" he asked.

"I left them by the stream in the woods."

"Spuro, you idiot!" he shouted, quickening his pace. "Never leave foals alone for even a minute, anythign could happen! You go back to the group and I'll help the injured one."

So Spuro sprinted full tilt back to where he had left the group of foals. As he reached the first few trees he heard a screech of pain echo from where the filly was trapped. As Durango arrived on the scene he knew he was too late, and the cougar from the week before bounded through the trees to follow the scent of the group of foals. Spuro arrived just in time when the big cat leapt from the shadows.

"Stay behind me," he whispered. The cougar yowled at him, he snorted and stood his ground. He just had to hold it off until his dad arrived. A few agonising minutes later the sorrel barred the way to the youngsters and stood in the cat's way. He kicked at it and chased the beast as far as he could while Spuro led the little ones back to the herd.

One of the mares, Stardust, asked where her girl was. Spuro opened his mouth to say something, but no words would come. Everyone had heard the neigh, and everyone was looking at him. He was supposed to have taken care of them, and now one was gone forever.

The mothers hurried their children away from him before he cold cause any more danger to their families, and Durango made it back to the group of horses. Spirit made his way to the front. Durango knew what this meant for his son.

"Spuro, I gave you another chance," the leader began. "And you've blown it. You are a danger to all of us, and you are now going to leave with the rest of the colts. You're four years old, and you say you are grown up. You can fight, you can run, so use it well. Because none of us will defend you any longer."

"I will," Durango said allowed. "I'm ashamed of who he is and all he's done, but he's still my son and the rightful leader of this herd. He needs to learn a great lesson, but shutting him out isn't going to teach him anything except hatred and coldness."

Spirit rounded on him. "Stay out of this, Durango. I let you into my herd, I let you become my daughter's mate, and in thanks? I have you arguing with me all the way. We don't agree on anything, and just as your son will never lead my herd, nor will you. I'm assigning one of the colts who should be leaving to stay and take my place one day."

"You can't do that-" Durango shouted.

"I'll do as I like!" Spirit shouted back.

"Please don't fight, please," Jade said to herself. "Esperanza if you're there, talk sense into your son, for all our sakes." The old mare would never have allowed fighting in the Cimarron herd, but now she wasn't there, things could get heated.

"I've put up with your so called leadership all my life," Durango snarled. "Every horse looks up to you, admires you, but they don't have to do your every bidding like me. You've ruined me and you're ruining my son, so I challenge you!"

Spirit said nothing for a moment, until he replied with, "Alright. But I've got to clear out the competition first." He lunged at Spuro, who ran as fast as he could away from the herd. He kept sprinting through the fields that stretched away from the mountain range, not quite believing that he had been kicked out of his own home. All that boasting that he could stay protecting, all that sureheadedness and cocky talk had spun round and hit him back. Now he was trying to get away as fast as he could from the place he once called home.

After minutes of endless running he stopped to clear his head. The sun was beginning to set and the evening was promising to be crisp and relaxing. So what if he had been kicked out, he didn't have to do as anyone said any more. He was truely free, and it felt wonderful. Over time he could forget about the fear and pain, and from then on for the rest of his life he would rule his own life. The night was nearly upon him, and he knew that it was the beginning of the rest of his life.

Spuro travelled slowly along the valley for days. he was in no rush, he had the rest of his life ahead of him, and no one was there to speed him up. He never cleaned himself, he ate as much as he wanted and slept for as long as he chose. He never bothered checking for signs of predators or other horses, but knew that he would probably bump into one of his former herd members who ahd also been kicked out. He doubted it that anyone would attempt to climb back over the mountains - it was suicide to do it alone!

The summer's heat was beginning to dry the rivers and streams, so one morning when Spuro found a bone dry gully he wasn't surprised. He figured that if he followed it along it would eventually lead him to a water source, so he clambered down the unstable slope and began walking along the bottom of the ditch. He found himself constantly thirsty, bu there were many shrubs about to eat. He carried on through the second night, unaware that he was being watched.

The large stallion watched the stranger's journey along the gully. The youngster had no idea that he and the other sentry were watching his every move, and it didn't seem like he cared either. He deducted the young stallion's story. He was barely an adult, so he had been kicked out of his herd. He was disrespectful and reckless, so that added to his abandoning. The flaxen guard studied the chestnut and wondered what he would be useful for.

"Do you think he's trouble, James?" Nickle whispered to him.

The giant looked at the boy agin. "Nah, look at him, he's too young! Cocky little mite though, if you ask me. He couldn't care less if he knew we were following him."

"He must have the makings of a herdy, surely?" Nickle wondered aloud.

"You never can tell with youngseters," James replied, walking along the ridge, eager to follow the colt closely. "Come on! Let's report him to Shorty, he'll tell us what the boss would want." He started trotting towards some woodland.

"I hope the poor lad looks up soon," Nickle said to his friend, "before we test him, or it could be nasty."

The duo halted at the entrance of the clearing just as the voice from within it said, "Enter." They obeyed and described the stranger to the visionary. The old horse listened with interest and tried to build up a picture within his mind. It was the only picture he would be able to build, since his sight had long ago been lost due to his age. His dark grey caot had faded to the palest of shades and his coat seemed to be roaned, giving him a silver shine in the starlight.

"Test him," he decided, "then bring him to me if he passes. I can make up my mind properly only then. He seems like a wandering soul, this one will need careful examination."

The two horses left to find what they needed, then returned to the gully to place their trap.

Spuro heard a growl and looked up. The cougar was already bounding towards him. He was sick to the teeth of those things. Because of them he had been driven out of his own home. When the moment was right he gave the cat an almighty kick in the chest and sent it sprawling on the ground. It must have hurt, since the cougar gave up the battle and ran off.

"That must have been one hell of a kick," James muttered to himself. He knew that Van was usually a strong fighter, since the cat was always attacking trespassers for a meal, but he hadn't seen him give up that quickly in years. "Come on, let's grab him while we can," he said to Nickle, and they made their way down the slope.

Spuro saw the flaxen chestnut and blanketed stallions approach him from the stop of the ridge. Behind him another mustang had cut off his retreat. He had nowhere to run, so he stood tall and strong to see what they wanted. After all, if he could fight a cougar he could fight a few horses.

The flaxen one was a giant, clearly a crossbreed with at least one draft horse. Spuro suddenly had second thoughts on fighting the strangers. The horse next to him was a bay blanket appaloosa, tall but slim, and seemed to be more agile than the other one. The horse behind him was a black mustang. Spuro found it strange how they were all males.

"You're coming with us, son," the giant said.

"Says who?" Spuro retorted.

"Says the protocols of this territory," answered the appaloosa. "All who pass the test shall be taken for placing."

"Test?" Spuro repeated. He opened his mouth in shock. "You mean you set that puma on me? Why?"

"To see if we would have any use for you," the black stallion said, nudging him forwards.

"And we do," the flaxen finished. The three horses led him along the gully then up a slope and back onto the planes. The waited infront of a piece of woodland and waited for a few minutes. Finally they was called to enter the clearing.

Spuro gazed at the tiny horse. It was the oldest mustang he had ever seen, the stallion must have shrunken with his age. The horse was clearly blind and very frail. His bones looked brittle and the muscles were withered. The coat seemed to add an extra illusion of age, since it was a silvery white with grey specks.

"Definately young and inexperienced," the horse said, not moving from where he stood. "He says nothing but just stares at me. It's like he doesn't believe a wild horse could live so long. In case you're wondering, boy, I am nearly forty years old. I am the one who sees all."

"Pretty ironic considering you're blind," Spuro muttered. He received a knock around the back of the head by the giant horse. "Ow."

"Metaphorically," the old horse smiled. "You can't defend, you weren't looking at your surroundings until you were attacked. If the beast hadn't growled then you would be dead. A lucky escape, so learn by it. But you can certainly fight, James has told me that much. What training have you had?"

"Fighting, scouting and surviving in harsh conditions," Spuro replied. He was curious about how these animals lived. It was like a military procedure, something even he knew wild horses should not do. Only man was organised when it came to war.

"You're doing as you're told, that's good, you'll soon settle in here. And so I believe that you'll be good as part of our attack squad. James, take him to our leader and give him my report on the lad. Nickle and Ash, return to your post and take James' place until the shift changes."

The flaxen giant started to lead him along the open plane. Spuro's curiosity kept him nailed to the stallion's side. "So, where am I, exactly?" Spuro asked as they walked.

"We are a batchelor herd made of many horses," James replied, looking straight ahead with his ears forward, as always. "We are the Band. We work as a team to survive and one day we will be rewarded with a herd of our own, assuming that we have worked our way to the top."

"And that's why you're here, is it?" Spuro asked, but the stallion didn't answer him. "Look, I left my herd because I wanted to be free-"

"Two corrections," the stallion butted in. "One, you were kicked out of your herd, don't lie to me, and two you are free, no man owns you, that's as free as a horse can get."

"No it isn't!" he argued. Again no one could understand. "In a herd you have to do as the leaders say! If I was a rogue stallion I could do as I please!"

"Think about it, boy," the giant laughed, "if you were the leader of a herd you could do whatever you wanted. We believe here that freedom and control are the same thing, and you have to earn them slowly. I've been here since I was two years old, how long is that, you ask? Nearly a decade, and look at me! I am a captain, the head of defencive and offencive units and I am respected by all horses that are lower than me in rank."

"Yeah, well I'm not the leader of this herd, am I? So I don't have any freedom," Spuro said, hating to see the reason behind stallion's words.

"Not yet, and by the report Shorty gave you you could earn it quicker than the average younster," he replied.

"Oh, and let's get another thing straight," Spuro said firmly, "I'm not a 'youngster', I'm four years old, I'm a stallion. Not as big or strong as the rest of you yet, but I am an adult."

"Act like one then."

The ground started to decline into a ditch as the morning sun rose in the sky. What was in it took Spuro's breath away. There was a lake full of fresh, clear water, and the ground was covered in lush grass. Across the basin was a dustier patch of land with rocks and platforms piled high that James called the Council. It was a place where the captains and their leader would listen to reports and discuss the workings of the system. There were as many horses in the place alone as there was in the CImarron herd, all of them were males. Many looked weak and new to the scene, no doubt they had been brought to the palce after being driven from their own home.

Spuro attracted the attention of most of the horses - who were mainly mustangs, but he could see quarter horses and other captive breeds thrown in aswell - as he and James walked to the raised area. Spuro looked ahead to see the same cougar who had attacked him talking with a stallion. The stallion was a dunalino. He was enormous in build and nearly as tall as James. He had many scars over his body from years of battling, and every horse feared him and served him loyaly. He weas clearly in charge of the place.

The young stallion could overhear the conversation between the two. "Our deal was that I would provide you with all the horses you could catch, and you're the one who's not catching any," the stallion said slyly.

The mountain lion growled, annoyed. "It started when I couldn't catch them because they were strong. Now I can't catch any because I'm starving. Soon I'll waste away, and you wont be able to catch new arrivals or get rid of traitors!"

The stallion thought about it, then jumped down from his platform to talk to the cougar face to face. "Fine, I'll take this year's round up champions and the rest will be left to you. Now while you're waiting go and prey on some smaller mammals."

The cougar slunk off, snarling at Spuro as it went. "Next," shouted the stallion, retaking his higher ground. James and Spuro stepped forward together and the captain gave his leader the report from Shorty. While the flaxen was talking the dunalino eyed Spuro.

"Send him to fight another newcomer," he decided at last, "and if he wins you can personally train him, James, making up your class of six."

"Whoa, wait!" Spuro cried, "I don't even want to be here, I didn't know I was straying into your territory! I want to live as a rougue stallion, I don't want to be in a herd!"

"You will when I've finished with you," the stallion smirked. "James, take him to fight."

James bowed his head then moved Spuro away hurridly. He explained to him the rules of fighting while they walked to the arena. Spuro started to panic, he had never properly fought another horse before, and he didn't like the idea of it at all.

"No wonder you got driven out of your home if you chicken out of a good fight," James said to him sternly. "Stallions battle over land, mares and rank. You have to learn sooner or later, and if you're going to be in the attack squad then it better be sooner!"

Spuro couldn't help wondering what happened between Durango and Spirit after he left. Both could fight off a predator, both could fend off man, both were strong and cunning. They were equals, which also meant they were rivals. He hoped that their fight hadn't ended in a fatality.

"There is no referee in the fights," James explained as they watched two horses battle it out. "The ring is made up of other horses, and none of them will interfere any more than chanting for their desired winner. There are two ways to win: you kill the other horse or the other horse officially surrenders. You will lose, however, if you show any sign of mercy. The horse closest to the fight will decide if you are showing that weakness."

"You say it like mercy is a bad thing," Spuro commented, watching one of the stallions lunge at the other.

"If you die you die with honour. If you surrender you can regain your honour. If you let them get away, you are not fit to fight with us, and you are sent to Van the cougar. If you survive him then you become one of the workers."

Spuro laughed a little and asked, "Why is the painter called Van? Bit of an odd name."

"Anyway," James continued, trying to get back on topic, "the winner is rewarded, the loser is sent to be tested once more, and if he passes that he is trained again for another circuit."

One of the horses pressed his hooves into the other's side, who was on the ground. The mustang gave a loud neigh, and the stronger one released him and was announced as the winner. The ring parted to let the two horses leave and Spuro enter. James called for one of the youngsters to fight him, and a bay mustang appeared inside the ring.

Spuro had only been trained the basics. Dodging was better than defending. When attacking, keep your legs infront of you to stop them getting to your main body. Use your height and weght and never ever turn your back on them.

The bay darted towards him and Spuro leapt aside. The horse had another go and he repeatedly dodged from his way. Spuro decided to charge at him, and the horse pressed to the ground, trying to pull away. Spuro pinned him with one hoof and glared at the other horse in the eye, causing him to neigh loudly in defeat. Spuro moved away from him and was taken by James to meet the rest of the class.

"You did well," James said on their way along the valley, "some would say you had an easy opponent, but the way you dodged him was very effective. Now, while I'm training you you will do everything I say, so trust is important. I will never do anything to kill you. Yes, you may get hurt, but you will stay alive so long as I have anything to do with it, understood?"

"Yes," he replied, nodding.

"Oh, and you'll call me Sir."

Spuro sighed with frustration. "Yes, Sir."

They kept walking for a bit. Spuro was constantly surprised about how big the territory was. They were miles from the gully now, and the basin had a diameter of about a kilometer. It just went to show that they could only upkeep that amount of land if they had many, many horses. James had mentioned something about workers before, and Spuro wondered if they were more like slaves.

James stopped once they reached a piece of meadow surrounded by a fence of fir trees. The grass was long and there was sandy arena in one corner, and a pool of water in another. It seemed that there was plenty of shade, food and water in the field, even though it was small.

"This is where you will sleep, recreate and learn," James said to him, leading him to five young stallions - a bit older than Spuro - that were gathered by the pool. "The only times when you can leave here is when you are given an errand or free time, and you are to only go to the Centre unless aurthorised to go elsewhere. Now meet your class mates, all of them are competing to become part of the attack squad, and only one in six a year make it."

Five unfamiliar horses stared at Spuro. He looked at them one by one as James introduced them to him. The first was a spotted appaloosa, Harris. He looked swift and cunning, but not very strong. His legs and neck were long, but he was quite skiny.

Denver, a red dun who was about the same age as him. The dun seemed to wear a softer expression than the rest, and Spuro felt that he already had someone to talk to. There was also a red roan, Jupiter, and James explained that Denver and Jupiter were brothers. Jupiter was well named; he was nearly as big as James, and the largest of the five.

The fourth was a dappled quarter horse skilled in scouting and stealth, named Leon. He was known for his intelligence and quick thinking, but he wasn't very condfident when fighting.

Finally, there was Ghost, a champagne dun, who was titled as James' star pupil. He excelled in fighting, was as fast as a river and could track a traitor in minutes. Ghost glared at Spuro with his amber eyes, trying to intimidate the newcomer. He made it very clear through body language alone that he was in charge of the group, and no one was to cross him.

Spuro snorted and rolled his eyes at him.

"You'll start your training tomorrow, but for now, settle in and get to know your group," James said, turning away. "If you need me I'll be at the Centre."

Once James had left, Ghost jumped at Spuro and started to circle him. "Let's get something straight here," he snarled, "I'm in charge, I'm the best and you're going to do as I say."

"Oh yeah, why should I? Just because you might bully others doesn't mean I'll bend to it aswell. Now leave off!" Spuro replied. Ghost glared at him again, then trotted off on his own to find some shade.

Denver grinned at the new stallion. "Nice one!" he said, "We've been trying to get him to back off for ages!"

"Yeah," Jupiter joined in, "he's so determined it's untrue! Look at him! He thinks he owns the world!"

Harris and Leon welcomed him to the group and Spuro started asking questions that he was afraid of bringing up before. The others told him that the Band had been set up years ago when the leader's father kicked him out of the herd as a youngster, after he had been promised to one day take his place.

"I know how he feels," Spuro commented. The others didn't ask, but continued. He had gathered up other rougue stallions and fought them until he was on top, then created the system so that he could stay there. The plan was to build up the Band's fighting skill until they were strong enough to take down any herd they wanted, then split the mares between them depending on the stallion's rank and any who didn't earn a mare would stay in the Band and train nearby the leader's herd until they could attack another herd and have another crack at starting their own.

"But the twisted thing is," Denver told him quietly, "the system is also used to get rid of the competition. Wandering stallions are taken in, trained, and if they aren't broken by the promise of their own mares or the military techniques they're sent to be killed."

"By the test?" Spuro asked. They nodded.

"It's sick," Jupiter said, "having that monster live alongside us. When I was growing up countless herd emmbers were slaughtered by those things, and here they're used as pest control."

"You are tested when you are first reported to Shorty," Leon explained - and Spuro realised that it was that mad old horse that had decided to throw the cougar at him - "if you live, you're good enough to stay, and they train you for the area you're most suited for. If you surrender in the fights then you're tested again, to see if you're weak or if you just had a tough enemy. It's so hard to stay alive here that you eventually forget about making your way to the top and winning your mares."

"Even if you survive, even if you become a captain, you'll lose yourself. The only way to die as the same horse you were born as is to be killed in the test or an early battle," Harris said, looking away. "In a year there will only be one of us, and we'll probably be set to fight each other."

"And so far Ghost is the one who's going to still be around," Denver said, "that's why I'm escaping."

Harris sighed. "Not this again, Den, it's rediculous! Traitors are considered fodder for Van, you'll never make it past the Centre without being noticed. There's miles and miles of flat, open ground that will expose you like a grey in a black horse herd."

"Harris, I have no chance at surviving the test again, look at me! It's better to take the chance and run than wait until my number is called," he reasoned.

"And I may be strong and tall," Jupiter said, "but I can put my skills to a better cause than killing my own kind."

Spuro realised how desperate these horses were. This place was evil and twisted, picking out the best of the best and leaving the rest to rot. These four had opened up to him, he couldn't abandon them. For the first time in his life Spuro actually felt some responsability for someone else. "Look," he said, "I never wanted to come here, so I can sympathise with you wanting to leave. But it's not going to be that easy. Denver and Jupiter, if you really want to leave, I'll help you, but the more who want to escape the harder it's going to be. If you two are the only ones that desperate to leave then you might just be able to manage it. Me? I'll stay here, I need to learn how to defend myself from horses like Ghost. But until we're facing each other in the arena, we're all friends, right?"

"Right," they all agreed.

James woke Spuro up earlier than the others in the morning. "We need to talk about your routine," he said, and took the youngster to the pool. He led him into the water, Spuro still yawning, and splashed him with huge waves of water.

"Yah!" Spuro yelled, "That's freezing, what are trying to do, kill me?"

"You're filthy, you need a wash," James said.

"No I don't," he argued, "I'm fine. So what if I've got some mud on my coat, it doesn't matter!"

"Fine," grinned the stallion, "do it your way. You'll wash and groom yourself properly once you've learnt the reasons behind it. Now listen up. The group is woken at the rise of the sun and train all day, which means that in winter you have longer to rest but less time to yourself, and in summer you have to work longer but not as hard since you wont be able to rest as much. Everything balances out here.

"You will get breaks to graze throughout the day but they wont be long, so spend less time gabbing and more time refilling your energy. You can drink whenever you want, but if you're using it as an excuse to not work you will be banned from the pool for three days. You should take your own time to socialise with the other members of the Band, either in your field or in the Centre. However, if you go into the Centre, be warned - if you are challenged by another herdy then you must accept or face the test.

"Your day ends when the moon appears on the plane's horizon, except for clear skied new moons when the night is used for testing your abilities in scouting exercises, and on those days you will train in the morning, have an extended break, a short free time and several hours to sleep before the work. Have you got all of that?"

Spuro nodded, knowing that he had missed a few things, but he could ask the group later on. He shreiked in surprise and pain as something seemed to stab his shoulder, and he set about itching it. "Ticks," James laughed, "that's why you wash. Now get yourself clean before you're sucked dry!"

By sunrise Spuro's coat was the cleanest it had been in years, and the rest of the group joined him for a drink at the pool. James told the others to practice defencive and offencive moves in turns while he began Spuro's training. They began with choosing a comfortable fighting style.

"Defence is the basis of fighting, so here are the main postures," James told him, demonstrating, "low, quick-footed, alert and strong. When using the low posture your enemy can't get at your neck, belly or legs, but it's compromised because you can't move very far. If you are using the quick-footed one then you can step aside easily, just like you did yesterday. Alert is a very open stance, since you expose your neck and chest but you have all your senses pinned on what your opponent is doing. I don't reccomend it, personally. Fianlly, strong, where you hold your own and could take the weight of the other animal even if they slammed their bodyweight into you. But that one comes with training. Find one that you like and we'll focus on it." Spuro tried a few of them out with James trotting towards him, and decided to stick with quick-footed.

"The quick-foot defence means that you have to stay on your toes, so your attacks have to be fast and supple. To fight the low defence, attack the lower back repeatedly and stay behind where they can't reach you. Try it on me, I'll go easy on you," James said, smiling and moving into position.

Spuro circled him in a canter and pawed at the stallion's back while continuing to move with him. "Good," James said, standing up. "Now then, when two horses have the same fighting techniques things start to come down to practice, endurance and luck. You have to be an expert in your own field because the other horse will know it as well as you do. In quick-foot double, don't make darting moves. Instead, keep your position and strike out with your legs. If you can back them up against the barrier you've got them."

Again, they tried it out, as well as the first. "An alert horse will be one step ahead of you every time, since they tend to be the intelligent ones for the scout squad. But that doesn't mean that they are good fighters. Work them out, if they are weak, go for the attack in any other style. If they are strong, take up your defencive position until they are in the open, then dodge around them and find their weak spot, every horse has one. Those fights take time but they are a work out fot the mind as well as the body. We wont practice that one, you can try it out with Leon and sometimes Harris will try it too."

"Could you tell me the styles of the rest of the group?" Spuro asked.

James laughed. "You'll learn soon enough, that comes with experience, like everything else here. You're not just going to get it thrown at you. Now, then, strong. Stay well back from them and always be defencive. There are few horses who opt for this technique but they do exist. They will not move unless they are fighting back. Your best bet is to know their weak spot from sight or memory or you'll loose every battle. Keep attacking that spot, and make sure you defend yourself properly. Now, try it with me. Let's say my shoulder is the weak spot - it's awkwardly close to my head and legs, but it's a simple exercise."

Spuro tried it a few times before giving up. James told him that it was a difficult one to master, but at least he could train with Ghost. "No," Spuro replied, "absolutely not! He'll kill me without a second thought!"

"All the more reason why he's my star pupil," James chuckled. "You could be like him one day, if you worked hard enough. I know he's a bully, but just because you can fight it doesn't make you a bad person. Look at me! I've killed horses in my time but they're giving me youngsters to train."

Spuro went quiet. "And what does it feel like, killing I mean?"

James looked down. "You feel sick," he murmured, "but you would rather kill another than suffer their fate. The will to survive is strong, and only the best will succeed, that's one of our mottos here."

Over the day Spuro began building up his experience and skill in the arena and was eager to have a friendly fight with one of the others. When they had their longest break he asked Harris if he wanted to have a practice at it. The appaloosa shrugged and said, "Why not?", so they walked over to the dusty patch in the corner.

Spuro could see from first glances that Harris was a quick-footer like himself. The slim stallion was a good runner and bended easily round corners, but he didn't seem as strong as Spuro. The opponent didn't move, so it was clear that he was defending. Spuro walked closer to him, and tried going around him, but the horse kept moving too. Finally Spuro saw what he was looking for.

The back leg was slightly lame, the hip was the weak spot. So he dived the other way around the horse and started knocking into the hind quarter with his shoulder. Harris spun round, but Spuro followed, continuing to beat at him.

"Ok, Spuro, you win," Harris said.

"Really? Just like that?"

"Well, no, not just like that in propper training or a battle, but we don't want to hurt each other just yet. You found my weakness like you would with a quick-foot, so I would have lost if you were really having a good go at me! But hey, if James knows I'm weak he'll rank me down soor all time's sake, could we keep this quiet?" he said.

Spuro agreed then began rolling in the grass. It had been days since he'd rolled in soft, moist grass, and he'd missed this piece of freedom. Freedom. He sighed and sat back up. He had set out to live as a rougue, but here he was in a batchelor herd with a cruel, unbeatable system and the toughest horses in the West. That thing called freedom seemed so far away now, and his home's rules for safety and fairness felt like a paradise compared to the brutality of the Band. But if he could get to the top, prove hisself, he could run free, and even though he wasn't interested in mares fully yet, one day he would want a small herd of his own.

He figured that things might not be that bad if he really knuckled down to get to a higher position. It would be worth his while if he stuck with it, but that didn't mean that he'd break his promise to Denver and Jupiter, he would get them out by the end of the circuit, and that was twelve months away - plenty of time to think up a plan.

Four months passed as Spuro built himself up in the Band. His basic skills were up to scratch and James had taught him other moves including types of kicks, rears and dodges. He had caught up so fast that he could join in the practice fights in the dusty circle, which was much easier for everyone since there were now six of them battling it out for glory.

Spuro's main opponents included Harris, Leon and Denver, and he often won. He made mistakes along the way, such as missing an oppotunity or not watching where his enemy's mouth or legs were while attacking, but generally he excelled. The two horses he had to really work at was Jupiter and Ghost.

The red and champagne horses trained against each other, sometimes stretching their fights out for hours on end. Ghost was by far the best of the young stallions, but Jupiter's sheer size and weight kpet him in the game. He was never injured in his life because he was so strong, so he had no known weakspot.

The other horses would admire their fighting as they enjoyed their break, but the warriors never gave in until one of them surrendered. They didn't play fight, either. They truely kicked, bit and bruised each other in the name of honour.

A new moon was nearing with no clouds and the training began for tracking, scouting and survivaly skills. Denver warned Spuro that it was every horse for himself, and it was used as another way to separate the able from the worthless. If you got lost, or hurt or were attacked - you were on your own.

"It's the perfect oppotunity for you to escape!" Spuro whispered to him one break. They were grazing together under the shade of a fir tree. Over the months they had grown closer than the other horses. Ghost was as steely as ever, Leon felt out of place and Harris was exhuasting himself by over training, but he was still falling behind. Jupiter would sometimes join in the talk, but overall he had become dedicated to training. The roan was determined to beat Ghost in a fight by the end of the winter. But now the autumn was coming to a close, the barren planes looked grey and stretched, and he felt that his deadline was impossible to reach.

Denver shook his head. "Have you seen it out there? It would take days of running to find cover, and at this time of the year there's little food and the weather is unpredictable."

"You have to try, who knows when this oppotunity will come around again," Spuro replied.

Denver sighed. "I don't know Spuro, at first I was up for it, but now Jupe seems bent on defeating Ghost and I don't think he'd leave any more. He's been broken, and Harris and Leon never supported the idea from the start. I can't go on my own, and even if you volunteered it wouldn't be the same as leaving with my brother."

"I hate to say it, Den, but it's your freedom or nothing. If you stayed with him thne you would one day be split up. He'll go into one division, you in another, or Van would see one of you again. Take the chance while your mind is still free, so your body can join it." Spuro's words seemed to stirr something in the dun. Determination? A promise? Pure logic? Spuro could only guess, but his heart leapt when his friend replied with;

"Let's do it."

Their plan was to team up on the mission and scout as far as they could without being collared. They would find a ditch to hide in and wait until the others had done back to the Centre to be counted, and Denver would run. Spuro would return with the story that a puma attacked and they were spilt up, the cat running after Denver and that he didn't hear from him ever again.

The night arrived, crisp and clear like the first night Spuro was on his own. They were counted at the Centre before being led off to their part of the plane. In twos, the horses spread out and searched for the markers that had been scattered. Spuro knew that he ought to try to succeed in the exam, but to him helping his friend was more important. So they headed far out along the plane and hid in a muddy trench.

"Alright, Denver, this is where we part," Spuro whispered, checking that they weren't being followed or watched. "All the luck in the world."

"I couldn't have done this without you Spuro," his friend smiled, and galloped into the distance. It was that easy? Something at the back of his mind told him not to expect a good result, but Spuro pushed it away and spend the rest of the night 'searching' for the markers. He found one before the sun's light appeared over the horizon, and then he headed back to the centre.

"28, 29-" James stopped. Denver was missing. "Number 30? Number 30?" Strange. Still, he had to report it. "Sir, number 30, red dun by the name of Denver, is missing from the count."

The dunalino searched along the lines of horses and noticed the gap. "Does anyone know where number 30, Denver, it?" he announced to the youngsters.

"I do," replied a single voice. The horses turned to see that it was Spuro who answered. "We were scouting together on the boarder when a cougar attacked us. It went after him and he ran for his life, never seen a horse bolt like it, Sir. I waited but I heard nothing from him. I- I don't think he's going to return." He hung his head low, a sort of bow-cross-emotional display.

"Liar," a voice said aloud. It was Ghost. "I saw the two on the boarder. Denver ran off, a traitor, Sir, and Spuro helped him."

"Not true!" Spuro shouted back. He had to persuade himself that Denver had been chased off - otherwise he could let it slip. If he could conquer his own mind, then everyone else's would follow. "He could be dead and you're tainting his name by calling him a traitor!"

The leader simply watched with amusement. He had no idea which was telling the truth, but if he got another fight out of it in the process then it would entertain him for the morning. The other horses were already moving out of line to see what was going on, and some were beginning to form a ring around the two.

James could see where it was going. Spuro would never survive a fight with Ghost, not yet at least. "You're the traitor!" Ghost snarled. "Fight me, the winner speaks true."

"That's enough!" James commanded, separating the two. "This is a formal exercise, and it will not be ruined by a fight. A scout team can be sent later on, but for now you will keep training and only test your strength against each other under my supervision." He glared at Ghost. "Understood?"

Once the horses had been sent back to their areas, Jupiter pulled Spuro aside. "Listen you, what really happened out there?" he demanded, pressing the chestnut into the dirt wall.

"I told you," he choked back, "a cougar chased him. I'm sorry. But he might be alright, he might be able to make it back."

"Denver always spoke of escaping," Jupiter whispered, "but I never thought he would leave without me."

"He wouldn't have if he had the choice. Please, he was my best friend, I know how you're feeling. Now let me go."

The roaned mustang moved away from the smaller stallion and they walked back to the field together. They were given the morning off to recover from the night's work, then training began again. Spuro couldn't help but feel that it was only a matter of time before someone found him out, and that if Denver had made it out of the territory he would be tracked faster than he could make it home.

Home. He began thinking of his own, how his mother woud be heartbroken, how either his father or grandfather was now the lead stallion, and how he would never see his childhood friends again. He even thought of his sister, and how he had been so unfair to her. If he ever made it out of the Band, he would find her somehow and apologise for everything he had done. But Spuro never guessed how a little bit of home would find it's way back to him.

There was two months to go before the trails, and Leon had been switched to a scouting class. He was weak in the arena and James had spoken with his boss about how such an intelligent animal would be wasted if he was allowed to be torn apart in the arena. So after a sad farewell Leon's chances were improved, and although he would have to start the circuit all other again after the exams, he was at the top of his own league. Denver hadn't been replaced since he was considered to have gone AWOL, and it was possible that he would one day return. But another horse was brought in to replace Leon, and Spuro couldn't believe his eyes.

He and Harris were drinking at the lake in the Centre when two officers of the defence brought in a new horse. He was a grullo and roughly the same age as Spuro. He felt he ought to know the horse, but he couldn't think why. "I'm going to see about this newcomer," he told Harris, and trotted off to the Council. He squeezed between two older mustangs and watched the report from the sidelines, noticing that James was standing on one of the platforms below and to the right of the leader's.

"From this year's round-up Sir," the officer projected, "managed to keep going on his own since then. He only just managed to pass the test. He'd be good for the work force, but Shorty still thinks that he could fight well if he was tutored - since Captain James has an opening."

Jame shook his head. "There's barely enough time to teach him the basics, he'd be killed!"

The leader examined him from the distance and asked, "If given the choice, would you rather risk fighting, or face the test again? You're too good for work, and all who have no place are sent back to Van."

"I tought myself to fight as a colt," the horse whimpered, "I can learn in the time given."

Satisfied, the dunalino sent the newcomer to James' field, much to the captain's annoyance. Spuro made his way back to Harris and told him about their new class mate.

"It's rediculous!" the appaloosa cried, "James knows what he's talking about when he says he won't pass the arenas in the summer! Come on, let's get Jupe. Maybe he'll train him up a bit to give the poor lad a better chance."

They wandered over to the arenas, which were already full of stallions battling it out and honing their skills for their exams. There could only be two winners in each class, and after that only one of them would make it to become an officer. Any who surrendered or showed mercy would be sent to Van straight away to be tested, then trained for another circuit or moved to the workforce.

Jupiter was busy fighting an older horse, with a week's worth of breaks as the stakes. As they watched from the back rows, they saw their roan rear up and strike the enemy in the face. "Ouch," Spuro said as the horse resorted to a low defence, which set Jupiter onto attacking the quarter horse's back. The old stallion neighed in a surrender, adn Jupiter trotted out of the circle, tail held high in victory.

"Nice going, Jupe," Spuro grinned, "and those stakes could be used well."

"What are you talking about?" the horse sighed, taking a bite of grass. Over the months Spuro, Harris and Leon had watched their old friend lose his character and become a fighter. Sometimes he would ignore them altogether. Spuro wondered if the disappearance of his brother had contributed to the giant's new attitude, but they all agreed that the competition with Ghost had hardened him and removed any morals about using his skills for good that he originally had.

"Well, we've got a new class mate," Spuro explained, starting to wonder if it was such a good idea after all, "and since there's only two months to go before the trials we were wondering - you being the strongest fighter of us all - if you'd help him catch up a bit in your free time."

The roan snorted at them. "Why would I do that? I'd get nothing out of it but more competition, and I'd lose my own breaks because of him?"

"But you could train with him," Harris suggested.

But Jupiter wasn't having it. "I need serious competition, not a squirming yearling. That's why I'm spending my breaks here at the Centre, and challenging other stallions for the grand prize. I'll train and advance up the ladder at the same time. I'm dedicated to this place, and once I'm at the top I'll make sure everyone is putting as much effort in as me, starting with you two!"

He cantered off, leaving the duo feeling depressed and saddened. It seemed that they had lost an ally. To take their minds off it, they had a race back to the field to talk to the new mustang, mybe he could replace Jupiter, even if he wasn't as bold as him.

To no surprise the first thing they saw was Ghost intimidating the grullo. Spuro told the bully to suck a pine cone, and they walked up to the horse to say hello. Spuro's eyes met with the newcomer. "Bramble?" he whispered.

"Spuro?" he replied. They gawped at each other for a moment then started babbling about what happened all those months ago. Harris introduced himself and they spent the rest of the day grazing together. Spuro was deep in thought - that fact that it was Bramble changed everything. He couldn't let his friend be killed in the trials, it wasn't right. But what choice did he have?

So over the final few weeks Bramble was trained up to fight. James focused on defence mainly, knowing that the poor horse would be likely to face Van more times than a rival. Spuro and Harris continued to train with each other, and Spuro continued to win. It was clear now that Harris was behind, and the spotted stallion slowly ceased up and didn't talk at all, which left Spuro feeling more depressed than ever. Harris was preparing to be sent to Van, and Bramble was practically counting down the days until he would meet his maker. Jupiter and Ghost had the best chances in the class, so where did that leave him? That was the scariest part - uncertainty. Anything could happen between now and then, and it was just down to luck if he was going to make it or not.

Still, he could easily fight off the cougar again if he had to, and another two years of training would just improve him further. But he still sought after freedom, and the only way he could taste it was to work his way up the rankings. If he could become an officer he would be in with a chance to move up to a captain. Yet the problem still remained - Jupiter and Ghost were sure to win the trails for their class.

But luck showed up, in a way Spuro would never have suspected.

He was at the arenas, alone, when Jupiter appeared once more in the ring. The stallion looked throught he crowd, searching for a worthy opponent. "Captain James, I challenge you!" the roan shouted. James looked up suddenly. Had he heard it right? Was the pupil trying to become the master? It was madness. Still, he obeyed their laws and joined his student in the ring.

"You're insane, Jupiter," he told him squarely, "You're a brilliant fighter but a stubborn one. I can't help but warn you that you've bitten off more than you can chew."

"The stakes?," Juptier asked.

"If I win, I'll be sad to see such a talented horse beaten into the dust."

"And if I win," the red giant announced, "I take your place as Captain of Defence and Offence!"

Spuro pushed his way to the front. This couldn't be happening, Jupiter had lost his mind. He could see on James' face how much it would hurt him if he had to kill one of his best pupils, but the rules were set, and teh fight began.

James took up a strong defence and Jupiter charged at him. They clashed and started kicking and biting each other. James shoved the young mustang off him and jumped on top of him, but Jupiter struck him with his powerful legs and sent him back while he rolled over to stand up. James stayed where he was, anticipating the next move. The roan charged at him again, but James changed his style and dodged his attacks reppeatedly, tiring the eager enemy.

Jupiter held his position, rearing, displaying his strength. James' experience saw the oppotunity though, and he rushed forward to attck his chest. Jupiter fell back to the ground and lay there, winded, as his tutor pinned him. James kept pressing onto his chest, and shouted, "Surrender already! I don't want to kill you, but I have to if you don't!"

The roan laughed hoarsely, "I'd rather die with honour, and that's what you told me. If you can't kill me you're weak!"

Spuro left before he saw too much. He ran straight back to the field to see which one would return. He knew Jupiter's attitude, and that meant that the brute wouldn't surrender. His fights were to the death if he was losing. He would rather be remembered as a strong, powerful animal, than one that gave in because they made a mistake when choosing who to fight. As dusk fell, James appeared through the trees - alone. Harris and Bramble were now waiting with their friend, too, and they all knew what it meant.

When the others were asleep, Spuro went to talk with James. He felt for the stallion, he really did. He admired Jupiter and yet he was the one to end his life. It must have been horrible, but Spuro knew that one day he would experience the same sensation of being a monster.

"Why do you think he wanted to die, instead of surrendering?" he asked quietly, standing alongside the mighty horse.

"If you live because you gave in, only you remember yourself because you were weak. If you die because you would never back down, hundreds remember you as the one who never gave up. A lot of horses here follow that legacy, but if you want to survive you have to train harder than them. That way, everybody wins." The flaxen giant looked at the stars, thinking of his first year.

"My parents had been set free from a human base by a stallion. My father was a quarter horse, used for fighting, my mother was a cart horse, used for delivering supplies. I was born in the wild and my mother died when I was only a few months old. My father trained me for two years before he, too, died. They were captive animals you see, they didn't know how to survive without the help of man. So, at just three years of age I wandered, until I was taken in by our leader. I excelled at fighting because of my father's training and so I over took the horses who were here at the time. By the time I was four I was already a captain."

"Why are you telling me this?" Spuro asked.

"Because I believe that you'll go far, Spuro," the stallion replied, looking at him gently, "and you're the one I'll be rooting for at the trials."

At last the day arrived when the four youngsters would face each other in the trials. All of them were nervous, although Ghost was doing a great cool-headed impression. James woke them up early and explained the trials to them on the way to the Centre.

"Unlike other fights, there is an officer or captain watching to keep an eye out for mercy, cheating and dirty fighting. You have only one available surrender, any moe than that will result in disqualification. You will only fight two of the horses in your class. The two with the most wins will be sent to battle each other in the final, and the losers will be disqaulified and tested again by Van. If you pass you join the workers. In the final the winner will be promoted to an officer, and the loser - assuming he has saved his surrender for the final fight - will be allowed to take another year of training and try again next time. Got all that?"

The horses looked between each other. It was an impossible thing to so - they had to fight their friend and win, or face the consequences themselves. Spuro remembered one of the earliest things he had been told; "The will to survive is strong." He wasn't going to give in so easily. And as for Ghost, well, he had to sort him out once and for all.

As they entered the Centre Spuro stared at the vast number of stallions gathered there. It looked like the whole Band was there. Already rings had been formed all over the grass, and losers were being escorted away to the gully to be tested by the every hungry cougar.

"Alright, boys," James sighed, joining the crowd of a circle, "we'll have Harris and Ghost up first."

Ghost pushed his way to the front and Harris trailed behind, ears flat, head low, looking back at Bramble and Spuro, mouthing 'Goodbye'. James moved to the front too to referee the battle, and the two horses followed to watch, full of curiosity and also dread. The fight was over quickly, and Harris used up his surrender.

"What did you do that for? You still had a chance!" Spuro said.

Harris shook his head. "I had no chance against him, he's too strong. Mind youselves with him."

"Bramble, you're up with Spuro!" James shouted.

They looked at each other, and stepped into the ring. They never broke eye contact, and just stood there for a minute, until James told them to fight or be disqualified. Spuro edged towards his friend, who got low on the ground. Spuro jumped him and started pawing heavily at his hind quarters, getting slowly harder. He had to think of something, and quick. Bramble tried to snap at him, but the attack was feeble and he missed by a long shot. Spuro was on the verge of having to beat him, when Bramble neighed in a surrender.

He leapt back, and helped his friend stagger to his feet. "I'm sorry," he whispered, "I couldn't think of what to do!"

"It's alright, Spuro," Bramble smiled, "I'm going to let Ghost finish me off. At least he wont tear me apart like Van would."

"That's crazy-"

"I've got no other option."

Ghost was called into the arena again ans Spuro was sent off, but he held  back for a moment. "Remember how you fight strong horses, Bramble. Find his weak spot, attack it, but keep out of his way. And for goodness sake defend youself well, and never use the low stance again!"

Bramble entered the ring, trembling. Ghost was frothing and snarling at him all the time, so he stayed back. The champagne stallion charged at him, and he stepped aside, carefully watching his movements, searching for that weak spot. He had to have one, just just had to!

The enemy leapt at him and caught his neck, dragging him to the ground. Bramble wasn't completely hopeless; he bounced back up on his hind legs and attacked Ghost's belly. Spuro watched with horror on the side lines. He couldn't watch his best friend end like this, but it was what he had chosen, and looking away now would be like abandoning him. He carried on watching, heart pounding, hoping it would be over quickly.

Spuro was called up against Harris, who surrendered again. He looked at James for conformation of the decision. "You do realise, Harris, that if that is your final choice, you will face the test."

"Yes, and it's my choice. I'm not going to make my friend kill me, let the mangy wild cat eat!" he shouted back, almost proud. Spuro let go of him and whispered a quick goodbye. But there was a problem - it meant that he had to fight Ghost.

He had never trained against him, and didn't know what to expect. At least he couldn't cheat, but that didn't stop his strength. Harris had told him during Bramble's fight that he couldn't find a weak spot on him, even by looking closely. So Spuro was on the verge of collapsing when he met Ghost in the centre of the arena for the first time.

As soon as James gave the all clear, Ghost bolted at him. Spuro stepped aside just in time, and kept dodging his bursts of speed. His mind kept going over what Harris had told him. "He has no weak spot, Spuro." The dun went for him again. Spuro leapt out of the way, but the opponent managed to rip out some of his mane anyway.

He doesn't have a weak spot, he doesn't have a weak spot! he kept saying to himself. As he dodged once more something clicked inside of his head. "I know your weak spot," he said to Ghost, who was standing and panting on the other side of the circle.

"What?" he laughed, "I don't have one. I am the strongest of this year's stallions! There isn't a place in my body that would give in!"

Spuro shook his head and carried on moving. "You don't even know you have it," he said, giving a sneaky kick to Ghost's backside as he hurtled past. "But I do. I can tell it's there."

Ghost stopped for a moment. He was confused by his enemy's words. He snarled. "If this was a battle of words you would win, but it's not, and I am going to beat you to a pulp!"

"You mean if it was a battle of wits, good looks and intelligence," Spuro joked, jumping aside. "Look at yourself! You're pathetic! You left your home because you thought you were big and clever! You thought you could live as you pleased and do what you like to others without consequences!"

Ghost rammed into him and sent the chestnut sprawling on the floor. He rollod over and got up quickly as the dun slammed his front hooves into ground where he had been a second ago. "Somebody who acts like that stands alone, and they will surely fail!" he shouted, cantering around the endge of the circle continuously.

Ghost was starting to hesitate in his attacks. How could Spuro know so much about him? He hadn't told anyone about his past, and it was as if the cocky little chestnut had read his mind and broadcasted his personality. Ghost was turning things over in his head when something pushed him to the ground. Spuro had leapt onto him when he saw him let his guard down, and he was now biting and pounding him as much as he could to wear the beast down.

Ghost pushed him off and Spuro moved back to the other side of the circle. "Not so mighty now, are you?"

The dun glared at him. "How could you tell about my past?" he croaked.

"Easy," Spuro said, shrugging, "I used to be like that too. But when I arrived here I saw that I had no power over the rest of the world, I saw that if I had to do no work for others I wouldn't get any rewards. I realised that to have freedom, you need rules and responsability, and that's why I never felt free at home. The two go together, just like how you can't ahve good without evil. If you weren't here, I wouldn't be either, because I would have been fighting Jupiter, since he wouldn't have lost his mind and gambled his life away."

He walked over to the stunned horse and whispered. "Surrender, Ghost, you can't beat me. I may not have the best physical abilities like you, but that doesn't mean I don't know how to fight. I've found your only weakspot, and unless you give up now, I'll attack until it kills you."

Ghost shuddered. There was no way that he could fight Spuro without making a mockery of himself in the process. "I surrender," he said.

It was the beginning of a new a new year of training. The midsummer baked the empty plane for miles around, but the stallions of the Band had all the food and water they needed. Spuro was getting to know his class of twenty youngsters before they started training. "Good relations provide good understanding of team work," he said, "and if you've got an enemy, if there's someone here you don't like, let them know about it - good and personal."

He saw James approaching from the coner of his eye. He excused himself and went to see what the captain wanted. "I was just curious to see what sort of students you have for your first class," he said, "after all your best five will be coming to me."

"I am the first officer of offence," Spuro grinned.

"Keep up the good work, Spur," James smiled, and left to check on his own horses.

After a morning of training the class was given a break and Spuro went to the lake to drink. He looked at his reflection in the water and thought about how far he'd come in just a year, how much he'd acheived.

"Spuro?" a familiar voice said from behind him.

He turned to see a dapple grey quarter horse standing proudly infront of him. "Leon!"

"That's Officer Leon, to you," he laughed. "It's great to see you! I heard you completely whooped Ghost in the trials, huh?"

"Yeah, they'll be talking about it for generations to come," he joked.

"It would be great to get the whole band back together," Leon sighed, looking at the water. "I heard what happened with Jupiter, and I know that the boy who took my place was killed as well. And a few months ago we found a horse skeleton in a forest to the North. It could only be-"

"Denver?"

Leon nodded sadly. "So it looks like it's just us now."

"We'll remember them," Spuro replied, his confidence evident in his tone, "and with honour too."

The two friends grazed by the lake until it was time to return to their classes. On his way back, Spuro wondered what would happen next. Surely becoming an officer wasn't the highest he could get. James believed in him, he had said it himself. Now that he was here, things could only get easier. Officers only fought in challenges, weekly training and when a new captain was needed, but even that was much less than being a pupil. Just before he returned to the youngsters, he vowed to himself that he would find his freedom and reach the top. So long as he had anything to do with it, the Band would one day be a happier place for young stallions, not the twisted prison it was now.

"Right then, everyone up, we're going to have a little chat about mind battles."