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