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,