to be flying.

I shot up from my sleep. It was the early morning, the sky lilac and baby blue behind the golden sun. I turned my head to see the blackened remains of my home, still smoking and turning the fresh air acrid. As I looked around I recognised the faces of the other horses, all sleeping soundly after the night's events. The humans looked fragile and cold, but they managed by curling up next to the horses. Funny. Man and animal could team up when it came to survival. I spotted the colonel at the back, his hat over his face, fast asleep. Durango was laying next to him.

Durango.

He had saved me, I knew that simple fact. But, according to what he said yesterday, he hated me. Then I remembered. "I love you, Jade." Those words, the words that made me run, made me jump, made me live. But was it just talk? Did he really feel that way about me?

I pushed my bodyweight onto my legs. They trembled. I was still weak. But I had enough energy to walk over to Durango and flop down by his side. I lay my head on his back and closed my eyes. After a few minutes he stirred and I moved to his face. We didn't need to say anything, the apology from both sides had already been accepted.

After a while he told me that he said those horrible things to me because he was scared. Last time he loved someone he lost them forever, and I knew who he meant by that, the filly from his childhood, and he wanted to detach himself from me so that if anything happened to me in battle his heart wouldn't be broken again.

"I was a coward, and I disappointed you."

I told him that he could never disappoint me, and that I understood why he did it. From that moment on, we had a mental connection, we could predict each other's feelings and thoughts and could openly discuss them together. I knew this was a big step for him, because either of us could still be killed, last night was a good example of what life could throw at you. And still he would take the risk for the overwhelming benefits of loving me. I smiled, and we fell asleep intertwined.

When we woke again everyone else was up and about. The base had been split into four groups, one would rebuild a basic camp from the remains and whatever they could find nearby. Another group rode down the supply track to inform carts of the situation and then follow on to the town to collect extra provisions. A third went on a trip looking for a natural water source and some shade. Our quarter, however, set off South Easterly in search of a train track.

I asked Durango what a train was. he described it as a giant metal machine that ran on steam that was capable of carrying many things. He believed that it would one day replace horses in the human world. The machines had to run on tracks though, and the nearest one to the base was many miles away.

We cantered for most of the journey, and along the way I saw more and more foliage and grass until we were riding in an open green space. We all stretched into a gallop, and I pushed myself to the front, Durango by my side. it was the first time I had seen such an expanse of plants, the closest I had been for the past months were the battered old pastures with the odd piece of scrub. But now, to run through a valley covered in flora was like heaven to me. I relished every second of it. It's true what they say, you don't appreciate something until it is taken away from you.

We slowed back down to a marching walk and the scenery suddenly changed around me. Ahead, a little further down a hill, was the reminisce of a village. The torn animal skins and destroyed wooden weapons told me that this place belonged to a different kind of man. My humans built everything in great size and used everything they could see. but this looked so tiny in comparison. Skeletons of cone shaped buildings stood, come of them already collapsing. Some logs were charred on the ground, but damp and rotten. Whatever had happened here it happened many years ago. I looked around in awe and sadness.

My sadness turned to fury. I asked Durango who did this to the people, and he said they did, and gestured his head to the soldiers. As I stared at my masters in disgust he saw my expression. he told me not to be surprised, who did I think the war was against? Our owners wanted the land of the West, and they would do anything, even fight the natives, to get to it. But surely you don't agree with it, I asked. He didn't answer.

I've never thought he did. maybe he just felt too ashamed to continue talking about it. I know I would have.

We continued walking until we came to the river on the other side of the village. The soldiers dismounted and found some axes that were left behind and began to chop at some nearby trees. The horses lazed around and gorged on the lush grass through the afternoon until the men finished cutting and began to role the trunks up to the river. I watched them with interest and studied how the human mind worked to solve puzzles like this. Horses can't use tools, and the river looked to fierce for even me to swim across, so I have no idea how I would have done it. Maybe that was the advantage the humans had over the animals, they just had the right bodies to take over.

The boys turned the trunks so that the round ends were in line with the riverbank. Then they trusted the logs forward so that they reached the other side of the river. They tied our side of the logs together with some rope and a few of them crossed gingerly to tie up the other ends. Once several of them could stand on it at once without it giving way, they began moving the horses over the logs to the other bank. I have to say, I was impressed.

By the time everyone was across and they had hauled the bridge over to our side (presumably preventing it from being washed away) we were all tired and aching, but we weren't far from the track so we walked on. It was warm and cloudy, we all hoped for rain but none came. The skies simply teased us. Finally, as we reached the base of another hill, there it was. A wide, metal track that stretched from both horizons and out of sight. My mind could not get over how long it must have been, and how humans had managed to construct it. No wonder the bridge had seemed an easy task.

We waited about and eventually fell asleep. I was woken just before dawn and a few spots of rain were beginning to fall. By chance I looked North to where the track came into view, and there was something there. It was like a cloud, growing bigger and bigger. As it got closer I realised that it was steam and the inky monster emerging from the vanishing point was the train.

The night before, a trio of soldiers had ridden further down each side of the track with a red piece of cloth salvaged from the village ruins and tied it to a branch. The train saw this and slowed to a stop just short of our party. The colonel had heard it coming and was already addressing the driver.

"The United States Army needs this vehicle for transportation purposes in a desperate matter. Our camp has been destroyed and we have no supplies to survive on. There animals need moving to a base where they can be cared for and we need materials to rebuild." the colonel announced, much to the shock of the train driver.

The train driver lifted his cap slightly and sighed. "We have three compartments spare, Sir, but not enough for all of you. We're heading to Gunnison for parts, we can drop you off there if it's where you're heading. But we don't leave for ten days, we need repairs you see."

The colonel considered this. He would have to leave behind around half the group, and then they would be stranded in the town for over a week unless another train came along. And it could be a while until they could transport the other horses to a stable by train.

He mulled it over, thinking of where Gunnison was. It was famed for gold mines and was fairly quiet in the summer because of the heat. Nearby was the Gunnison Gorge. A memory triggered, one of a great stallion leaping the gorge with an Indian on his back. It was from that horse that the colonel learnt to respect the spirit of the wild, which cannot always be tamed. But they had galloped off into the distance, and somewhere on the other side of that canyon was the tribe. If he could get to it...

The colonel accepted the ride and began selecting the best of the best to come with him. naturally, we were to go. Luckily, so was Private Jones. I was fond of that boy, he was so young, but he had grown into a man the night before. His fear of horses was gone and I was proud of him. Yet I didn't let myself get attached, I had learnt that lesson already.

Two chestnuts, seven or eight bays, a grey and another sorrel came with us. Among the riders there were Withens and Hopkins, two soldiers who I was a little uncomfortable with. The rest of the men I didn't know aside from a couple of faces. The colonel ordered the rest back to camp and to meet up here again with more supplies in three days and wait for a train to Gunnison.

There was something in the colonel's eye that I didn't like the look of, greed or slyness, something like that. But I knew he was up to something, and it wasn't good. I couldn't help feeling that as I boarded the train I was being sent off into a war.

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Part 3 Teaser:

I felt the weight of the colonel lift from my back. He was out of the saddle, I knew it but I kept running. I hated the gunshots, I hated the humans, I just wanted to be free.

There was a shrill neigh of pain and I recognised it in a second. I swerved, and headed straight for Durango. He was on his side, Jones scrabbling to