pain and I recognised it in a second. I swerved, and headed straight for Durango. He was on his side, Jones scrabbling to his feet and patting his side for his gun. A native was advancing with an axe. I screamed for Durango, I thought he was going to be killed. But instead the darker human went straight for Jones, not harming him but warning him off. I hurried to Durango's side and whispered, "I love you."

As they had with me, those words gave him strength. I let him lean on me and I half walked, half trotted away from the scene, Durango staggering along side, trying to keep in pace with me. Once we were far away enough he fell to the ground again. I checked his wound. The bullet had hit him in the flank, not the most vital of body parts like the chest or neck, but enough to restrict his movements, which was bad news for a horse. I could tell already that even if he healed his army days would be over.

I pressed myself against the ground and was thankful of our colours. My golden pelt and his ginger and brown coat helped us to blend in with the surroundings. I waited and watched the battle with utter dread until dusk, then I saw the remains of the cavelry lollop up the hill and out of view. I managed to glimpse the colonel sitting on a bay behind Priavte Hopkins. He was clutching his arm.

I continued waiting until the sky went dark blue and filled with dancing stars. I had another look over Durango's wound. The bleeding had stopped but he was weak and shivvering. I glanced around. The land was flat and open, not the kind of place predators like cougars hung around. I decided to leave him and get help in the village, so I stood up and galloped towards the shape of the tents.

The village was a mess. Bodies of both white and dark humans lay around, with odd horse. I shuddered and tried not to recognise them. At least I hadn't mingled with the other animals very well in the army. A thought struck me. I was free. Humans no longer owned me. Still, that made no difference, I couldn't go home.

I heard crying and poked my head inside a tent. There was a woman crying with her head down, a man was lying on a bead, stained in blood. I had seen enough and withdrew my head. As I wondered about some more I was relieved to see that there were no bodies of men I knew, that meant that Jones had got away. And Hopkins, Withens and Fundro. I smiled a little, but it seemed disrespectful to look happy in such a tainted place.

I turned a corner and bumped into something. I reared in fright and heard a gentle voice tryign to calm me, and a light hand stroking my shoulder. I got back down on all fours and saw it was a Native boy. He was older than Jones but younger than most of the men back at the camp, and he had relaxing eyes. I remembered why I was there and whinnied, moving a way a little, beckoning him to follow me. When he did I felt pround of myself, I had got a human to understand me. I felt a weight pull on the saddle and I turned my head in a gallop to see the boy clinging to it.

I carried on running until I got to Durango. His eyes were clsoed and his breathing was shallow and incredibly fast. I had a horrible feeling that he wasn't going to make it. But the boy just stroked him softly and uttered kind words, words that the pitiful stallion seemed to understand. His breathing slowed and after skipping a heart beat I realised that he was sleeping. The boy started to run back to the settlement and I lent him a hand by carrying him.

I watched the Native gather pelts and sticks from the ruins and he rode me back with the supplies in his arms. I watched as the boy started building a tent around Durango. The shelter and warmth would help him recover I dejuced. We worked together through the night, collecting, carrying and constructing until he was out of harm's way. I lay down beside him for company and slept heavily though till the morning.

Little Creek pulled aside the canvas of the tent and Weeping Doe greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. He told her of the two army horses and how one of them was injured. "I'm going to bring him back to health."

"But won't the Intruders want to take them back?" she replied, holding his arm gently.

"They could take the mare, she's fine, but I doubt that she will leave her mate alone. And he can't be moved."

They sat down in the darkness on an animal skin and talked. The Lakota woman told her husband of how many were dead from the attack. Their numbers were halved, but she suspected that the white men had come off worse. The Chief had lost one of his sons, the middle one, and he was in heavy grief. But the plan was to move the village a few metres away to let the ruins collapse and be retaken by the earth.

Little Creek said that he had built a shelter anround the horses and that it would be a great deal easier if they set up their tent next to it. His wife told him of how the ones fit to travel would take the horses to the nearest forest for wood, meat and skins. It was getting colder, and the village's priority was to make sure they were prepared for the winter. The snow would be thick in the next few months, too thick for them to be attacked again.

They agreed that they would move their home next to the horses in the morning and Little Creek would go out for supplies once they were set up.

If he could ride the palomino.

I woke before the sun was up and my stomach ached to the point of insanity. I had had the tack on for nearly a day now and the girth was still unbearingly tight around me. The bit pulled at the corner of my mouth and the stirrups dug into me when I lay down.

I checked his breathing. Satisfied, I got up to look at our surroundings. Like I had seen last night, it was a piece of flat, open land. In the distance were some gentle hills with forest covering them. There was also, of course, the forest that we had stopped at on the way. The Natives probably would avoid that one since the cavelry was probably recovering there. But I could smell the autumn in the breeze. It was chilly, and the grass was scorched from the baking summer. The nearest river would be in that forest on the hills. I needed to bring water to Durango, but there was no way of carrying it.

I looked up and saw movement in the settlement. The Lakota boy and a girl were taking down their tent, rolling it up like paper. The boy whistled and a blue roan came to him. He mounted the horse bareback and cantered over to me, the shelter rolled up and tucked under one arm. The girl ran after him, carrying some more skins and items.

I watched them fix up the tent next to ours and admired their work. I prefered these buildings. They could be moved, they looked natural and weren't so dominant. I still couldn't believe that my humans wanted to get rid of this way of life. These people looked happy enough.

But I had no humans anymore. I was free. The army had abandoned me and I could return home. But that was the problem, I had decided to stay in the human world because I had no choice. I couldn't forgive the military for what they were doing to their own brothers, it made me sick. I realised that these people could make things out of the slightest and most insignificant objects. They had containers to carry water and I realised that that was my answer. I needed help from these people if Durango was ever to be healthy again.

But it seemed that I didn't need to ask, since the girl was already undoing my girth and removing the saddle form my back. I winced as she gently touched the sores, her normal smile creasing into a frown of sorrow. I could tell she was kind, her smell was warm and she was always calm. She took off the bridle too and sat outside the tent while the boy ran to and fro with things that they left in the village.

Through the morning I saw more and more of the tribe doing the same, moving their possessions towards where we were. Anything that was unusable such as a burnt tent frame or the guns from the army were left. I believe that they took the bodies away in the night to a quiet area. Even the horses had been treated with respect and taken to a burial ground.

As people came and went and returned and departed, the girl tore apart my saddle. She used the leather to make thin but strong pieces of rope and used them to reinforce her home. She used the packed straw inside for fire fuel and soon there were nearly twenty humans gathered around it, trying to keep warm in the nipping air. It was one of those days where sun was out but it offered no comforting heat.

I checked on Durango several times during the first half of the day. He was breathing easier because he was warm, and he nibbled at the dry grass every so often. The girl came in and cleaned the wound. We held our breath, hoping that it wouldn't start bleeding again. It didn't. She left again and returned with a basket of grain for us. I nudged it toward him so that he could eat his fill, but his appetite was small and I ended up eating most of it.

Later on the boy came in and ushered me outside. I hesitated, not wanting to leave him, but I trusted him, I needed his help. I felt his hands on my back and my sores stabbed at my mind. He took the weight off me, noticing the sores. He sighed disappointedly and patted my neck. No doubt he wanted to ride me, but he knew I could not cope with the pain if he did. He grabbed a bag and started walking behind the other men on the horses. I saw how they rode bareback, or at the very most with just a patterned cloth. They were heading for the forest and they were carrying containers, rope and baskets. I knew that they were going to look for food and water. I couldn't miss this oppotunity, so I walked along side of him.

Along the way he wrapped his rope around my shoulders and