for his untameable nature, he had named the stallion Spirit.

All these details flashed through the Lakota boy's mind in an instant, and that was it. That golden mare was their foal. He hide was honey coloured like her father's and her mane was as creamy and thick as Rain's. Yet she was so far from home, and looked no more than five years old. Some bitter fate had caused her to be taken from where she belonged and aged her. She was wise and tame now, she had an air of knowledge, as if she understood how the world worked, and more importantly, accepted it.

Little Creek headed back home and slept fully that night, knowing exactly what he had to do the next morning.

I was awoken by Little Creek in the early hours and rode us out into the forest. We stopped by the river, where he led us in and washed off the dye from our coats. I could sense that something was up, the boy looked sad. Once we were clean, he spoke to us. I understood little of what he said, but Durango picked up most of it. When the human had finished talking he stepped aside, and Durango told me he was letting us free, he knew who I was.

I glanced at the human for a moment, then, reluctantly, cantered off. That was it. That was all we had to do. But my heart felt heavy in my chest as I ran away from everything human. It was if the chapter of excitement in my life was over, and I would go home and just become another mare in a herd.

We continued though, and as we moved onto higher ground, flakes of snow began to fall. It was a sign, winter was coming early this year, and it would be heavy. Durango didn't know how to survive on his own, and I thought about turning back and staying where there was food and warmth for the coldest months, but my instincts grew stronger and my pace quickened. I was going home.

Because of Durango's leg we could only travel between dawn and dusk. He would be exhausted after any longer and we would be a target for predators or more humans. We made sure that we found shelter before sunset every day so that we weren't caught in the open. Progress was painfully slow. Every morning I would set myself a target on the horizon to get to before dark, but we never reached it. Probably because that object was miles away. But I had no idea how far we were to home, until I saw a familiar face.

One afternoon, while we were following a river, the shadow of an eagle passed over us. We stopped and looked up. The majestic bird swept above our heads and landed on the ground infront of us. I recognised it as the eagle from my homeland. Either he had been looking for me or we were close to home.

The bird knew me too and pulled at my mane playfully. He eyed Durango and the stallion tried to hide behind me. It was clear that he had never come across many wild creatures before. The eagle took off in a different direction than the one we had been going, and I trotted after it, Durango following suit.

By the end of the day we reached a small corpse of trees in a ditch where we slept. The eagel kept watch for a few hours then fell asleep on a branch.

Horses ran through soft grass that reached up to stroke their bellies, and the herd twisted and turned trough it, like schools of fish, their colours shining from the moonlight. Dapple greys, chestnuts, bays, buckskins, palominos, swekbalds, piebalds, they all galloped in unison, trampling the grass to stamp down the grasping fingers. One by one, they all dropped away from the group and stood still. High above, an eagle watched, viewing the pattern that had appeared. It was almost a mirror image to that majestic bird: a bald eagle, wings spread wide, as if trying to touch something beond reality. As the wind picked up, and the grass blew gently, it appeared to be flying.

I woke up with a start. It was that dream again. I had let it pass through my mind unquestioned so many times before and now I was getting tired of it. I wanted to know what it meant. It was probably just something I came up with in my head, but it felt like more than that, especially since it was being repeated.

I spent the rest of the night trying to decipher the message. No one had told it to me, so I must have come up with it. It was trying to tell me what I had forgotten. I had to cut it up, disect it.

First was horses. So it was about me and others in my species. The grass was long so it was wild. They were all different colours, but all were running together. Teamwork and relationships came to mind. They pushed the grass down, like they were getting rid of something. But then they went their own way, like they would always be one but always have to follow their own path, and in the end, that path would stop. I knew the eagle was a symbol of freedom. But these were just pieces, not a message.

But it was better than nothing. I closed my eyes once more to get some extra energy for our journey, and noticed for the first time that snow had covered the ground in a layer two feet thick. I shivered and Durango blinked awake. He shook to remove the snow and stood up. Flakes were already beginning to fall again.

The eagel ruffled his feathers and took over again. We followed, but the blanket of snow slowed us to a plodding walk. The going was hard and we struggled to pull our legs out of the white expanse. By midday we would be exhausted. But we couldn't sleep in the open, we would freeze to death, so it became more of a journey for shelter than a journey home.

Along the way I nosed through the snow and dug up roots to show Durango how to feed in bad weather. He tried it himself, but with little luck. He didn't let it bother him though, aside from our aching hunger. The eagle kept wheeling back to us when we fell too far behind. He led us to a rocky overhang. There was no snow underneath it so we had a chance to dry off, our legs were soaked to the bones. Even our shaggy winter coats couldn't keep us warm. I longed for the valley, wondering how far it was from there. We never got as much snow as this over night. It made things easier.

I had to stop daydreaming. We weren't in the home valley, we were out in this barren wilderness, lonely, cold and wet, not to mention starving. I had to harden up if I was going to live through this. I encouraged Durango and he practised foraging in the afternoon. At least some of the snow had melted and we could drink.

After another week of travelling we felt like we were getting somewhere. The snow had receded and we were eating better. More ground was covered in an hour and I felt I recognised some of the places we went through from when I was taken to the ranch. That meant we were near.

And yet so far.

One morning we set out, following the eagle's direction in the sky. It was snowing but we didn't pay it much attention. It was snow, yipiddy-do-dah. The strange thing was that it was so magical as a foal, now it was just a nuicance. I reckoned that we could have made it back by then if we weren't trudging through three feet of snow every day. As we walked on the snow became heavier and harder, it stung as the wind shot the tiny pellets at us. I had to close my eyes and stumble blindly across strange terrain. The shriek of the wind deafened me as well, and it took me a few minutes to realise I was alone. I stopped in alarm. I neighed for Durango, but I was simply drowned out by the wind, preventing me to hear him reply if he heard me. The eagle was gone from the sky, it was just a grey pool of swirling flakes. I stayed exactly where I was, waiting the blizzard out. I stood there for an hour, the snow burying me from the knees up. I began to move again, my skin screaming for relief from the cold and wet. I would be frozen to death if I kept still any longer. Pretty soon walking became wading, and that in turn became bouncing as I attempted to keep my head above the snow.

I tripped and fell straight into the snow bank. I pushed up, but the wind had blown more snow on top of me. The weight of it was frightening, and either I was going to be crushed, choked or freeze. I felt my eyelids become heavy, and my breath slowed. I was fading away.

The howling of the wind stopped. Something inside of me forced me to continue, and I could break a hole in the surface now that I wasn't being pushed back down. First my nose pushed through and I sucked in the clean air. I then shoved my head and neck out, and eventually, my entire body. I was soaked all over and I quickly began shivering again. I heard my name being called. My vision was blurred but I saw a brown shape ploughing through the snow towards me, and a V shape circling above me in the sky. My pupils focused and I sighed as I recognised Durango and the eagle.

The snow had compacted itself enough to walk on the bottom layers. I leant on Durango a good deal of the way, still shaking from the cold. I was sopping wet and needed to dry off in a warm place, but there was no shelter in view. Just blinding whiteness. At least the sun had emerged, and though I couldn't feel it, the heat was enough to start melting snow.

Finally we turned a corner past a boulder and there was a piece of woodland. I staggered towards it, urged on by my two companions. When the snow fell away at the edge of the trees I almost stumbled to the ground, but i picked myself up again and made for a large tree. I collapsed in a heap there and slept.

Horses ran through soft grass that reached up to stroke their bellies, and the herd twisted and turned trough it, like schools of fish, their colours shining from the moonlight. Dapple greys, chestnuts, bays, buckskins, palominos, swekbalds, piebalds, they all galloped in unison, trampling the grass to stamp down the grasping fingers. One by one, they all dropped away from the group and stood still. High above, an eagle watched, viewing the pattern that had