chestnut and blanketed stallions approach him from the stop of the ridge. Behind him another mustang had cut off his retreat. He had nowhere to run, so he stood tall and strong to see what they wanted. After all, if he could fight a cougar he could fight a few horses.

The flaxen one was a giant, clearly a crossbreed with at least one draft horse. Spuro suddenly had second thoughts on fighting the strangers. The horse next to him was a bay blanket appaloosa, tall but slim, and seemed to be more agile than the other one. The horse behind him was a black mustang. Spuro found it strange how they were all males.

"You're coming with us, son," the giant said.

"Says who?" Spuro retorted.

"Says the protocols of this territory," answered the appaloosa. "All who pass the test shall be taken for placing."

"Test?" Spuro repeated. He opened his mouth in shock. "You mean you set that puma on me? Why?"

"To see if we would have any use for you," the black stallion said, nudging him forwards.

"And we do," the flaxen finished. The three horses led him along the gully then up a slope and back onto the planes. The waited infront of a piece of woodland and waited for a few minutes. Finally they was called to enter the clearing.

Spuro gazed at the tiny horse. It was the oldest mustang he had ever seen, the stallion must have shrunken with his age. The horse was clearly blind and very frail. His bones looked brittle and the muscles were withered. The coat seemed to add an extra illusion of age, since it was a silvery white with grey specks.

"Definately young and inexperienced," the horse said, not moving from where he stood. "He says nothing but just stares at me. It's like he doesn't believe a wild horse could live so long. In case you're wondering, boy, I am nearly forty years old. I am the one who sees all."

"Pretty ironic considering you're blind," Spuro muttered. He received a knock around the back of the head by the giant horse. "Ow."

"Metaphorically," the old horse smiled. "You can't defend, you weren't looking at your surroundings until you were attacked. If the beast hadn't growled then you would be dead. A lucky escape, so learn by it. But you can certainly fight, James has told me that much. What training have you had?"

"Fighting, scouting and surviving in harsh conditions," Spuro replied. He was curious about how these animals lived. It was like a military procedure, something even he knew wild horses should not do. Only man was organised when it came to war.

"You're doing as you're told, that's good, you'll soon settle in here. And so I believe that you'll be good as part of our attack squad. James, take him to our leader and give him my report on the lad. Nickle and Ash, return to your post and take James' place until the shift changes."

The flaxen giant started to lead him along the open plane. Spuro's curiosity kept him nailed to the stallion's side. "So, where am I, exactly?" Spuro asked as they walked.

"We are a batchelor herd made of many horses," James replied, looking straight ahead with his ears forward, as always. "We are the Band. We work as a team to survive and one day we will be rewarded with a herd of our own, assuming that we have worked our way to the top."

"And that's why you're here, is it?" Spuro asked, but the stallion didn't answer him. "Look, I left my herd because I wanted to be free-"

"Two corrections," the stallion butted in. "One, you were kicked out of your herd, don't lie to me, and two you are free, no man owns you, that's as free as a horse can get."

"No it isn't!" he argued. Again no one could understand. "In a herd you have to do as the leaders say! If I was a rogue stallion I could do as I please!"

"Think about it, boy," the giant laughed, "if you were the leader of a herd you could do whatever you wanted. We believe here that freedom and control are the same thing, and you have to earn them slowly. I've been here since I was two years old, how long is that, you ask? Nearly a decade, and look at me! I am a captain, the head of defencive and offencive units and I am respected by all horses that are lower than me in rank."

"Yeah, well I'm not the leader of this herd, am I? So I don't have any freedom," Spuro said, hating to see the reason behind stallion's words.

"Not yet, and by the report Shorty gave you you could earn it quicker than the average younster," he replied.

"Oh, and let's get another thing straight," Spuro said firmly, "I'm not a 'youngster', I'm four years old, I'm a stallion. Not as big or strong as the rest of you yet, but I am an adult."

"Act like one then."

The ground started to decline into a ditch as the morning sun rose in the sky. What was in it took Spuro's breath away. There was a lake full of fresh, clear water, and the ground was covered in lush grass. Across the basin was a dustier patch of land with rocks and platforms piled high that James called the Council. It was a place where the captains and their leader would listen to reports and discuss the workings of the system. There were as many horses in the place alone as there was in the CImarron herd, all of them were males. Many looked weak and new to the scene, no doubt they had been brought to the palce after being driven from their own home.

Spuro attracted the attention of most of the horses - who were mainly mustangs, but he could see quarter horses and other captive breeds thrown in aswell - as he and James walked to the raised area. Spuro looked ahead to see the same cougar who had attacked him talking with a stallion. The stallion was a dunalino. He was enormous in build and nearly as tall as James. He had many scars over his body from years of battling, and every horse feared him and served him loyaly. He weas clearly in charge of the place.

The young stallion could overhear the conversation between the two. "Our deal was that I would provide you with all the horses you could catch, and you're the one who's not catching any," the stallion said slyly.

The mountain lion growled, annoyed. "It started when I couldn't catch them because they were strong. Now I can't catch any because I'm starving. Soon I'll waste away, and you wont be able to catch new arrivals or get rid of traitors!"

The stallion thought about it, then jumped down from his platform to talk to the cougar face to face. "Fine, I'll take this year's round up champions and the rest will be left to you. Now while you're waiting go and prey on some smaller mammals."

The cougar slunk off, snarling at Spuro as it went. "Next," shouted the stallion, retaking his higher ground. James and Spuro stepped forward together and the captain gave his leader the report from Shorty. While the flaxen was talking the dunalino eyed Spuro.

"Send him to fight another newcomer," he decided at last, "and if he wins you can personally train him, James, making up your class of six."

"Whoa, wait!" Spuro cried, "I don't even want to be here, I didn't know I was straying into your territory! I want to live as a rougue stallion, I don't want to be in a herd!"

"You will when I've finished with you," the stallion smirked. "James, take him to fight."

James bowed his head then moved Spuro away hurridly. He explained to him the rules of fighting while they walked to the arena. Spuro started to panic, he had never properly fought another horse before, and he didn't like the idea of it at all.

"No wonder you got driven out of your home if you chicken out of a good fight," James said to him sternly. "Stallions battle over land, mares and rank. You have to learn sooner or later, and if you're going to be in the attack squad then it better be sooner!"

Spuro couldn't help wondering what happened between Durango and Spirit after he left. Both could fight off a predator, both could fend off man, both were strong and cunning. They were equals, which also meant they were rivals. He hoped that their fight hadn't ended in a fatality.

"There is no referee in the fights," James explained as they watched two horses battle it out. "The ring is made up of other horses, and none of them will interfere any more than chanting for their desired winner. There are two ways to win: you kill the other horse or the other horse officially surrenders. You will lose, however, if you show any sign of mercy. The horse closest to the fight will decide if you are showing that weakness."

"You say it like mercy is a bad thing," Spuro commented, watching one of the stallions lunge at the other.

"If you die you die with honour. If you surrender you can regain your honour. If you let them get away, you are not fit to fight with us, and you are sent to Van the cougar. If you survive him then you become one of the workers."

Spuro laughed a little and asked, "Why is the painter called Van? Bit of an odd name."

"Anyway," James continued, trying to get back on topic, "the winner is rewarded, the loser is sent to be tested once more, and if he passes that he is trained again for another circuit."

One of the horses pressed his hooves into the other's side, who was on the ground. The mustang gave a loud neigh, and the stronger one released him and was announced