further away from the herd by a forest. They looked terrified of the strange surroundings, sniffing and eying everything unusual to them. Willow waited with Cygnus under a fir tree.

"The attackers are going to make their way through the forest, where they will be picked off by them," (the codeword for the Resisance members. It was vital that nothing was overheard,) "then the defences will attack from the hill lead by Pirate and the warriors, to find half of the attack force missing. By then they will have been spotted, and they can move away until the numbers are lowered furhter. They and the warriors will turn on them and lower their forces. Pirate and the captains will be kept alive, and anyone who joins in fighting against them. While this is going on, you and some of the other mares should find the herd and get their stallions and colts to join in the fight.

"By the end of it we will only have honest, true stallions left who have moral standards and a value of life. And we'll give the captains a choice: leave across the mountains or face death. The mares from all these herds will then have the choice of all of them, and they can go free and have their own herd, as promised, but the kind way. And if we ever see the likes of the Band again, they will make sure it is put to a stop before it can grow into what it is now."

Half an hour later the order was given to move out. The attack force was sent into the forest, where the members of the Resistance held their ears to the sides as a marker to not be killed. They stalked someone infront of them before attacking, picking them off silently in the darkness. The officer who was designated as the leader knew something was up, and ordered them out of the trees. But none of his soldiers herd his words, before he too was dealt with.

The denfences, scouts and all other horses cantered down the gentle hillside towards the herd territory, with the Elite Forces, the captains and Pirate at the front, spread out across the field. There was no sign of the attack force in the forest yet, but that was good, at least they were stealthy, Pirate thought.

The horses at the bottom of the hill looked up in disbelief, not trusting their eyes for seeing such a sight. Over 100 horses were now galloping towards them, and on the edge of the mass was a single red mark against the grass, running across the front of the pack.

"Spuro?" James said to himself. It was impossible - surely he was dead!

 "Run!" he shouted to the herd, "Just run! Get out of here!"

"How did he - never mind! I'll deal with him. Spuro!" Pirate shouted above the thunder.

The chestnut was heading straight for him, but the dun was ready, already preparing to go for the throat. In the nick of time the attack force, although halved in size, burst from the trees, scattering the stampede. The horses at the front stopped in their tracks, then were bowled over by the ones from behind. There was chaos as they ran in all directions before heading after the herd, which was now heading away from the open fields into a grassly valley. There was no way out for them, the battle was surely won.

Only Spuro and Pirate remained on the hill, glaring at each other. The leader leapt at his enemy, causing him to step backwards and roll a few times before jumping back up. They both kicked, reared and bit, fending each other off as long as they could. But Spuro was still weak from their last fight, and he had sprinted across miles and miles of hot, open planes without a stop for water or shade.

The dun stuck him in the shoulder, sending him sprawling at the bottom of the hill. He tried to get up, but his legs demanded rest, so he stayed put, low and unable to move if he had to. He had taken up a low defence - a bad choice. One of the first lessons in his training nearly four long years ago was to never, ever get low on the ground. You were asking for trouble if you did.

Pirate reared to strike the final blow, but he seemed to just disappear in thin air then materialize again on the ground. James had headbutted him in the side of the stomach, and stood there breathelss, ready to take on the mighty fighter if it meant saving his friend.

Pirate looked at him in pure, irrevocable anger. "And I expected better of you, James."

"I have followed Spuro since he started this rediculous group, only because I couldn't stand to have him executed. I will not leave him alone now, and I never will. You're a monster, Pirate, you're closer to amn than a horse," he said, emotion removed from his voice.

"Then kill me," he replied with a snarl.

"No, I couldn't do that. You will always be my leader, and I may not always follow, but I could never end your life." He helped Spuro off the ground and they headed off into the final battle, leaving the dunalino alone on the hillside, stunned, before sneaking off to salvage the scraps of his labour and spring back to life.

"I thought I was a gonner," Spuro laughed.

The draft cross joined his laughter, a hardy, deep one, and said, "So did I. Never mind how you got here, the important thing is that you're here. Now come on - let's get rid of these tyrants."

Already several horses were surrendering to the Resistance, and more were following, but the most loyal members of the Band weren't going down without a good fight. The other captains, mainly Ghost, and the Elite Forces were keen to give and receive injury. Spuro thanked his lucky stars that he had placed some of the Resistors in the warrior group, now they were combatting the stronger horses.

"Where are the mares? Are they safe?" he asked.

"I sent some of them down to warn the herd, they should be down there now," James replied, Spuro already galloping away.

He had to find Willow, and his mother and sister. They weren't safe on low ground, he had to send them back up the hill where they could be defended easily. When he turned up at the group they were being rounded up agaisnt a steep cliffside by three defenders. He didn't recognise them - which wasn't a good sign.

"Dash," said one, bringing a second's attention to the chestnut, "it's that traitor, I swear it."

"Yes I am," he panted, "now let them go, or face me."

The three stallions laughed and one of them lunged at him. Spuro managed to inflict some light damage, warning them that he was serious. Their faces dropped slightly. The first one straightened up and said, "Leave this to me, you two keep and eye on them."

Somehow, with some unknown strength, Spuro managed to pin the enemy to the ground. The stranger horse had told him to kill him, and, though unwillingly, he did. He had prepared himself for death and lots of it on his journey back, but at least he could finally leave it behind in his shameful past once it was all over.

The two other stallions had taken flight when the fight had ended, and they were now lost in the crowd of males. Spuro shouted orders to the mares, saving his manners for later. He had to move them while he could, before the others caught on to what he was doing.

"Ok! Move it! Make your way up the hill and don't stop for anything! Move!" he bellowed, snapping at a few that were frozen to the ground, making them follow the herd when they broke out of their daze. He waited behind until they were all moving and followed the group across the battlefield.

Most of the Band members had simply ran for their lives, but enough were putting up a fight to cause problems. Already the collected mares were being rounded up, and Spuro's horses were having trouble containing the enemy. 

Suddenly the herd decended into panic and split off in all directions. Pirate, Ghost, Gorse and a whole fleet of other stallions had jumped out of nowhere, scattering the mares. They persued the females in groups of four and five, ignoring the chestnut altogether.

He stood stock still on the grass, unsure what to do. Behind him he heard Willow neighing amongst the other prisoners. He turned to run to her and stopped. He looked down the hill and wouldn't believe what he saw. A golden palomino was galloping alone, heading west along the side of the mountains. She was old and clearly struggling, and Spuro knew instantly that it was his mother. A scarred dunalino was close on her tail, then cut her off and backed her against a rockface.

He looked again at Willow, who was now being herded away by Ghost. It was his own mother, the one who had carried him for almost a year, then defended him no matter how cruel or badly he had behaved as a colt, or the one he loved. He did love Willow, but he could only save one.

He looked back at Jade again in dispair, praying for some sort of miracle.

The strange stallion had singled her out from the others and now she was all alone with him. His orange eyes locked on her own, striking fear into her heart. He used a soft voice, but it seemed a mocking one. "You're very pretty. You deserve a lead stallion, one who can fight and defend you, not that coward you are with now."

"I'll decide who I stay with," she replied, trembling, "and I can't have another foal anyway - the stress would kill me."

"Surely it's better to take a chance? It would be such a waste; your beauty and my power combined - imagine it. Now follow me. If I can only leave here alive with a single mare, it's going to be you." He shoved her to the left and carried on pushing her along, no matter how hard she fought.

"No! I'm not going! Durango!" she screamed, too weak to kick out.

"You're on your own," he snarled, no