own," he snarled, no one is going to save-" He broke off into a scream and the palomino shrunk to the ground in fear as the wind beat at her face. She opened her eyes and saw that an eagle was clawing at the stallion. The bird was old, and she realised that it was the one from their last home. He had finally found the herd again.

Spuro watched in awe as the giant bird viciously attacked Pirate. Their feathered ally was experienced in hunting, no doubt he had gone for the eyes. Now the stallion was stumbling about, pressing his face into the ground in agony, trying to shield himself from another attack. Already Jade was making a run for it, and he was in no shape to fight back.

Ghost just wouldn't back down. He followed Willow no matter which way she turned, cutting her off and ordering her another way. He told her that she needed a stallion, and since Spuro was dead, he would have to do. She hadn't given up hope, she wanted Spuro to be alive, but it wold only be so long before she had to accept that Van would have finished him off.

"Come on Willow," he said, faking a gentle appearance, "I onyl want the best for you - I love you."

"You don't know the meaning of the word!" she replied, dodging him.

"A mare wandering the planes alone is bound to get hurt or captured, at least you would always have me there to protect you. Please Willow, wouldn't Spuro want you to be safe?"

"He would want me to be happy," she replied, crying.

"He does want you to be happy," a third voice said.

Ghost looked behind him to see a chestnut stallion. "You have got to be kidding me!"

With a cry of frustration he leapt at his enemy, knocking them both to the ground and rolling in a heap to the base of the hill. Spuro got up first and prepared himself for a tough fight. Mind games wouldn't work again, and his strength had been sapped from the recent events. He took up a strong defence and waited for the strike.

Ghost managed to grab his mane and knock him about a bit, finishing with a blow to the chest. Winded, Spuro stood up again and changed tactics, stepping aside when the dun jumped towards him. He tripped a few times on the way, wheezing and coughing from the effort.

Willow had made her way towards them and was egging him on for support, but instead he only flopped onto the grass, too tired and bruised to stand up. Just when he thought that he was finished, Ghost was hit by three blurs, one by one.

James bashed into his shoulder, distracting the champagne dun, while Spirit kicked him on the side he wasn't looking at. Durango joined in, and bit him a few times. Ghost was surrounded by the three stallions. All of them were old, aching and weaker than him, but he didn't stand a chance against all three of them.

"Leave my land," said the buckskin.

"Now," added the sorrel.

He gave up. There was no other way of getting out of the territory alive. So, tail between his legs, he called up some of his friends and they raced away from the herd land, chased on by Durango.

Willow was already at Spuro's side, trying to get him to focus on her. James wandered over, fearing the worst, followed by Spirit. She was whispering to him hoping to give him some sort of strength. His green eyes were flickering open and shut, uncertain what to do, until finally they shut. Willow kept saying his name repeatedly, a bit louder every time.

Durango was back now and the three stallions stood with their ears flopped to the sides. James' right ear pricked up and he turned around to see Pirate limping across the field. He nudged Durango, who also turned to look.

"Stay here, Dad," Durango muttered, "we'll go and see to him."

First there were murmurings in the blackness, followed by clearer sounds. Words. He slowly opened his eyes, almost blinding himself by the light. Spuro sat up properly and tried to get a grasp of his surroundings. Everything settled into focus, and infront of him was an old, golden mare with gentle green eyes.

"Mother?" he said, his voice rasping. He coughed.

The mare smiled and tugged at his forelock playfully. "Yes, Spuro, it's me." They just looked at each other for a moment, gazing into each other's green eyes, before they broke out crying.

Spuro pulled away first and rested his forehead on her nose. He had always hoped that he would live to see his mother again, and here she was, waiting for him. A second mustang approached him, and he recognised the shining mousegrey coat and silver mane.

"Willow, you're alright?" She nodded, then joined him on the grass.

"We thought you were a goner," a deep voice laughed. It was James. What was he doing there? "I'm not staying, if you're wondering. I just thought I'd stick around to say goodbye."

"You could stay, you know," Durango said. Durango. Spuro had never been so happy to see his own father since he arrived to fight off the cougar as a colt. "We could do with the extra help, now that we've got all these mares to look after."

Spuro looked across the field. Every single mare who had been caught by the Band was either drinking or grazing in the summer sunshine. Even little Cygnus was there, frolicking with the other foals, keen to make new friends. He shook his head. "Hang on. What did I miss? What happened to all the stallions?"

"A lot of them took flight and ran off, including Ghost," James explained. "The members of the Resistance stuck around until a few hours ago. They all left after a mare chose them to start their own herd, and they plan to spread across the planes, over the mountains and across the whole land, starting new herds with no competition nearby. I'm the last one to go, but I've already found someone." He gazed fondly at a blue roan mare who was lying in the shade.

"And Pirate?" Spuro asked, looking at his dad.

"Me and James took care of him," he replied simply, "he won't bother us any longer. And it turns out that that cougar - Van is it? - would take away any dead and leave us all be until he ran out of food. And there are much less rogues out there now, so we don't have to worry about sneaky stallions hanging about."

"There are just over seventy mares left in this herd, Spuro, including me and Willow," Jade said. "Your grandfather thinks that you'll be needed to help out if we're all going to stay healthy and safe. Can you walk?"

He pushed himself up off the ground and balanced himself. Being knocked unconcious twice in two days had really taken it's toll on him, but he could manage a stroll down to the old maple. Spirit was waiting for him there, standing alone under the amber leaves similar to his own coat. The chestnut hadn't spoken with him since he had been kicked out of the herd, and he was slightly afraid to approach him.

"Don't worry, Spur," he said, "I only want to talk."

He stood before the ancient mustang, nervous but proud. "You saved us all," he continued, "if it hadn't been for you many more would be dead and our family and friends would be split across the planes. It seems you have learnt quite a few things since we last met - you risked your own life valiantly to save ours, you returned even though I could have turned you away again, and from what James tells me you encouraged others to rise up against their leader according to what they believed was right. You've come a long way.

"I'm old, I can't do anything like I used to, be it fight, run or work. Your father can't handle his duties alone, but he doesn't feel strong enough compared to you to be leader."

"What are you saying?"

"We've done our job, now it's your turn. You're young, experienced and brave, and I'm proud to have you take the place of me and your father. Will you be the stallion of the Cimarron Herd?"

Spuro's ears swerved towards the direction that the neighing was coming from. He looked up from his grazing to see Willow cantering towards him across the lush planes. Behind her was a foal, gangly and excited. It was the spring, and several of the mares had foaled over the last few months, including Sun, Roe and the other mares that Spuro had grown close to during their time in the Band.

Spirit was dead, he had passed on in his sleep one night in autumn, only to be found by Jade the next morning. He had lived beyond the natural expectancy of a horse, and finally he could join Rain and Esperanza. The entire herd mourned their ledgendary leader for weeks, fearing that they would come to harm without him. But Spuro had pulled them all through the winter in good health and a new generation of the Cimarron Herd had begun.

Already he was the father of twin fillies, Winnie and Tanya, from Sunset, as well as Maple from Sham, Cody from Marsha, Mirren from Fenna and Denver from Roe. The mare had suggested naming the chestnut colt after his close friend, and Spuro happily agreed. Cygnus was coming up to three years old and she had been adopted by himself and Willow. Now the silver grullo had made it back to the herd safely with the new arrival.

"He's a tough little fella," Willow smiled as she watched the colt and stallion meet for the first time, "he took on a fawn in the forest, but the plucky deer bounded off."

The colt was a silver bay with a white sock and a blaze. His coat was dark and contrasted beautifully with his shimmering mane and tail. His deep green eyes resembled that of his grandmother's.