grandmother's. "And his name?" Spuro asked.

"You decide."

Spuro nuzzled his son and gently nudged him back towards his mother. ""What about Spirit, after our late leader?" one of the nearby mares suggested.

"How about something reffering to what he was about?" Spuro said. "He'll always be remembered, especially by us, but to man and other herds he will only be able to be passed down through word of mouth, becoming merely a myth."

"That's it," Willow said suddenly. "Myth."

The stallion smiled at his son. He reared, kicking his legs out to their full length and neighed. Willow joined in, followed by the mares and Durango, and finally little Myth, who gave out his first herd call. Even through change, even through death, the Cimarron Herd would always go on. And through the generations, there would always be stories of Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron.