Spuro's secret saboteurs, and his hopes were raised when the scouting party reported that they had missed their designated stop. Pirate was furious, and demanded that four of the other scouters (including three of the Restisance members) should take them back to the territory and be put to work. It rained heavily over the night, so they stayed under their shelter for the time being, trying to reform the plan.

Pirate called a meeting, where Shot explained how he had not heard from the couple that were watching the herd. It was clear that they had lost their position, and the only thing they could do was to make a camp and search the area until the enemy was found. Once the rain had ceased the scouts were sent back out onto the field in groups of five, leaving the rest of the forces to train up for the Band's first battle.

Spuro was training with James in the afternoon. The draft knew that his friend was feeling off. "You OK, boy?" he asked.

"I'm nervous," he replied, looking around the stallions, wondering how many would be returning with them. "Something's going to go wrong - I can feel it."

"Instincts are powerful things, Spur," Jame said to him sternly, "but you can't do anything about the future for now, so don't let it put you off what you have to do." There had been no discussion about the Resistance since the night before they had left the Band, for the safety of the entire group. But James didn't need to say anything about a secret organisation for the young captain to understand what 'he had to do' meant.

Finally, a report came in. Pirate immeadiately gave the order to move out, and they went on the move again. After an hour of walking through heavy, sucking mud, a patch of colour could be seen through the veil of drizzle. The West Planes Herd - all twenty-seven horses. They were huddled together - unsuspecting - in a small basin. They truely were on the western edge of the gigantic valley; a steep cliff towered up and spread into the mountains in the west. To the north the basin's walls were slippery with the mud and too steep to get a grip, much like the east ridge the Band's forces were lying low on. It was clear that the herd didn't stand a chance.

Pirate ordered the defencive units to cut off the escape to the south - a flat, narrow piece of land - and to close in on them. The rest of the horses waited, lying in the thick mud, facing away from the rain and watching the movements of the defenders. Spuro gave the signal to prepare to rise as the herd turned to look at the advancing strangers in surprise. He could see the mustangs that made up the herd now - twenty-seven in all, including sixteen mares, a filly, a two colts, eight young stallions and the lead stallion.

The herd ran to the east (as expected) when the intruders charged at them. They were half way up the slope when James shouted "Up!", causing the group to almost leap out of the dirt and block the way. Time seemed to freeze for a moment as the two leaders locked glares. Pirate's eyes danced around his prisoners, searching for a prize.

One of the young males tried to bash his way through the wall of attackers, but he was chased down the slope by one, then two, then several horses. The order was given to attack, and they charged down the hill, pushing the mares back to the centre of the basin. The leader of the herd lurched at Pirate, but James headbutted him into the ground, where he slid back to the bottom of the slope.

"Nickle! Separate the mares and foals from the stallions and keep them closed in. James! Make sure none of the stallions gets out of here alive!" Pirate shouted over the squeals of terror.

James eyes widened, suddenly remembering why he joined the Resistance. He had been trained under the impression that he would only chase away or injure their enemies, with maybe one fatality because of a 'hero' move. But now he was being ordered to kill all the horses - horses like him - even if they were fleeing for their life. Still, he obeyed, and the Band began to pick off it's first victims.

Spuro was on the tail of one of the stallions. He seemed to be a good few years older than him, yet less experienced. It was true what was said about the herd - a young, clueless leader had let it gone to the dogs, so a fine, middle-aged stallion had no idea how to defend himself.

The quarry swerved and headed back to the group of mares, now preciously guarded by Nickle and the defences. A sodden, mud-dark Spuro leapt on top of the stallion, bringing him to the ground. He pinned him on his back, and Spuro witnessed the raw fear in his eyes. This horse - this wild, mustang stallion, so similar to him - knew that he was going to die. He hated to do the deed, but for the safety of himself and his followers, he had to end his first life in the name of the Band.

A young mare shreiked as her father was slain on the ground. She pressed her head against her mother and they wept together, unsure of their fate. She vowed herself that his murderer wouldn't escape without justice, and that one day she would return the favour he had paid him.

Far away from the battlefield, James was sprinting after the lead stallion. He was wheezing and had numerous stitches, but he kept on the tail of him. Finally he stopped for breath, and the enemy turned to face him. "Look," said the stallion, a bay mustang, "look what you've done."

James turned to see the mudded ground and the terrified mares, the desparate stallions and the weeping foals. He knew what the bay was getting at - he was a monster. "I am only following orders," he panted in reply.

"And I follow my heart," sneered the stallion, walking up to him. "My heart says that your kind doesn't deserve to live."

He could have chosen to tell him everything - about how he didn't really believe in the Band's customs, how he was a major part of the Resistance, how he hated to kill. But James stayed silent apart from his ragged breaths as the enemy kicked at him, pushing his nerves for a fight. He staggered to his feet, exhausted, and stood to take the beating. He was a loyal soul. He was no traitor - his loyalty simply changed according to what was right. He would not betray Spuro because he believed he was right. He knew he was right.

The bay gave him another kick which sent him into the mud once more. James looked back on his life. It had been good - he had had parents who loved him, even if it was only for a short while, he had trained many wonderful horses, and he had played his part to liberate the members of the Band. He could let go if it was time.

Suddenly the bay was thrown to the ground and pounded by another set of hooves. Nickle fought the lead stallion to the very end, and helped James up from the mud once he had finished. "I couldn't leave you alone to handle him, old friend," he smiled to the flaxen. James smiled in return, but gawped at the scene of the young, silver grullo mare galloping away from the battle at full tilt. Nickle cursed the overgrown filly, before he helped James stumble back to the rest of the group.

 The army didn't return to their camp, but instead they stayed where they were in the basin. Pirate was alone, assessing the battle and deciding if it was a victory or a defeat. They had all but one of the mares - a silver grullo was missing - but they had successfully removed all the stallions from the area. Of course, there were the two colts who were huddled up to their mothers, but he planned to use them for training up.

Two of his captains, James and Nickle, were not present with the others after the fight, and he was beginning to wonder if they had gone AWOL when he saw them slowly walking up to the group. It looked as though the Captain of Offencive and Deffencive units had been through a rough spot, but at least he had him back. Once they were in place with everyone else, he gave the report.

"All are present, so we have lost no fighters. All stallions have been terminated - those who we witnessed killing one will receive a mare for their efforts. He who ended the lead stallion shall have two to his name. All mares present, aside one. I will require an explanation as to why when we get back to the camp. These are early days and we will do better in the next attack if we can learn from what went wrong today. Spuro, you take care of James until we get back to camp so that Nickle can oversee the transportation of the mares. All who killed should report to me and we will divide the spoils."

After a few hours to dry off and recover, the camp became a hive of activity. A few officers and the captains were gathered at the meeting place to receive their reward. The mares were being watched, looked over and rated while the exchange rates were decided. Eventually, it worked like this:

Pirate would have the first choice of three mares, then the top seven remaining mares would be reserved for the captains James, Nickle, Spuro, Shot, Ghost and Gorse. Shortie was too old for his own mares, he had said, so they left him out of the equation. Since James had 'lured' the lead stallion and Nickle had finished him off, they each got one of the two mares from that prize. Spuro got a second mare along with seven officers for killing a regular stallion. The remaining mares would be left for the time being, until enough had bene aquired to give one to every officer and captain in the Band for their rank. The females would then be given a piece of land to live and relax in, guarded by sentries.

He felt strangely humble as he walked among the group of mares. He knew that he must have killed - murdered - what was a mate to at least one of them.