Dumbledore hung his neck over the five-year-old stallions neck in good-bye. He remembered when he was young and couldn’t remember his name, and everything they had gone threw. He had taught him to fight, to race, and even how to get a mare. And he would need those lessons now. Dumbledore broke away and looked at his wise eyes. A tear streamed down Dumbledores cheek. He was his best friend, his best, best friend. He didn’t know how he would live without this stallion, but he had given him so much and he knew he could.

As Dumbledore walked out of the herd, he turned back to face them about ten feet away. He reared high on his hind legs, his legs pawning the sky, mane flying everywhere, and let out a loud neigh in farewell. Then he spun around and galloped for the mountains. His eyes shined as he raced towards his new home. An Eagle flew high over head and let out a screaming call. Dumbledore looked up as the Eagle flew over the sun and away into the horizon. He was going to be okay. He was going to survive.