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Bitter REvenge, How Sweet The Sound
The herd ran over the silent meadows, creating a rumbling throughout the hills. The
birds flew through the sky, creating small disturbances in the pink pockets of sunrise clouds. Several sweating horses wafted into the meadow. They stopped and drank and bathed in the crystal pond.
A tall light-colored mare stood tall in the shallow water. She looked toward one light grey mare, lying on the hill. She was in the wildflowers and tall grasses, giving birth to her foal, or possibly foals. The light mare looked down to the water, seeing long blue fish
curve around in the reeds. The other horses flicked water about, sending spritzes and fountains of water flying through the crimson air. The Herd of Sarose played in the deep side of the pond, a few venturing into the creeks on either side. All edged out of the waters in time, heading toward the scene on the hillside. The grey dappled mare had given birth to twins. A filly and a colt. The colt was a deep ebony black, the filly a sweet light pinkish red. Aneera, their mother, looked toward the others when she decided the two's names; Dragonfly for the colt, Yoki the filly. Stallions and mares nodded in approval. Only Emerson, the light mare, looked away without a nod of approval.
The filly cantered slowly around her brother. His teeth caught her tail and he tugged
lightly. Yoki whizzed around her quiet brother and yanked his tail...As the two played, though, their mother was not watching as another was. The Herd of Sarose was owned by gentle Indians, barely ever bothering the horses. However, a tall white-skinned man with shining black eyes sat on horseback atop a tall hill. His sharply-lined face broke into a crooked grin as he pulled a silvery gun from his pocket. "This should teach those dark-skinned beasts," he said in a gravelly voice that sounded as rocks feel as you grind your teeth upon them. He kicked his dark bay gelding, urging it painfully down the crest. He quietly rode alongside the herd, knowing they did not fear humans. That would all change so quickly for them. The man stopped the gelding on the spot and pulled up his handgun. He aimed it at the playing foals, not caring which he hit, or if he killed or wounded them. Let them bleed to death, he thought. And he laughed aloud, a grisly quiet chuckle, gritted his teeth, and pulled the trigger. As the shot fired, horses reared around him, his own included. They stampeded, all but three.
Dragonfly, Yoki, and Aneera. Dragonfly was on the ground. His breathing was near
nonexistant and his eyes closed. Next to him, on their knees, the two female horses. They
nudged him and urged him to get up. He whickered, and his head slid down to the ground. The two rose up, fell down, rose once more, only to fall again, several times before they quietly walked on, heads held extremely low. Silvery tears fell continuously to the moist ground as the mare and her filly walked the way the herd had gone.
Their heads still silently held low, they fled. They galloped and they walked, never
stopping but for a few hour's sleep. Soon enough, they reached a huge obstacle. A mountain, glaring upon them in their path. And still they had not reached the herd. They had found Emerson only, shot the same way as Dragonfly on the ground next to a muddy river on the way... But they could not think of this. They had to push forward. And so on they went. They dragged themselves along the paths up the mountain, stumbling upon three more of the herd, two shot and the third starved to death and tied to a tree. But on they pressed, hoping to find the rest of their family, their friends. The two kin pushed each other forward, never giving up their hope and mourning a little less every step. And then they reached the peak. Staring out upon the beautiful forests she had never even dreamt of, Yoki nickered, trying to listen to the clouds and she hoped to hear her brother's whinny whisper through their grappling winds... But it was not to be. The two hopeful equines trotted down the mountainside, a test of their will in itself. They couldn't go too fast or they would trip and quickly be dead. They had found countless skeletons smashed against rocks in this manner, several being familiar horses from their herd... And they mourned only slightly, their souls almost sucked into stone themselves from the shock of the loss of ones so dear to them in such a short time. And in time they reached the bottom.
At the base of the tall cruel mountain, Yoki and Aneera found horrible sights. Fields, smoking and sickled, covered slightly with their dead and dying kin and friends. The Herd of Sarose was no more. Aneera felt sorrow and grief, Yoki was simply grieved and dangerously enraged. She felt a burning desire to get back at the gravel-voiced man... But they could only follow his path of fire and death. All along their short journey, they found smoke and blazes, following a narrow path, and widening briefly to consume the nature that the two once enjoyed and loved.
Aneera was desperately weak by this time, though, and getting closer to death every moment. Yoki had to nudge her mother along constantly, becoming more and more infuriated at the white man on the dark horse. And Aneera wouldn't be able to stay with her Yoki much longer.
The two equines stopped under a patch of black burned trees, silent. Yoki nuzzled her mother, deciding what she thought would come next. Aneera slid down onto her knees, eyes barely open. She licked one of Yoki's ears and nuzzled her, then let herself dip into an endless sleep. Yoki stood and let an outburst of a whinny escape her troubled lips. Now she was angrier than ever before. She galloped harder than ever after the lightly burning fire, wanting desperately to catch the muderer of all she knew. That night, her life would either be changed forever, or
Yoki trailed the man all day, dawn to dusk, until he stopped his exhausted horse in a thicketed wood. He lie down upon an unrolled cot from his pack. And he slept with his dark gelding tied to a tall oak. As Yoki ventured toward the sleeping white man, the gelding snorted quietly and shook his head worriedly toward the filly. And she ignored him. Willingly or not, she urged onward toward the deeply sleeping murderer. She picked up her back hooves and brought all her weight down upon his ribcage. He awoke hurriedly with a gasp and his eyes bulged. He saw what had happened and picked up his handgun. He pulled up his arm and aimed the gun on Yoki's chest.
She jumped over and bit through the worn ropes of the gelding's tetherment. He galloped away faster than anyone Yoki had ever seen, besides her mother. And she felt a wrenching throb through her body. She turned slowly to the man, who grinning, fell face down on his knees into the mud, dead, dropping his handgun along the way. Yoki reared and let a nicker flow through the air. She never properly landed from that...She fell slowly, as if in a standstill, onto her side. And she was added to the dreadful list of amazing things the gravel-voiced man had destroyed from his greed and bigotry. But she had also stopped him in his tracks.