I wake up to a high pitched whinny. I groan and flail out my tall legs. I feel mothers muzzle pushing me up. I stagger into her. The early dawn sky is orange and blue. The sun a meir glistening line on the grassy ridge. A smokey amber coloured stallion stands sqaurly looking out over the dew soaked plains we will run in. Mother quickly shoves me toward the others. I lazily slack off in the run. I lag behind in the back. We gallop away from the line of trees. My small hooves hit the occasional rock or uneven ground making me stumble. I whinny out despreatly to mother. She meirly looks behind from the front of the herd. I dip my head, disappointed. Trout brushes his faded grey coat against his mothers. My legs ache by the time we get to the river. I groan in pure displeasure at the thought of having to cross it. I curl underneath a swooping willow tree. I watch mother graze with the other mares, their foals following close behind. I often wonder, in a herd of roughly twenty horses why are their coats so alike compared to mine? Mother is a pretty chestnut with a white stripe down her face and white hocks on her legs. Most of the horses are either chestnut, dark brown or somewhere in between. Except me. I'm a pale palomino cream colour with a sandy by light blonde mane and tail. I have a bright white star and smile with a jagged line in between. Maybe my coat is why I'm so disliked. The stallion leaps into the water and trudges through with high strides. This time mother doesn't even bother coming to get me. Troat leans against his mothers legs while I wait until the others to cross. The water soaks into my fur making me shiver. I whip my tail up and shake my mane. I try to act like the bitter cold isn't seeping into my bones when we start across the plains again. The stallion let's out a low whinny of distress. I rear up on my back legs to see what's happening as I am always in the back of the herd. I hear the sound of hoofbeats and the stallions cries. I hear mothers too, along with the other mares in the front. The whole herd erruots into a psychotic frenzied for safety. Some mares shove their foals away from three horses with riders. I see the stallion rear and buck, his hoof connecting with a mans face. I stand in the middle of it all. To petrified to move. Then one of them spots me.
"We got a purdy one over 'ere!" A man hollers over the chaos. He rides his buckskin mare closer to me. Another man, younger by maybe ten years comes up on my left. If I run they'll chase me. If I fight they'll tie me up. My brain races with thoughts. I don't even bother glancing around for mother. I know she won't come. I feel a heavy weight on my neck that nearly bowls me over. A rope. They're taking me.
"Look at em legs John. He's got a weak one" Another man sighs.
"But he'll fetch a purdy price down at the market" One hoots. Fear and panic make an unearthly shiver run down my spine. After two more ropes being swung over my neck they haul me off in the direction of the ridge, where we all know the stables are. I whinny out in terror. Knowing no one will hear. Even if they do they wouldn't waste their time on me.
"He's dead weight John. Cut 'em loose" A burly one whines.
"I would fancy some shepherds pie for dinner but that ain't gonna happen if I can't get my Mary the stuff ta make it! I need to sell 'em!" The one on the made snaps.
"Pfft dead weight" He only murmers in response. Dead weight. That's what every one thinks don't they. They drag me down the slope. Its not like I can fight back to meet loose. I'm only one and a half years old. They canter down the hill. My back leg gives out and I'm literally dragged down. My lower half flailing out of control hitting ragged rocks and prices of wood that stab at the frog of my hoof. But this I know for sure, this is only the start. Living under the humans control my life will surely get a lot worse.
