SDT Bonus Content

Chapter 46 from the horse's POV (Sorrel Part 1)

I stood in the ring, the bit in my mouth making it hard to breathe as the bastard sat on me, knowing he was going to whip me at any minute.

I was too old to go fast any more and it made him angry. I hated not being able to see. I tried to move my head so I could see something. Not only was he heavy but I had a covering on which made him heavier still. It irritated my legs and it was dirty.

I could smell a bull. He was bleeding. I could smell how scared he was. My owner pulled back the reins and tried to make me move. I didn't want to. Where was the bull? I couldn't see, but I knew the bastard wanted me to me closer towards him. I stood in the dense sand, not wanting to move, and he kicked me.

'I know you're scared, Chicero,' the bastard said in a quiet voice. I tensed and waited to be whipped because that voice was when he was about to do something bad. I dug my hooves into the sand. He'd taken me to do this before and a bull had knocked me over. The spectators were screaming and it ripped through my ears. I hated all the blood. I hated him.

I was getting too old. The slower I got the worse the whippings became. I knew he wanted to get rid of me. My legs ached when I moved them.

The bastard was getting angrier. He kicked me in the side with his heavy shoes. The bull from my last visit to the hotel had terrified me. It had been so aggressive and violent. I didn't know why it attacked me. I hadn't done anything. I didn't want to go near another bull and have the same thing happen.

But the bull this time was different. It didn't attack me. It made a sound like it was trying to tell me something.

'But if you don't go to the horse,' the bastard whispered. 'Then we'll have to punish you.'

Suddenly, he made me turn around and go out. I couldn't see where I was going, only that I stepped from sand onto a slippery floor. I just wanted to run around the field like the old man from before liked letting me do. I missed him. Why did he have to die? Why did the bastard have to take me instead?

This was horrible.

I hated him.

Behind me, the bull screamed. I could smell more blood. I hated it. The bastard had been away for weeks. I hoped he'd stay away. But then this morning, his servants brought me to the hotel, where bad things always happened. I tried to move my head but I couldn't because of the reins. I hated not being able to move.

'What a useless horse you are,' the bastard spat at me as he climbed off. He jerked my head higher. When he tied me up it was so painful as I couldn't move it. 'This is finally it. I'll send you to the glue factory. I've had enough of you.'

'Convention dictates that I must dedicate this bull to someone,' the bastard's friend Henry shouted somewhere behind me. He sounded pleased. He was going to do something bad to the bull. Everyone was clapping and it hurt my ears. I hated him. He was even worse than the bastard. He'd sit on me sometimes when they went hunting. I smelt blood on his clothes sometimes. The humans didn't seem to smell it.

Or maybe it didn't bother them.

'Allow me, then, to dedicate this first bull to the esteemed proprietor of this most magnificent of establishments, the great aficionado, my wonderful friend. Sir Jolyon Richmond. Who could fail to appreciate his excellent hospitality?'

As he spoke there was a huge crash of metal and wood. Was this part of the show? The bastard was always making me do crazy things, running through people's gardens and across roads looking for foxes. I didn't like it. I jumped and kicked out into the air. The noise of clapping and cheers had deafened me. But now there was nothing. Silence.