Prologue

1.5K 46 2
                                    

Rain was frozen in fear. The village was being attacked. Chaos erupted everywhere. The smell of blood was in the air and gunshots drowned out her thoughts.

Rain's Native American owners fought fiercely against the intruders. They had horses like the Natives, but they also had guns. They wore dark blue clothing. Her mother reared and kicked one of the humans wearing US uniforms. Rain never understood war. To her it was full of needless death.

There was a high-pitched scream of pain. Rain struggled to stand, she was only three months old. She stumbled, but got up and ran in the direction of the cry. She stopped dead in her tracks. Horrified, she stared in disbelief. There in front of her lay her faded, lifeless mother. Rain tried not to cry, but sorrow crushed her. Tears welled up in her crystal eyes and spilled down her painted cheeks.

Her human came over to her, still very young. Little Creek is what the other humans called him. He put his arms around my neck. He had been crying, too, he was only about eight years old. Rain sucked in air and the smell of death filled her nostrils. She saw her father in the distance. He was fighting another human and his horse. Rain's father's rider held an ax and the opponent's rider held a gun. The gun was fired. Rain's heart stopped. Hadn't she suffered enough loosing her mother? Now her father?

Rain could hardly take it. She had wished it was all just a horrible dream, but it wasn't. She now had no parents.



Spirit Stallion Of The Cimarron: Rain's StoryWhere stories live. Discover now