Majesty

7. Triumphant King

Dark Night could smell the mares long before his herd neared the ranch. His body tingled as a barn appeared in the distance. He whinnied to the horses in the pastures and galloped closer. The lead mare of his own herd followed him, guiding his other horses behind her.

Mares. His ears twitched excitedly and his breath quickened. Half a dozen mares grazed in the nearest pasture with a few geldings. They heard his whinny and turned to watch as he approached with his herd. Several were in heat; he could smell it. The urge to breed overwhelmed him. He shook his mane and whinnied again feverishly. Hungrily. He needed them.

He pushed himself to run faster, surging toward his prize. The gap between them closed so quickly that he didn't notice the fence until it was too late. He locked his legs and skidded to a halt, crashing through the dilapidated wood at full force. Splinters flew in every direction, including into his skin, but he didn't care. He sucked in huge breaths of air and stalked closer to the mares, snorting loudly.

The other horses trotted back and forth anxiously, watching his antics. They grouped together, shying away from him and toward the back fence. They fear me. Pride welled up in his chest. A white gelding nudged them closer to each other, keeping himself between them and the invading stallion. This must be their alpha. The stallion whinnied sharply and stomped his hoof. He wasn't here for a fight. He was here for the mares. And he would take what he came for.

A stunning dappled palomino whinnied back at him and pranced excitedly, leaving the group of skittish horses. She was a young mare and clearly in heat. He could feel a pull towards her, a powerful urge to make her his. The gelding nickered to her and moved forward, trying to urge her toward the others, but she spun around and nipped at him, refusing his order. She hadn't formed a bond with his herd yet. He had no power over her.

Several horses neighed and whinnied, pacing nervously. The palomino nickered to the stallion and rubbed her muzzle against his neck. He snorted delightedly and nudged her back. A second mare, chestnut in color, lingered at the edge of her herd, unsure of which alpha to listen to. The stallion locked his eyes on her and bolted directly into the mass of horses, chasing her out of the group. The gelding let out a scream of protest and worked frantically to collect his scattered horses back together.

The stallion chased his chosen mare across the pasture and cut her off, forcing her towards his own herd. He drove her to the broken fence, nipping at her heals until she relented to his prodding and left the pasture. The palomino followed curiously as he chased the other mare into his mix of horses, snorting in triumph.

The human voices that began shouting from the farmhouse beyond the pasture alerted him to a more urgent need than the impulse to breed. He screamed in alarm. His other horses heard the voices as well and were eager run. It took hardly a prompting from the lead mare before they galloped away in a unified mass, leaving the domestic herd behind them.

He galloped beside the palomino, proud of his conquest. More mares to breed with. More power to take pride in. More subjects to rule.