Storm

Chapter 1: The Begining

I lazily stared at the sun, laying on my back under the old oak by barn. It was a cloudy July day, perfect for riding. I got up, heading to the corral to snatch my horse, Storm, to tack her up. I stopped for a moment to look at my small house, knowing it was and would stay empty with no one to want me or worry.

I sighed as I grabbed my lasso before going into the corral. I walked over to my faithful brown, black, and white paint Tennessee Walker. Her mane and tail were solid black and her body was covered in large patches of white, black, and brown with 3 coal black hooves and one white.

I loosely put the lasso around her neck, rubbing her pink nose.
"Wanna go ride, Storm?" I asked quietly, looking her in the eye.

She bobbed her head up and down before she proceeded to pull me out of the corral and to the barn. I laughed softly as I followed along side her and into the barn. I didn't bother tying her up as I went to the tack closet to get what I needed. I smiled at the picture hanging on the door of me and Storm not long after I got her. I smiled more at the memory.

~Flashback(kinda)~

It was 3 years ago, when I was 12, I and my dad were out on the range during an awful lightning storm trying to find a missing cow. She was due to calf tonight of all nights and all of our cattle and horses had made it in but her.

Dad was riding old Trusty, our palomino half-blood Quarter-horse, and I was riding Abigail, my old chestnut Quarter-horse. Both of us were soaked to the bone, as were our horses. After about 2 hours of fighting the storm, we found the cow and her calf. Soon after spotting the two, I heard a panicked whinny then rapid hoof-beats coming our way.

Dad hog-tied the calf, putting it over Trusty's neck while I quickly lassoed the angry cow and tied my end of the rope to the horn of Abagail's saddle. I grabbed my extra lasso and hopped off, running in the direction of the noise while ignoring my father's loud protests.
I slid to a stop, the rain blurring my vision. I wiped my eyes frantically and when I looked up there was a beautiful black Tennessee Walker, heavy with foal, walking straight for me against the rain. Once she got close enough, I could see the fear and panic in her eyes.
I walked to her, talking to her soothingly as I lowered the lasso on her neck. Everything else seemed to speed up. Taking her back to dad, then us taking her, the cow, and the calf back home, the mare birthing her filly, then dying of hypothermia. It was one of the best and one of the worst days of my life. I stayed up for nights on end bottle feeding the filly after endlessly pleading with dad. I eventually named her Storm after I was sure she'd live. I've had her since.

She's all I have left....