One-shots

The last brumby

Once, the majestic creatures roamed freely. The ranges were their home. The beautiful horses galloping in herds. The thudding of their hooves, the beating of their heart. The way they speak to us through the sparkle in their eyes. Flint stones every step they take, up on those bare old plains. When their instincts take over there no stopping them, as the bold yet, elegant horse comes out. The flight creature inside them instantly flickers in their eyes as they rush away. They speak to me as I watch them in the distance. Snowy mountain brumbies have an unforgettable presence in my heart.

Only one brumby is left to strive. When the quiet country air suddenly gets loud, you know what's about to happen. The stallion gets closer. I can sense his emotions changing in an instant. The brumby is fearful of his surroundings as his ears quiver back and forth. Finally, he lines them up again as if someone was lining up a sniper about to shoot a target. Determined to keep moving, the horse focuses and run's like the wind. My heart pounding probably faster than the stallion's as I cautiously think about the armed monsters of this world. Now all that's left is the last brumby.

The fresh vibrant grass was their source of food, the sheltering trees keep them unharmed in a storm, the river stream running across the grassland kept them alive. Now, all that is left are these things that kept the snowy mountain horses alive and the last brumby.