I wrote this for a writing contest, and thought I'd share it on here! ^-^ Yeah, it's a short story, (Since there was a 6 page limit, it had to be short :( ) and it's nothing all that exciting, but I tried! xD And, it's about a horse. ;) Just an FYI, although I'm sure ya woulda figured it out, anyway. x) Oh, and feel free to comment to your heart's content! Good or bad. ;)
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_Soaring Eagle-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
My first breath was odd and shaky, seeing as it was the very first time I’d ever had to do so. I blinked open bleary eyes, so that a large form lying in front of me came into focus. I gazed for a moment at the large, round shape of what I would later learn was called a dark gray with one white stocking as a left foreleg. I somehow knew deep inside I was bonded to this large creature in front of me; turns out she’s my mother.
I saw her pretty, slightly dished face come up from the grass, and I watched her intently as she looked me over. She was just as interesting to me as I was to her. Then some odd sound seemed to come from deep inside her. It was a small, reassuring nicker, though I thought that behind the reassurance she sounded tired. She nuzzled me gently and then started licking me so I would be clean. I loved the feeling. I felt safe and protected.
But then Daddy came along. He was a tall dark bay with a black mane, tail, and legs. He looked happy, and relieved. Then he came closer and sniffed at me for a moment, before giving me a nudge. I let out my first little awkward noise, and I suppose I sounded surprised since I’d never been nudged like that before. I knew he was trying to tell me to do something.
I heard my stomach make a weird noise. I glanced at my stomach, then realized my father was telling me I should get up and eat. I looked up at dad, then boldly lurched up from the ground, not giving myself a moment to hesitate. I stayed up for a moment, but my tiny baby hooves were slowing sliding outward across the grass. It was painful. I lost my balance and fell to the ground in a heap of soft, bay fuzz. I curled my legs up under me and rolled onto my stomach, glaring determinedly at the ground before taking to my hooves again.
This time, I stood there. I didn’t dare move any further quite yet, so I watched as my mother got up and took a couple steps towards me. Then she nudged me too. I got the message. She was encouraging me to actually move. I dared a step forward, and succeeded. My reward being my first meal as a newborn colt. I didn’t even notice the young, tan human watching my progress.
Two summers later, I found myself almost a stallion. I was a handsome blood bay with a black mane and tail and three black socks. My left foreleg, adorned with a white stocking, was complemented nicely by a long white stripe running down my face. Or so everyone told me. I couldn’t see much of it myself. My human named me Soaring Eagle. I was the fastest in the camp, as well as third strongest, only to my older brother and my father. I was proud of who I was and what I had become.
I lived with the tawny-colored Native Americans in their camp. They all had long, shiny black manes and the human mares wore their manes in braids most the time. They all wore deerskin clothes decorated with shiny, little, colorful ‘beads’, as they called them. They evidently didn’t have very strong hooves; and I had to say, they had the oddest looking hooves I’d ever seen, but they were almost always covered by more fringed deer hide.
My particular bronzed-one was called Tall Tree. He was the age of a young stallion. He had just come back from his vision quest only hours after I was born. I was the gift given to him from his parents since he had become a full-grown stallion that day.
