Chapter One
Morgana stared boredly over the old brown wooden fence. Her white mane was in her eyes, as usual. She was ignoring the other horses that were in the field, and the strappers, the two legged creatures that put pieces of dead animals on the horses. She considered them noisy things, but didn't mind her own.
But the curious mare always wondered what was beyond the fence. Morgana shook her mane to clear her eyesight. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a familiar dark brown appaloosa colt heading towards her. Jet.
Jet was a tad older than her, but they had been foaled in the same season. Yet Morgana had to take care of him with everything. He was clingy and sometimes quite annoying. But she had to put up with the young stallion.
"Morgana, why do you always look over the fence like that?" He asked her quietly, for once.
"I don't know, Jet. I just feel drawn to it, like I'm supposed to be there."
Jet just smirked lightly, he obviously thought that she didn't have a choice in the world about her life. Just then the most annoying horse in the world trotted over, followed by Yankee.
Morgana snorted to herself, one horse brings two others. Yankee wasn't so bad, but Priscilla... Morgana stopped herself there.
"So, found out if any good horses are in your pedigree?" Priscilla's high pitched voice seemed to pierce the most inner parts of her ear.
"No, of course not. Don't be silly, Priscilla," Morgana nickered.
"Not really, I found out that I have..." Morgana stopped listening to Priscilla's bragging and galloped across the clearing to the middle of the field.
Luckily no one followed her and the palomino one year old was by her self again. Soon the other horses scattered, allowing her to go back to her corner in the shade of the lush maple tree. The soft call of a dove echoed from the forest and Morgana twitched her ears towards the sound. But nothing else came from the forbidden place. She flipped her ears back to the normal position.
The afternoon sun blazed across the field and Morgana was grateful for the small amount of shade covering her pretty golden coat.
But out in the woods, there had to be more horses. Bays, duns, blacks, chestnuts, maybe even a few cremellos. Morgana ducked her head. No way would she ever be able to leap the fence, run off in the woods and join them. Wait, she could do that.
But would she be able to forgive herself for leaving all of her friends? Morgana sighed and shook her head, no. She wouldn't. It was impossible.
. . .
The evening had finally arrived. She was out in the field after a long day of rides and lessons. Finally some more time to think about freedom. Her decision had to be final. If she did try to escape, there would be no coming back. Morgana pawed the ground nervously.
But if she did go, what would happen to Jet and the strappers?
"What are you thinking about?"
It was Yankee. His voice was calm and quiet.
"Nothing. I'm fine," Morgana lied.
Yankee nodded slowly. He didn't press her on, to Morgana's relief. He just turned and trotted to the other side of the field, leaving her alone to think. She half wished he had stayed to give her someone to talk to, but she wasn't about to call him back.
Morgana then realized something. Even if she did go out there, what if there were dangerous horses out there?
Suddenly, in the dim light, she spotted a slim chestnut figure. The horse flicked its ear and then to more join it. As if on a silent signal, all three melted into the twilight woods.
Morgana blinked and swished her tail, had she been imagining things? No, the scent was still in the air. So they had to be real. The horses had seemed to be guarding something. But what?
There was a way to find out, but did she dare? Morgana shook her head. Not yet, maybe soon. As she turned around, she felt a nagging tug on her back. She twitched her shoulder uncomfortably. But it didn't go away.
Morgana couldn't stop thinking about how graceful the horses had looked. She could be one of them, right? But they were also scarred and looked violent. She would be risking her neck doing that. But still the little voice in her head told her it was worth it. You know you want to!
So Morgana spun around, and without thinking straight, took a running start, and leaped over the fence and into the forest that had been on her mind, for the past month.
The horses were no where to be seen. Where could they have gone so fast? Morgana wondered. The palomino stepped farther into the woods and further away from the safety of the strappers.
Then, when she could no longer see the farm, she came to her senses. Those horses had been scarred and muscular. They could kill her easily. She twisted her head around, but couldn't see the farm. Her ears flicked nervously. But she trotted on, further and further into the woods.
She heard a stick crack, and Morgana jumped. Yet she didn't dare turn back. She had made her choice and had to stick with it. But a prick of unease sparked across her withers.
The palomino shrugged and pushed onward through a patch of ferns and found herself surrounded by the tallest oak trees she had ever seen. She slowed to a walk and brushed through the dead leaves that coated the ground.
Suddenly a chestnut streak shot through the trees and knocked her onto her her side. Morgana's breath was caught in her throat as she tried to get up. But then the two other horses cantered through the broken fronds of bracken where the chestnut horse had broke through. She turned her head to see her attacker and let out a shriek as she saw hooves pawing above her head.
The feet of the chestnut came down inches from her nose. Morgana flinched and stopped trying to right herself. She looked up at the chestnut's face. Her face was cold and smirking at the young mare.
"So what makes you think that a pony can just walk onto ForestHerd territory and then just get away with it?" The chestnut snorted fiercely, her eyes sparking with anger.
Morgana almost laughed. "I'm not a pony. I am a horse, Ponies are under-"
"I'm not talking about that, broomtail. Pony is our word for the soft 'horses' who live with backriders!" The chestnut interrupted with an annoyed snort.
"Oh," Morgana whispered.
The dark bay stallion laughed and the gray mare nudged him.
"Well come on then. We have to take you back to headquarters," The chestnut muttered. "My name's Lightning Strike."
"Morgana," She told Lightning Strike.
The three wild horses led Morgana to the headquarters of ForestHerd.
She was awestruck by the sheer number of horses. A dark red roan mare was speaking to two young foals, two stallions were sparring, a palomino was grooming a pale red roan, a pinto stallion brush past her with a dark liver colt following him. The colt paused to stare at Morgana before hurriedly trotting to catch up with the pinto.
A flaxen chestnut stallion darted out of a cave in the corner of the clearing and a silvery gray mare trotted after him. Lightening Strike paused near the pair and they quickly conversed with quiet low tones that Morgana couldn't make out.
The flaxen stallion finally nodded and beckoned to Morgana.
"So you're a pony?" He asked.
Remembering the meaning of the word to these horses, she nodded. "Yes I am."
He smiled a little. "My name is Dancing Sun and I am the lead stallion of ForestHerd. Lightning Strike tells me that you got a tad lost on our territory."
Morgana started to protest, only to realize that he was teasing. So she nodded.
