Galloping Gunfire

Galloping Gunfire Part 1

I could feel the soft, cool breeze in my auburn hair as Alaska cantered across the open field towards the house. A smile spread over my face as the gleaming sun's rays touched my face. I always felt content while on the back of a horse. Horses were my entire life, and every minute of every day I spent with horses. I have always loved horses, as the magnificent creatures listen carefully to every word I say, and they never say a word back to me or to anyone else. That is what I call true friendship.

When I was 6 years old, my mother bought me my very first horse. I named her Alaska. I fell in love with her straight away; the soft brown colour of her mane, the pure white glow of her body, the silky texture of her nose and her bright blue eyes. She was the most beautiful horse I had ever seen, and I saddled her up right away.

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As soon as Alaska had come to a stop in front of the house, I slid off of her back and tied her up. I pulled a carrot out of my jacket pocket and quickly gave it to her. I heard her make a soft snort as I turned and walked through the gate towards the small brick house I lived in. I had barely gone through the door when I heard a sharp pop and an ear-piercing squeal. My eyes practically burst out of their sockets as I recognised the high pitched sound. I turned around and peered through the window in the door. I gasped and a tear ran down my cheek.

Alaska was in trouble.