I remember that frightening day when I was taken from the wild. From my mother. My herd. My family. From the ones that tried to stop my captors. I remember how the men viciously attacked them. I remember rearing up on my back legs as they tried to slip something around my neck. After that, though, I do not really remember much. I remember something shattering against my back leg, a lot of blood, then nothing.
I guess that they somehow managed to capture me because when I awoke, I was in a very small box I later learned they called a "trailer". Every part of my body hurt. I had a deep gash in my left back leg. It had become infected and hurt horribly. The leg would no longer hold any weight. It itched a lot. But when I itched I would cry out so loud that the men would pull over. When they opened the doors, I would kick. More often than not I would hit my target. The an I would hit would scream in some foreign language that I could not quite understand. Then he would switch to Enlish. He would say things like "Damned horse" and "Stupid animal". I would send my pain to the vast sky above. I just wanted to be back home with my herd.
After we had traveled for many long weeks, I began to feel lost and trapped. I was in unfamiliar territory. When we finally stopped, I was led out of the trailer. I began to act very aggressively. I reared up, knocking the man who was holding me to the ground. I ran. By the time the man had recovered, I had already run a little ways away. I couldn't return to my beloved herd because sadly I didn't know where I was. I thought I saw another horse. She looked like she was from my herd. I whinnied to her. I guess she was afraid of getting caught, because she didn't respond. The only thing she did was make a guesture I think to run. I pricked my ears. That's when I heard what had frightened the poor mare. The man had recovered.
