Prologue

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The filly struggled, her eyes wide. Her pupils were dilated in fear and the whites of her eyes were plainly visible as her eyes rolled in panic.

She had been bound by rough, thick cords, a hind leg lifted off of the ground. The more she struggled, the tighter the ropes became, rubbing against her sweat-soaked coat.

The filly writhed harder, trying to escape as she heard the deep chuckles of her tormentor as he approached. The ropes cut into her skin, drawing blood in multiple places until her normally shiny golden coat was flecked with red. Her mouth foamed as she lashed wildly.

The man came into her line of sight. He was grinning as he walked around her, watching the filly’s panic with a kind of satisfaction. He would wait until she had tired herself, then bring in the next step of what he liked to call “the breaking.” No horse or mustang had ever been able to withstand his methods. He was above them all, and they would all sooner or later succumb to him and his commands.

The filly continued to struggle. She could feel herself getting weaker, her rope burns stinging as the rough cords dug into her skin. The wild light in her eyes began to dim, as her thrashes began to weaken and slow.

All at once, utterly spent and unable to support her weight on three legs, the filly collapsed onto the unforgiving dirt.

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⏰ Last updated: Jan 10, 2015 ⏰

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