Takes Two To Tango

I was only a little foal, a new born practically. I was a paint. vivid russet colors painted all over my body, splotches of white. me and my mother looked identical, it was mid-day, our herd was by a low trickling river with salmon running through it as rabbits ran through the long grass spooking the other herd members.
and then, whinnes and crys poured out of the air. a pack of wolves; they sprung forward as my mother nuzzled me making my weak legs to get up. she nipped at one of the low-rank wolves, and bucked at a wolf that we liked to call 'Timber' the herd fled as I sprang up running along with the rumps of other horses in my face...