I recently hosted an email newsletter-only short story contest for my subscribers, with the prizes of getting custom illustrations and publishing on my website. For the next three weeks I will be posting the third, second, and first place entries. If you would also like to be able to join awesome contests, get book reviews, and access subscriber-only content, sign up for my email list at the bottom of the page. You’ll also get my novella, The Wild Side of the Mountain.
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For a long time now, the pain and fear had gripped her, plaguing her soul with dogged persistence. She couldn’t escape. She was surrounded by barriers. No way out. It had all started with the terrifying metal bird. Only fragments of the days came back to her now: endless running; fear clamping her heart in its iron grip; her band screaming as they fled around her. Then looming out of the dust, she had seen the wooden poles. They encased, trapped, and she was free no more. At first, she was glad to rest, but then the full reality of her situation washed over her. She became frantic, calling for her band. But no one answered. They were all gone. This was long ago now; she had stood here for months. Through summer’s heat, fall’s chill, and finally, winter’s bite. Sleet slanted through the air, coating her in icy encasements. Once it would have run right off her, but her coat had thinned. During the summer people had come. Some of the horses had left, but not her. She was locked in this place with no escape.
“That’s the last one.”
Her head jerked up at the still unfamiliar sound of human voices. She pinned her ears, fear consuming her.
“Kinda scrawny, isn’t it?”
Two men were walking towards her. The one who had spoken first she recognized; he had come here before in the summer. The second man tilted his head critically as they approached.
“She’s young is all. About two.”
The men reached her pen and leaned against the bars. She skittered backwards, sliding in the frozen mud. The motion sent a wave of pain through her, and she shivered even more. The second man shrugged, and then spoke.
“I’ll take her and that gelding.”
He pushed off the fence and headed back the way he had come. The first man followed. She should have felt relief that they had left, but all she felt was the cold and the pain in her legs. It was radiating to her spine now. She slipped back into the cold dark place of her mind she had been living in for a long time now. Eventually the man returned with a truck and trailer. She came to life so suddenly she surprised herself. She leapt sideways, away from the thing she knew would swallow her.
“Come here,” the man said as he approached the gate. He unfastened it and stepped aside.
She stared at him, wild eyed. The gate was open, but it only led to the gaping mouth of the trailer. The man walked around the pen until he was behind her. She whipped around to face him, pain lacing through her joints as she did so.
“Come on, get in the trailer.” His voice was bland, as though he had done this before. She shied as he waved his arms in the air.
“Go on, get!” The sudden rise in his tone made her back up. He advanced, dropping down into the pen. She took one last look at him before she turned and gave in. She shuddered as the metal clanked unnaturally under her hooves; the darkness swallowed her. At least she was out of the sleet. The light was abruptly cut off as the man swung the tail gate shut. The walls seemed to close in, and her breathing quickened. She lost her footing as the trailer moved forwards. But before she even got used to the motion, they stopped again. The gate swung down, and a tired gelding climbed aboard. He smelled of defeat. She recognized him as the once great stallion of the east band, now without his freedom or family. The trailer lurched, and they were off once more. Darkness, pain, cold wind whistling through cracks. No rest, no stops, no food. The pain in her bones was worsening. All the fear and loneliness was crashing over her, in time to the motion of the truck. She hung her head between her knees, the will to keep going slipping away with every jolt and bump. And then they stopped. Light flooded the trailer as the back was opened. She heard human voices, gentle ones. She was vaguely aware of being backed out of her jail, of being led into warmth.
“You’re safe now,” the whisper tickled her ear. “We won’t let him take you to slaughter.”
She slipped in and out of her mind as she was loaded onto another trailer. And before she could even comprehend what was happening, she was in a warm pen. Surrounded by light. The days passed in a blur.
She was aware of people coming and going, tending to her. Day by day the fog in her mind receded. When it finally left, she felt as though she had just woken from a long sleep. She looked about and saw she was inside a large barn. Turning, she prepared herself for the pain that would inevitably follow.
But it never came. She felt life and vigor pumping through her veins for the first time since being captured. Her liver chestnut coat was no longer ragged and thin, but full and shiny. One of the humans approached her, and she stiffened. But the human’s scent was familiar. She realized it was the one who had whispered to her and cared for her all these long days. She relaxed and huffed a greeting.
“Hello, Moth,” the human said in her soft voice as she reached out and rubbed her neck. She was surprised how nice it felt. “It’s good to see you aware again.”
Another human came up to them. “Hi Claire,” the human rubbing her neck greeted.
“Moth’s doing much better, isn’t she May?” Claire commented.
“Lots. I think she’ll be ready to go out with the others soon.”
She stood, the feeling of safety washing over her. The humans kept calling her Moth. Was that her name? She leaned into May’s scratching hand. She missed her freedom, but this was nice.
Days passed, this time in happy bliss. May, Claire, and a few others continued to care for her, and before Moth knew it, May was leading her out the door of the barn and into the sunshine. Moth looked around. Fences were on either side of her, but they stretched into the distance and disappeared, unlike the fences of her old pen.
May released her. For a moment, Moth just stood there, the sunlight streaming through the air and striking warmth into the deepest parts of her soul. The breeze ruffled her mane, and Moth closed her eyes. The scents of her old life washed over her, and peace filled her. She may not be entirely free, but she was in a wide-open space, where sky reached down to meet land.
Then a new scent drifted to Moth. Her band. Moth kicked up her heels and ran, dirt racing away beneath her hooves as though she were flying. Oh, how she had missed this! Moth crested a rise, barely daring to hope, but, yes, her family. Joy coursed through her like electricity, and she called to them, her voice echoing off the heavens.
She was home.
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Author Bio
Madelyn Nygaard is a horse loving writer who can be found reading, writing, doing horsey stuff, and researching random things on any given day.
Great job writing this, Madelyn! I enjoyed reading it.