Baylee, A Novel– Chapter Four: A New Herd

We were alone, but we survived. We had to.

I never saw my mother or Aguila after that day. Some gossip at the water holes suggested that they had been seens in territories to the far north, where there was more water and food, but Sombre always shut it down, saying the humanos had turned them all into captive horses, like they did every time.

I wasn’t sure what to think.

The seasons changed. Summer turned to fall, and fall into winter. I experienced cold for the first time, and spent long hours standing next to Sombre to stay warm.

Every night, it got colder. And every night, I wondered whether we would survived.

And of course, every night Sombre would have an answer.

“Por supuesto que sobreviviremos. Of course we’ll survive!” He’d shake his mane and shove me playfully with one shoulder. “Do you doubt me so much, Potranca?”

“No.” I buried my nose in his mane. “I am only scared.”

“Do not listen to your fears.” He nickered. “We have survived this long. Soon enough, it’ll be spring again.”

At the time, I didn’t believe him. Winter seemed to go on forever. But sure enough, spring came, pushing away the snow, warming the world.

For the next four years, Sombre and I trekked across our world. I grew from a scrawny, short-legged filly to a well-built mare. Years of Sombre’s running exercises had turned my shoulders and haunches into powerhouses. I was short, yes, but I was strong.

Sombre grew tall, so tall I could no longer put my head on his back. His neck filled into a glorious crest, and when he bended it, the muscles flexed under his black and white coat in an impressive show of strength.

Sombre also began to add more mares to our group. I’d wake up in the middle of the night to find him gone, but by sunrise he’d be back with another mare or filly. He was beginning to build our herd.

A moon-spotted chestnut mare, Rubí,  became our lead mare. By my fourth spring, there were seven mares besides I. Two were full sisters, both black, one a year older than the other. The eldest was Cuerva, and the younger was Mirla. There was a meek buckskin filly with white feet, Lechuza, with a soft voice like feathers brushing against each other. Then there was storm-gray Torbellina, with a black mane and a head for mischief, and her half sister, a rich mud-colored mare with a sand-colored mane, Salvia.

And finally, there was Arena. My best friend.

Arena was a palomino mare with star-ticking on her flanks. She was the youngest of the mares that Sombre had ever brought home, shorter than even I with how young she was. The first night, she was so terrified that she didn’t even stand with the other horses, just stood at the edge and stared wildly towards the horizon.

I looked toward Sombre. “¿Dónde encontraste este? Where did you find this one?”

He swept his tail over his flanks. “Hidden in brush. Familia was taken by humanos. She’s a spring and two summers in age.”

I watched her with intrigue. “She has been through much?”

“Si,” He nibbled at the leaves on a gorse plant. “She needs a new familia, and we shall be that to her.”

I noticed her tattered, ripped ears. This wasn’t simple scars– these we gaps so large, her ears seemed to be made of lizard rocks, the stones full of holes that the scaled creatures would hide in.

“What happened to her ears?” I whispered.

He shifted. “I think you should ask her yourself. No es mi historia la que tengo que contar. It is not my story to tell.”

I hesitated, then finally, I approached Arena. “Hola.” I whispered.

She jumped, then her eyes registered my smaller size. As if deciding I wasn’t a threat, she lowered her head and shuffled her hooves.

“Hola.” She nickered.

“¿Cómo te llamas? What is your name?” I asked.

“Arena.” She licked her lips. “You are not going to hurt me, are you?”

“No.” I shook my mane. “I just wanted to meet you. Welcome to the herd.”

“Gracias.” She shivered a bit, as if her skin was covered in flies.

“Have you been without a herd long?” I asked.

She bobbed her head. “Three moons. Humanos.”

“Lo siento.” I murmured. “I know it is hard.”

“Gracias.” She looked up at me. “What is your name?”

Now it was my turn to look away. “I have no name. I was deemed Nameless at birth. I was given the nickname of Potranca, but that is all.”

She flicked her tattered ears toward Sombre. “Couldn’t he give you a name?”

“I suppose so. But it’s been a busy year. He probably hasn’t had time.” I swallowed back against the uncertainty in my gut. Sombre would give me a name, eventually.

“Ah.” Arena looked me up and down. “I was deemed Nameless too. I gave myself my own name– Arena.”

My eyes widened. “You did that?” I had never heard of anyone giving themselves their own name.

“Si.” For the first time, a defiant spark entered her eye. “You can choose your on name. We are not in our old herds. We can make our own rules.”

“But… this is the way of things.” I sputtered.

She switched her cloud-colored tail. “The way of things is not always the right way.”

I decided to ruminate on that sentence. I stepped closer to her, scratching her shoulder with my teeth. “Arena, I think we are going to be excellent amigas.”

“Si.” She nickered. “I think so too.”