The summer after Arena arrived was the worst drought I had ever seen. Even Rubi, who had lived in seven different herds and knew almost every secret water hole in the valley, had a hard time finding water.
“The humanos will be after us again.” Sombre warned. “From now on, we only travel at night. We stay to the Sin Luna places during the day.”
No one argued. It was cooler in the caves, and moisture condensed on the walls so thick it formed rivers at the bottom. The water sometimes tasted off, but it wasn’t bitter, and none of us ever got sick.
The other herds began to gather at the watering holes at night as well. It was too cold at night to swim, but the water was there, and under the wary eyes of our stallions, the mares shared the latest chisme, gossip. News was spreading about the humanos and their most recent attacks. None of the old stallions that I knew from previous summers were there, save for Sol, the powerful palomino stallion, and Sombre. Both of them were very strong and young– did the humanos know this? Was that why they never captured us? But then again, Aguila was strong too. Why take him?
“We were captured this week.” Ceniza whispered to the other mares as we drank under the silver moon.
As I heard her words, I jerked my head up from the creek, water flying from my whiskers onto my coat. “Captured? By the humanos?”
“Si.” The moon-colored mare looked grave. “We were shoved into traps of glinting moonbeams that were solid like rocks. They separated us, one by one, and poked things into our necks. I still have swelling from it, see?” She turned her head so we could see the small welt on her neck. She shook her mane. “They took the foals, the yearlings, the two and three-springs. But they let us older ones live.”
“How strange.” Arena murmured. “Why only the younglings?”
“Who knows the ways of humanos?” Rubi snorted. “They’re trouble. The coyotes don’t faze them. Not even the lobo packs. They just fight for what they want and there is no one to stop them.”
“It isn’t right!” Cuerva snorted. “They cannot just come in and take over things.”
“It’s the way things are.” Mirla nickered, nudging her older sister’s flank. “Calm yourself, sister. There is no need to be so excited. We cannot afford to exhaust ourselves over these things. There is enough on our minds. The drought is getting worse. There are too many horses and not enough water.”
All of us looked at the small pool in front of us. If water became too scarce, there would be no more meetings by watering holes. The stallions would go to war against each other, fighting for water rights. Even now, the four stallions from the herds that remained eyed each other suspiciously. Sombre seemed indifferent, but he was also the youngest. He couldn’t afford to enter a fight he could not win. Sol and the dark bay stallion from across the valley, Trueno, were glaring at each other from the corners of their eyes. And scarred Halcón, the cream-colored stallion with sky-eyes like Sombre’s, stood very close with his lead mare Polla. Neither of them ever stopped to chat with the other herds.
“Perhaps there will be rain this fall.” I nickered. “Perhaps there will be storms. Then we will not have to worry about water.”
“El Creador willing, there will be.” Ceniza said. “He knows our needs. He provides for all.”
As if in response to her words, the air rustled with a wind of promise. Every mare and stallion stopped, listening to the silent whispers in the words.
For a long time, everyone was silent. Even Trueno and Sol stopped glaring at each other. As the words disappeared, a sort of peace fell among the herds. Trueno and Sol wisely turned their backs to each other.
“I wonder if the humanos can hear El Creador’s whispers.” Arena murmured.
Rubi snorted. “You would think He would give them such a gift, seeing as they are His Chosen Creations. If they could, why would they harm us? You know that El Creador gave us a Fear of them for the good of both of our species. In the Fallen World, we are prey, they are predator. It shall be so till el día que regrese, The Day He Returns.”
“Maranatha.” All of the mares murmured in one voice.
“The humanos cannot be all bad then, if El Creador made them to be His Chosen.” I said.
“Well…” Torbellina scratched a fly bite on her chest. “They are His Chosen because He gave them what we do not have. The Free Will to leave Him. Many of them choose to leave, and that is what makes them bad.”
“Or, they choose to leave, and then they worship us!” Salvia snorted. “I heard that from a captured kin.”
“Worship us?” I tried to comprehend such a thing. Worship was relegated to El Creador and El Creador only. Every creature and living thing on earth sang it. It was in the bird’s sonnets, the cricket’s serenades. Even the silent leafy things, if I listened hard enough, whispered praises. How could the humanos be so blind to it?
“Humanos do not know the meaning of balance. They think that we fear them too much. Hah! We fear what is dark in them.” Rubi shook her mane. “No more talk of humanos! They are a problem, yes, but we cannot worry the younglings with such things. El Creador provides us the hiding places. He knows what we need.”
I thought of all the foals and yearlings and two-springs captured by the humanos. “Why would El Creador allow our kind to be captured?” I whispered.
All of the mares were silent for a long time.
Finally, it was meek Lechuza who spoke. “El Creador is far beyond any mortal creature’s understanding. When in the Beginning of the World, he gave the First Humano charge over us all, it was meant to be our caretakers. In the Perfect World, there was no such thing as drought or not enough grass. We do not live in the Perfect World. We live in the Fallen World, where there is death and not enough grass and not enough water. We do not fear death, because we know the End. But the humanos fear it because they choose not to know the End. They, unlike us, can choose the Eternal Darkness. In the Fallen World, we are given the task of pointing the humanos to El Creador, before they reach that point.”
At Lechuza’s whispered words, all of the mares seemed to somber. Rubi’s ears flopped over to the sides.
“El Creador, forgive me.” Rubi whispered. “I forget our place sometimes.”
“Every creature groans with the pain endured in the Fallen world.” Ceniza said. “One day, it shall not be so.”
I nodded in agreement, although part of my mind still held to the fear.
Until the Day that El Creador returned, I would never trust a humano.
Looking forward to chapter 6!