I don’t remember much of what happened next. Most of my memories are fuzzy, not quite exact. My most clear memories are from inside the metal box, after the humans had herded us into them.
“Where are they taking us?” I rasped. The stallions and colts had been separated– it was just the mares and foals in the box.
The mares were silent, shuffling.
“I hear,” One silver mare began. “I hear that they take us to large traps, full of other horses, and they wait for other humanos to carry us away.”
“Maybe they are going to release us.” A three-spring filly stammered.
“Aya! They are not going to release us.” Polla, the lead mare snapped, foam sweat flecking her back and her white-rimmed eyes rolling “They are going to keep us like a buzzard keeps death. Our futures are uncertain.”
At this, some of the youngest foals began to cry out, fearful, before their mothers soothed them with soft words.
“Enough, Polla.” The silver mare growled. “There is no good in scaring the younglings. We cannot have them bolting when we arrive.” She bent her head to brush her tongue against her colt’s back.
“I heard one herd say that they just pricked their necks and then set them free.” I murmured hopefully.
“They also didn’t shove them into metal boxes.” Polla shook her head.
Silence fell after that. I aligned myself with a gap in the box so I could see out a little bit, and gasped.
Around us were many traps, and dozens of horses. I called out to them, but they didn’t answer me. Didn’t even lift their head.
The box, which had been moving steadily for a long while, came to a stop. There was much clanking around outside, and the voices of the humanos rose in the air.
Then light split the end of the box. Freedom!
I bolted out first, hoping that perhaps the humanos were letting us go, but instead I found myself in a trap with rusty bars like red tree branches and a great gray covering that blocked out the sun.
Another trap.
I whirled to find another opening, but the other mares were already spilling out of the pen. I could not see a way out through the throngs of bodies.
I ran to the edge of the bars, galloping alongside them in hopes of a gap. I thought of jumping, but they were above my chest. I could not jump them if I tried.
El Creador, why?
Finally I gave up and returned to the herd, my sides heaving from exertion. Water. I wished for water.
The smell and sound of a splash sent me turning. Along one end of the pen was a long thing made of molten moonlight. Several horses drank from it.
Water.
Tentatively, I stepped forward and dipped my nose in. The water was warm, but what did I care? It was water!
The humanos water.
I stopped, water dripping from my whiskers. This did not make sense. Why would the humanos provide water if they were going to kill us?
Polla had found the water as well, and nickered to the other mares to partake in it. I snorted. Humanos or not, water was water. And I had never been so thirsty in my life.
I felt as if someone was watching me. I whirled, facing three humanos who leaned against the fence, their close eyes scanning all of us in different manners.
One was thin and gangly, like a colt that had not grown into its legs, and his voice was an illegible whining, like a cicada. His eyes roamed over us like a shifty coyote on the hunt, and his body shifted movement with a sneaking, lithe motion, sending an uneasy signal of predator coursing through my veins. A second, short but well built, stood on the other end, silent. His gaze was so shaded by the thing on his head I could not see his eyes.
The third humano took me by surprise. He was tall, stocky, like a stallion that had the blessing of spending many summers with good grass. He wore a thing on his head as well, but it was tilted differently, so I could completely read his face. His gaze was not predator, or shaded, but an analyzing look, like a stallion counting the amount of horses in his herd to make sure all of them are there, or a mare watching over a mischievous foal.
He was the most relaxed of the three of them, and he did not strike me as predator like the others did. He didn’t say much, but when he did speak, his voice was a rumbling cadence, something between a lope and a nicker.
His eyes were light, sky-eyes like Sombre.
I snorted, sorrow gripping my heart. Sombre. I had run out, disobeyed him, and look where it had gotten me. Trapped, a captive in the humanos’ hand.
I wished I had never run. I could have spent so many more springs by his side. Instead, it was all gone.
The sky-eyed human suddenly shifted, saying something to the lanky one. His head bobbed up and down.
The sky-eyed human focused completely on me, his posture and gaze soft, almost friendly.
“What do you want with me?” I snapped, whisking my tail over my flanks.
He made sound, but it was incoherent to me.
I trotted back to the herd, fast.
I don’t understand humanos. But I’m not letting one take me from the herd without a fight.
Perhaps, if I fought hard enough, they would let me go, see I was not worth eating.
El Creador, please, make them let me go.
But there was no wind, and I could not hear El Creador’s voice among the cacophony of my frightened kin.
