The horses were coming.
Katara scrambled up into the branches of the oak tree as the ground shaking intensified, violin case banging against her back as she climbed. She would have normally been annoyed at the interruption to her practice, but seeing the Myartas was worth the pause.
Her fingers dug into the tree’s bark, fitting into the hundreds of notches that marred its trunk and branches. She swallowed hard as she swung up, leaning across the lowest branch and rubbing at the 2,200th notch.
Six years– 2,200 days today since she’d been left behind. Since she’d been kept “safe” while her parents became heroes.
Since she became alone.
A sharp whistle pricked her ears, filling her heart with an unexplainable joy and chasing away the moody darkness. Manes and tails flying, the Myartas galloped toward her tree, nostrils wide, hooves flung out. But their eyes weren’t wide, and they showed no sign of fear.
No, they were running for the fun of it. She could feel it in the wind, shifted in the tree with their cadence, almost seeing herself as one of those horses, running on through the white sand.
Behind them, the Myarta herders rode on their own steeds, whooping and cheering to each other. The leader, Jack Wolf, gave a second sharp whistle and the Myartas slowed around the tree, eventually dropping to graze.
Katara held her breath, enthralled with the glorious scene before her.
The herd paired off into respective family groups. The oldest stallion, Cauloden, searched his herd with a steely eye before he slowly began to graze beside his mare Jasalyn.
Calm. Quiet. Serene. She felt their peace flood her tortured mind, chasing away the thoughts and questions about her parents. It was here at times like this that she could breathe, relax; a time she didn’t feel so alone.
She watched a dappled gray Myarta mare on the outside of the group, tail swishing, looking lonely. She was a young thing, three years old. Surprising that she hadn’t bonded with a Raida yet. Most Myartas became either became a Patroda, Protector’s horse, or a Raida, Rider’s by the age of four. Not that she would know much about a Bonding Ceremony. She’d never found her Myarta– some of the Council Elders said that many foals had been taken by Apati, the black and red stallion who stalked the herd.
I know how you feel. She thought as she watched the young dappled mare graze by herself. She felt loneliness sting her heart, fingered her violin strap, wanting to pull out the instrument, play until the pain went away.
But she couldn’t. Not with people around. Not with the cowboys here.
So she rested her chin on her hands, watching the horses and letting their peacefulness wash over her.
Then, out of the blue, a wild, savage scream split the air, jerking heads into the air, stiffening the cowboys and filling Katara with a pure, cold dread. Stallions rallied their mares, who nickered to their little ones to stay closer. The cowboys shifted, exposing shot guns, even though they would be useless against this foe.
Because Apati was coming. The black and red horse galloped against the white sand, his amber eyes burning like hot coals, focused on one thing– the mares.
Stallions screamed challenges. Cowboys shouted warnings. None of it mattered. Apati knew this game– he knew how to slip through it. He was a tempastus Myarta, chaos.
Something would die tonight by his blood-red hooves.
The stallion charged through the herd, screaming, his cry terrible and savage. He swerved to avoid a blow by Cauloden and set his sights on the dappled mare.
No! Katara’s throat closed as she stared at the silver horse, feeling as if she were the one standing in the mare’s place, trapped, afraid, left behind by the fleeing herd.
The cowboys shouted, guns at the ready. But bullets wouldn’t be fast enough for Apati. Nothing was.
Katara jumped down from the tree, grasping her violin case, and began running to the silver mare.
I won’t leave you behind.
She met the mare from where she stood frozen, running a hand through her white mane and talking soothingly to her. But the gray was staring at the oncoming stallion, still charging, entrancing her in his cadence of deadly hoofbeats.
She waved a hand in front of the mare, pushed on her shoulder with all of her might, but nothing worked. The mare wasn’t going to move.
She turned. The stallion was still coming.
Katara did the last thing she could think of to do.
She pulled out her violin, took a deep breath, and facing the charging stallion, began to play.
Pain wove itself into that lilting, sorrowful song. Her fingers flew over the strings, and she let all of the emotions she normally hid out into the melody. She faced the mare as she played, moving slowly.
Come with me. She thought. We can be alone together. We can be the ones that we need.
The mare’s eyes flickered. She stepped forward.
Another scream. Another challenge.
Katara turned to find Apati behind her, striking the ground with his crimson hooves. He glared at her, angry that such a petty thing as a human could get between him and his prize.
She settled her chin back down on the violin and played again, faster. A wild, fierce tune spun from her fingers, attacking the stallion with unsaid anger.
Apati’s gaze turned from impertinence to nervousness. He rumbled, backing away.
Her song reached a crescendo, her feet dancing to the tune, swirling towards the dangerous stallion. The joy of the music took over and a grin spread on her face.
The stallion screamed again, crashing onto his haunches. He whirled, galloping, past the cowboys and back out into the great desert.
Katara lowered the violin, unsure of what just happened, the energy still throbbing in her veins.
The cowboys stared at her in amazement, thinking of what to make of her. Their gaze flicked to something behind her.
She turned to see the gray mare, reaching out to nuzzle her arm.
“She’s choosing you.” Jack Wolf said softly, taking off his hat. “Never seen it happen to a full-grown mare…”
Katara blinked away the tears in her eyes, caressing the mare’s cheek. She’d protected this mare, earned a friendship.
“You’re Harmony.” She whispered, stroking the white mane. “And now I am not alone.”
I really enjoyed reading this story, Allie!! Great job on it!!! 😀