Prologue: Rising Fire: A Spirt Stallion of the Cimarron/Untamed Fanfiction

by Allie Lynn
(USA)

“Rabbit, wake up!”

Ten-year-old Rabbit’s eyes flashed open as soon as she heard her name. Her father was smiling down at her, and by the coolness, it was still night.

“Father?” She mumbled. “What is it?”

Her father, Little Creek, held a finger to his lips, looking over at her mother and her baby brother. She nodded, understanding the need for quiet.

“The mustangs are here.” He whispered.

Her heart raced. The mustangs. Not just any wild ones—no, her father was referring to the herd of the stallion Spirit-Who-Could-Not-Be-Tamed, that handsome, wild creature that her father managed to gain the trust of and ride, so many years ago. His own mare Rain had run away to live with him, but every spring they came back.

She knew why they had lingered so close to the camp.
“Is Rain—” She whispered, following her father out of their teepee.

“She is.” He nodded. “Come. I saw her wander away from the herd and came to get you.”
She shivered and pulled her cloak closer. Rain always came to the woods near their summer camp to foal.

For the past two years, ever since she was eight, Rabbit had been going out on nights like this with her father, to see the births of the foals of his beloved mare.

“I wonder if Rising-Fire is still in the herd.” She wondered, thinking of the colt that was almost an exact copy of his father. “He was such a handsome one.”

“I saw him with the herd. He will not be there longer than a year. He’s already taller than his father.”

Father took her through the woods, stepping quietly. He peeled back the brush and pointed. “Ah. Looks like we came just at the right time.”

She looked over his shoulder and gasped. There was Rain, licking the coat of a palomino pinto foal, who’d just managed to stand on her thin legs. She swayed from side to side uneasily.

“A filly.” Father whispered. “Well done, Rain.”

“She is beautiful.”

Rabbit turned her eyes and tapped her father’s shoulder. “Father! Look!”

She smiled broadly as she saw the stallion, Spirit-Who-Could-Not-Be-Tamed, and that look-alike colt Rising-Fire, trotting over to greet Rain and the new filly. The stallion sniffed the filly all over, nickering.

Rising-Fire, however, had pricked his head toward them. He caught sight of them and laid his ears back, snorting.

Both Rain and Spirit-Who-Could-Not-Be-Tamed jerked their heads up. At the sight of them, they relaxed, Spirit-Who-Could-Not-Be-Tamed shoving Rising-Fire with his head gently.

“He remembers us.” Rabbit whispered excitedly.”
“I have been watching the births of his foals for the past twelve years.” Father laughed. “I certainly hope he remembers me.”

Rising-Fire was curious now. He trotted forward, sticking his nose into the brush, jerking away as Father raised a hand.

“He is a fine colt indeed.” Father said.
Rabbit smiled. “The name I chose for him suited him well, didn’t it?”

“It did.” Father gently blew on Rising-Fire’s face. The colt snorted and sniffled his arm.

Spirit-Who-Could-Not-Be-Tamed bit him gently on the rump and herded him toward the fields. Rising-Fire went reluctantly, as if he still wanted to investigate them.

“I should like to tame a horse someday.” Rabbit said.

Father laughed. “Perhaps one day you will.”

She was woken up once again.

But not by Father this time.

There was screaming. She looked outside and darted out of the way just as a frightened horse barreled towards her.

The sight horrified her. Teepees were burning. People were screaming and children were crying.

Father caught her up in his arms. “We must run, Little Rabbit.”

“What is going on?” She cried.

“The soldiers have come.” Father said.

She wasn’t entirely sure what he meant, but clung to his neck. “What about Mother?”

Father didn’t answer. That scared her.

“Where is Mama?” She cried.

He ran into the woods. They came to a large, hollow tree.

“Where is brother and Mother?” She asked.

Tears were in his eyes. He hugged her. “You must be brave, Little Rabbit. The soldiers have already… taken them.”

She wanted to scream. But the horrors of it felt too deep.

She cried instead, but he brushed her face.

“Do not cry. We must run.” His head whipped back as shouts and shadowed forms drew close to them. “Hide in the tree, Rabbit. Now.”

“What about you?” She cried.

“Hide.” He shoved her inside the hollow tree. She peered out of a knothole, heart pounding.

Father was standing out in the open! He shouted and hollered, and got the soldiers to chase him.

She tried to stifle the sobs as hard as she could when a large explosion shook the tree, toppling her father.

She didn’t want to look outside.

It felt like hours. Time passed slowly. The screams went silent.

She wondered if she could ever come out of that tree and feel safe. How could she ever feel safe without her father?

She went rigid as she heard steps. They drew closer.
A horse’s chocolate brown nose sniffled at the hole, before sticking its head in. She blinked as she recognized the face of Rising Fire.

“What are you doing here?” She asked as she stood up. The colt snorted and backed away.

Rain was near the tree in a minute. Her ears were flopped to the side and she wondered if she could make out sorrow in her blue eyes.

She seemed to know that her father was dead. Her whole tribe was dead.

She slowly climbed out and saw that the herd was standing around her. Rain rubbed her face on her chest in a motherly way.

She clung to the neck of her father’s favorite mare and sobbed. The pinto stood there, letting her cry.

“You’re the only family I have left.” She sniffled.
Spirit-Who-Could-Not-Be-Tamed stepped in front of her. He sniffed her from head to toe, nickering.
She wondered how hard it would be to climb on his back. To run away with them and live as one of them.
Rain sighed a sweet, grassy breath over her. She looked to Rain’s shorter, wider back.

“Would you mind if I came with you?” She whispered.

“As a favor to my father?”

She slowly approached the mare’s back, rubbing it. Using every ounce of strength she had and clinging onto the mane, she hoisted herself up.

She was sitting on the back of a mustang.

Spirit-Who-Could-Not-Be-Tamed trotted around the mares, nipping at their flanks. Rain cantered to the front, her new filly running alongside her.
She let the wind dry her tears. The horses were taking her.

She wasn’t sure where she was going. But at least she knew that it was far away from this place.
She pulled off her horsehair necklace and hooked it on a tree as they passed by. She muttered a prayer to the Spirits for her father.

She tried to look back at the smoking remains of her home, but they had picked up too much speed. She was never going to see her family again.

At least she had the mustangs.


About the author
Allie Lynn is an equine fiction writer who desires to glorify her Savior and spread His good news with her writing. When she isn't writing about daredevil girls on horseback or warriors fighting the powers of darkness, she's reading or running around her Midwest USA farm. You can find more of her work at Equineonthemind.com.