At the End of the Hoofprints
Here is a short story I wrote. I hope you guys like it!
I followed the hoof print ,making sure to stay downwind. Once I hear a whinny in the distance I know I'm close , quite close. I mount my horse and quietly go towards the sound. I stopped on a hill overlooking the herd of mustangs. Excitement rushed through me as I watched the herd peacefully grazing below.
After a few minutes, I see a bay horse nervously approaching the herd. As it get closer I can tell it's a stallion. "This must be his herd," I think. Then one one of the mares lets out an alarmed squeal when she catches sight of the stallion. The cry is answered by another horse out of sight.
I hear pounding hooves coming from behind a hill and another stallion appears, this one white colored. Seeing the white stallion come like that, the realization dawns on me, the bay is trying to steal mares from the white stallion. The resident stallion gallop towards the herd. He was breathtakingly beautiful.
As he ran, his mane flowed in the wind and his tail streamed out behind. His neck stretched forwards, ears slicked bar and nostrils flaring as he ran to save his herd. His legs a blur, quickly covering the ground between him and the intruder. Suddenly he came to a swift stop near the bay and reared up, warning the bay off. The bay stood his ground in challenge to the white. The white let out a scream of fury and charged the offending stallion. The bay shied away. Again the white charged and this time the bay met his attack. The fight had begun. It was hard to tell who was winning amidst the flying hooves , teeth, and squeals. I could only hold my breath and watch. After what seemed like ages, the white horse struck a blow to the bay that sent him to his knees. The white added a kick to the downed bay. The bay recovered his senses, and got up. He shied away from a bite from the white, turned, and retreated. The white stallion reared triumphantly.
I turned my horse back down the trail I came from, marveling at what I'd just had the privilege of seeing. I knew I would not soon forget it.