(Bradford Ohio, USA)
The sky was clouded, an incoming storm. Yellow lightning lit up the frightening black clouds, pushing and swirling, brewing up chaos. Thunder rumbled like a viscous beast, hungry for fear.
A band of wild horses anxiously looked around at their surroundings, nostrils flaring, ears rotating in every direction. They stomped their hooves, tossed their heads, and flicked their tails.
A mare even reared because of sensing danger. She neighed and screamed, stamping her hooves. The black clouds chased the horses as they bolted down hills, across a flooding creek, and around rocking mountains. The rain finally came. It came down in sheets.
Pure white, almost impossible to see. Horses neighed and reared, and circled and kicked. The foals were tossed around trying to find their moms, mares froze in fright, the stallion dashed and kicked.
A crack of lightning split the sky, right in the middle of the Wyoming band of horses. They bolted each way, mares losing foals, foals losing mares, the stallion losing all. The poor stallion bolted to what he thought was his band. But he was only chasing thunder.
The stallion ran for as long as he could before he collapsed, lying in the cold rain soaking wet. He was bound to get sick. He neighed and whinnied for help, but no one replied. After a few more minutes, two bright lights and the sound of an old engine cluttering appeared. The stallion tried his best to get up, but it was no use. Then two slamming noises came from the lights, and a voice was heard.
"Hey Carter, I've found one. He looks wounded or somethin' like that."
"Great. Get it into the trailer, and we can head back to the 'house." They were definitely men. And they were up to no good.