Spitfire: An Arabian Colt Part 1
I looked up lazily. My mom was still in sight, so I could keep grazing quietly. I looked back down and grabbed a mouthful of clover.
Suddenly I heard the alpha horse neighing. I raised my head quickly. He was saying:
"Danger! Danger! Run, everyone run!"
I ran with the herd, not knowing why we were running, but too scared to look back. I heard a wild roar and figured out while we were running. The old bear that lived near by in the forest must have woken up. I ran and ran until, Satura, the head horse, said we could stop.
"What was it?" My mom, Redneck, asked.
"The bear from the forest had awaked." Satura answered. "We were lucky to escape unhurt. And Spitfire, obviously all those training sessions to run, must have paid off."
"Yes," I said, "Now I appreciate them."
Everyone else in the herd had drifted off a little ways by now and was talking among themselves. They had already thanked Satura for his help. They all called him Satura, as they should. But I called him something else. I called him Dad.