Post by our side of the mountain on May 12, 2011 13:06:04 GMT -5
"...On the eve of the Great Sorrow, a terrible storm brewed and fire rained down from the sky. We screamed in terror, calling for the men who had never failed to protect us before. But that night, when we needed them the most, they were as silent as the dead. Wild with fear and betrayal, we broke from our wooden boxes and ran into the fields. Foals struggled to keep from being trampled amongst all the panic; those first hours, it was every horse for themselves.
When the sun rose again, our home of water, grass, and sunlight was covered with ash. Some of us suffered from savage burns on our necks, faces, and backs. Another stallion and I investigated the remains of our smoking home, stupid enough to hope we could return to the life we'd always known. But bits of our stable still glowed and radiated with heat. Man - or something more powerful - had turned our sanctuary into something ugly and unrecognizable.
From that devastation, there was only one thing left for us to do. We, stallion and gelding alike, fought for whatever land and mares we could take and keep. Divided by greed, we set on our separate ways to learn how to live in the wild..."
we were not alone...