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Once upon a time, in the deepest forest and far away from any human eyes, was a grassland with a horse herd.
Over there, the grass was fresh, the hills numerous and it was sunny most of the time. The forest around them gave enough space and glades with pure water to avoid the warmth of the sky.
It was a legendary herd, on top of any race of horse. They were fast, strong, and tall. But all excellent they were, the herd was known to be very proud.
One day, when new-borns came, there was one with the purest horse dress ever seen. The white of his body was so clear, and his mane so soft, his mom thought he was a cloud. But unfortunately, his back was atrocious. It had a hump on the back, right after the shoulders, and his skin was feeble.
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With time, his comrades left him alone. Not only because of his appearance, but he was also the slowest among the young. By their nature, a weak can’t be in the herd.
More and more, going with the coolness of the night and far away from the heat of the herd, this horse tried, more and more, to endure his torment. Nor his mom stood by him, under the pressure of the elite.
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Like all magic in this world, in the darkness came despair, and with it a menace that even mother nature cannot hold. An intelligent race, on two legs, and with the thirst of power. One night, slimming by the moonlight, came from the west a smell of smoke. Thick and dark, burning the nose, it touched our martyr first. Living in the margins of the group creates some will. In seconds, with hopes, he chose to warn the herd, but this strange enemy didn’t scare the herd.
Moreover, they formed a line, stamping the floor, neighing in front of the danger. Our horse was not in this line. He knew the others could push him away, because of his weakness. So, he observed. Observed, more and more, in the bush. Tension was strong and quiet. The smoke kept moving forward in the field. In the sky, a new light was showing its heat. A fire, strong, tall, and fast.
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In the fumes, went a sound with an explosion. Then, a horse fell. Sudden, abrupt, but fated, the death of one shook the herd. One by one, each horse started to rear.
Carried by their pride, the confidence of their strength made them gallop trough the grassland, toward the danger. After the last horse entered the smoke, an explosion like the first one illuminated the silhouette, followed by many others. Each flash of light showed a new horse, fighting or dying, to defend their place.
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It was one of these times where, even if it was short, seemed like an eternity. The battle was ended as suddenly as its first death. In the middle of the night went dark cloud with downpour. The rain cleared up the fire and the smoke, with them the enemies. Blood of horses mixed up, feeding the dirt.
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They were tired and furious, but for our horse, it was not the end. Once the herd came to rest, he wanted to join them and gain their respect. But all he received was rejection. For the herd, he was the one who called this tragedy. By rage, some chased him away, or tried to kill him. He wanted a home and found nothing but disdain.
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Filled with despair, running without knowing where to go, more and more in the forest his pain changed slowly. His anger blew up, his legs were faster. The pain alimented his body, but something happened. The pain, although strong, went into his shoulders. It was sore, like his flesh was ripping, and bones moving. But he was not as weak as the others claimed him to be, he was way more than that. So, he continued to run.
Through distance, between trees and bushes was the light of the sunrise. Not knowing exactly how, an urge pushed him to run faster, to forget his wretched existence among the herd, to reach the warm of a new life.
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At the end of his run, on the top of a cliff, he continued to gallop. Right in front of him, he reached the peak.
With one jump, he went over the cliff and started to fall.
In the air, his body as much as his heart, all lightened. Right here, after being persecuted, chased, abandoned. He chose to live by himself, to believe in his strength, make his own choice. He was not just a horse of the herd. He was way more than that.
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In the air, during his fall, behind tears and grimace, pain at his shoulders went hard, and suddenly, two wings appeared. Soft, white like him and lighter than a cloud, it carried our horse to the sky.
Then, he flew away to the sunset, untethered.
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