Heart and Soul (rewrite)

Chapter Sixteen

I walked for miles, dejected, the short lived hatred for mankind now a sick lump in my stomach. Sure, they had killed my babies, and possibly Paloma, but something, a gentle tug of a long forgotten memory, told me that not all of them were bad.

The blood on my muzzle had dried into a crust, and flies swarmed it, forcing me to constantly shake my head. The first day I rested in the afternoon, sheltering from the heat beneath whatever scraggly trees I could find. The relentless sun hurt my eyes and turned my coat into flames. My tongue felt fat in my mouth, my saliva thick and gummy. A pounding headache wreaked havoc in my head. After the second day, I zoned out. I still walked, still put one, sore, aching hoof in front of the other, but my eyes were half closed, my ears flopped to the sides as if discarded. Night was a welcome respite from the searing heat of day. After the third day all I wanted to do was lay down and die. But I didn't, I couldn't. Vultures circled overhead, and I told myself I had to stay alive because of them, because their constant cries were like a hot rod through my already burning head, because I couldn't stand the thought of them feasting on my flesh. But truly, deep down, I knew I was staying alive because of a memory. A faint image of red hair, a white ball, but it always stayed just out of reach.

By the morning of the fourth day I could go no farther. I collapsed, losing consciousness as black spots danced around my eyes, my tongue dry and cracked, my saliva practically nonexistent, my coat unbearably hot, the stone in my hoof a lance of pain at every step. This was how it would go down, this was how I was going to die.

Hours after I had closed my eyes a bark pierced the fog of exhaustion that overcame me. My  eyes opened. A vulture sat nearby, every so often making an annoyed, harsh sound. The bark sounded again, and a memory flooded back, of a warm summer night, of galloping desperately through fields, someone clinging to my back.

Coyotes.

Adrenaline rushed through my veins, goading me to my feet. I could barely make out a sort of collie, running towards me. Behind it, a figure on horseback. I stood, swaying with weakness, my vision swimming, as they approached.

The dog stopped a few yards away, and sat down, watching me, giving me the feeling of a sheep about to be slaughtered, As the figure drew closer and closer they slowed, spotting me. Exhausted and nearly dead, I staggered towards them, a dry, low, quiet nicker sliding past my lips. The rider dismounted, leaving his horse with a simple command, and came to me. He lifted up my sagging head and taking of one the lead ropes, lead me with great difficulty back to his horse, and mounted.

Our painstaking walk to the barn took hours, but when we arrived I was settled into a deeply bedded, dark stall. I was delirious, my head throbbed, and I collapsed into the shavings, closing my eyes against the world.

When the vet arrived I was pushed to my feet, and an IV was inserted in my neck. Gradually, the swelling in my mouth went down, and the headache subsided. By the end of the second day I was back to myself, eating hay with gusto.

"Hey!" I horse across the aisle called, sending me furtive glances.

"What?" I replied, staring at him from behind the bars in my stall.

A mare next to him laughed, and met my eyes. Hers were deep and dark, as if you could fall in and never come back out. "He wants to know your name. He's just shy. He never knew his Ma, so he's a bit awkward."

"I never had a mother either!" I whinnied, glad that at least one horse knew what my childhood was like. Blue's quiet face appeared in my memory and I closed my eyes for a moment, realizing that, although Blue had a mother, he still connected deeply with me. I missed him. A deeper, raspier voice beside me spoke up.

"Shy? The kid can't stop talkin' most a the time!"

The mare across the aisle pinned her ears in a joking way. "Because he knows us, heck, he was born here! This pretty little thing is a new horse, and he doesn't know her!"

"I can talk." The gelding pouted, his ears falling to the sides. He had a thin stripe down his face and a forelock that frizzed around his little ears. The mare beside him was a light bay with a star, and I couldn't see the horse next to me.

"We know, dear, you do that a lot." The bay mare soothed, her voice sweet and kind. She was a maternal figure, the kind you never want to leave.

"Too much." The invisible horse beside me complained. Suddenly, he thrust his head over his door. His ears only came up to my chest! Was he even a horse? He was dark bay, with a star that had exploded across his forehead, giving a hint to his age.

"How old are you?" I asked, craning my head to better see him. He met my eyes.

"Ten." He replied, deadpan. My ears went back in confusion and embarrassment. "Plus thirty two."

"What?"

"He's forty two, sweetie. I'm Menuca, by the way. Next to me is Cupid, the geezer is Tootsie Roll."

"I'm no geezer. I could beat the socks off a ya at anything. Try me." His face was angled towards the mare, his tiny ears back, his parrot mouth only too evident. Suddenly he fell into laughter, then a coughing fit.

"Easy, T." Menuca nickered, concern washing over her friendly face. Once he could breathe again she turned to me.

"What's your name?"

I hesitated. I forgot. "I- I can't remember."

"Well, you had a tough few days. How about you tell us when it comes back to you?"

I nodded. "Where am I?"

"A sale barn." Tootsie replied, vanishing back into his stall. "Don't get comfortable, you'll be gone within the year."

I looked at Menuca, fear rising in my throat. "It is a sale barn, but every one here wants you to be the best. Why don't you rest up, and we can talk some more tomorrow? You were in bad shape when you came."

Obediently, I laid down, nestled deep in the bedding, but uncertainty robbed me of sleep. Who would buy me? Would it be the track all over again?