Untamable

Chapter Six Sometimes a Horse Has Gotta Do What A Horse Has Gotta Do

Shock at Saber's defeat makes my limbs numb. My soft brown eyes are unreadable as his flit away. The Worker Bee jeers and calls to his companions saying though I don't understand,"I beat the wild horse!"

The other horses glare at Saber and I feel protective over him. Once part of my herd always part of my herd. Although as the sun sinks in the sky I catch some of their eyes as they give me admirable glances. I rear up and kick at the post for hours. My throat dry and my stomach growling. The sun finally vanished on the wrong sunset and I rest my head against the post and closing my wide eyes.

My heart gallops through the sky, back to my herd, where I belong. I wonder if they miss me, as much as I miss them. I see Alita, still round with another foal. Thunder watching over the herd from the cliff which I first saw the fire. Heather and Bluestem frolicking among the dignified mares and stallions. Josey sleeping next to Ice. At peace. 

As the sun pokes its fingers over the east wall of the wooden prison. My second day with no food or water. My head is starting to swim and my legs are less steady than usual. Saber is tied up on a horizontal post with two other horses. I nicker at him but he ignores me.
"Oy, Saber I'm not mad at you." I neigh pulling at the rope.
"Well I am so leave me alone." He says rudely starting to turn his butt to me. I can see U.S. stamped to his right shoulder, still hairless. 
"Don't turn your back on me, we need an escape plan." I say to his behind.
"Well we aren't going anywhere. Those gates never open." He mutters and I have to perk my ears to hear him.
"You are still the Saber who came to save me, the same one who raced me as a foal." I whinny stamping my brown socked leg.
"That Saber wouldn't have let those pale faces use him like a donkey." He says as a Worker Bee takes him into the arena and I watch as they train him. He is stubborn but they keep trying snapping that loud rope if he doesn't obey.

First the command TR-OT. A trot that makes him lift his legs unnaturally high in the same way as the uniformed horses. I can't picture him as one now. Followed by a command that makes him canter. His movements are robotic. The Worker Bee astride him has a long pointed nose and short cropped blonde hair. Sunken blue eyes with tiny pupils. 

The time wastes away as I watch Saber break. His sweat now coating his whole body, his breath heavy. My own stomach is howling with rage at its prolonged lack of consumption. My throat is cracking, begging for a drop of water, making my head light and motions weak. I find it harder and harder to focus on Saber's situation. 

The gates open, jerking me from my stupor, my ears perk as Worker Bees drag a dark skinned pale face whom I instantly call Wild Face as he looks much more natural and smells of Sage's herbs and grasses. His face isn't broad like most of the Worker Bee's. Deep brown eyes like a horses' are wide with alarm. 

The Worker Bees throw him at the Queen Bee's feet and the Queen Bee points at a fence post near me. The Worker Bees haul Wild Face to the post and bind his front hooves and hind hooves that he walks on. I notice he doesn't have feet coverings. His clothing is natural, simple light leather tied with ties of the same leather. His scent is stronger as he approaches me and I feel a pang for my homeland.

Wild Face shouts at the Worker Bees and they cuff him around the head. Chuckling as they walk into the shade of their small buildings in which I have noticed they sleep. Made of wood the structures look stern and very un-homely. As soon as the Worker Bees vanish Wild Face becomes a little more relaxed. His dark shoulders slack and his muscles loosen. I watch his dark eyes take in his surroundings until they fall on me. His dark bushy eye brows rise and he cocks his head to the side. 

"Hey girl." He soothes in the first calm pale face voice I have heard. It would be natural to be comforted from this, but I reject this. Simply staring at him, motionless as a deer in the face of a mountain lion. He does something else, he has the nerve to nicker at me.