Chapter #1
It was a cool morning,about sixty degrees out. A small band of mustangs were just waking from a good nights rest,
stretching and getting ready for the day. A mist had fallen over the mountains they nestled their family group into.
It was extremely difficult to see and smell. Everything smelled like water. The lead stallion, Banner, raised his beautifully dished face into
the air and breathed in the sweet smell of wildflowers and fresh mountain air. He tossed his ivory mane and softly bunted his
lead mare, Wren.
Wren pinned her ears and snorted, she had a bad temper, and didn't enjoy being disturbed. By then, the biting horseflies
and mosquitoes had begun to come out, so the big gray mare trudged under a craggy overhang, and began swatting her tail.
The insects refused to cease their biting, it seemed as if they took pleasure in annoying the horses. Wren's attention strayed
from the flies, and to the sound of paws padding across the rocky ground.
Wren's tube-like ears swiveled towards the noise. Her nostrils flared, cougar. Her brain snapped to attention, her muscles
tensed, ready to make the decision between fight or flight. The predators came into her view, it wasn't a cougar, it was two!
They were probably a mother teaching her cub to hunt. The larger of the two searched the herd of the mares and foals, trying to pick which
one would be the best target. Wren bugled through her nose and bolted.
The rest of the herd jerked their heads up and bolted along with Wren. The mother cougar followed, her cub not far behind.
The cougar mother pounced. She landed right on top of Wren's back, the mare squealed and began bucking as hard as she could,
but the animal had dug it's claws into her neck.
Wren reared, pawing the air violently, and flipped onto her back. She regained her breath and rolled onto her side to get up.
When she rose, she saw what had happened to the mother cougar, it's limbs were badly mangled and it's mouth oozed blood.
The cub hissed and began circling the mare and it's mother, Wren, infuriated, charged the already-frightened cub. It shrank back
and then ran back into the mountains. It took a few moments for the gray mare to realize her own wounds. A gash ran from
the side of her neck to the middle of her back, and a few scratches were placed on her right flank. She silently watched the blood
ooze from her cuts. She looked around her, her panicked herd must have run away without her.
She solemnly walked away from the dead big cat, her anger hurt worse than the wounds inflicted on her. How could they leave
her? How dare they? She tossed her head and whinnied, hoping for an answer. The answer she wanted hadn't come, and the only noise
she could hear was the shrill, ringing whinny that came from her own throat.
She lifted her velvety, black nose to the sky and inhaled deeply. The flies soon began attacking her wounds, lapping up the drying blood eagerly.
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