Wild Horses

The wind wisped through the coarse mane and tail of the horse as he galloped the open land. One, two, three, four, his hooves gulped down the grassy surface, churning up soil as he went. Bright sunlight reflected off the charcoal colored hair, soaking in the heat of the day. A whinny, sharp and clear came from the distance, making the ears of the running horse perk and the legs slow until they came to a stop. As the sides of the horse heaved, and the nostrils flared, he waited. Blinking slowly and turning his head to watch, he swished his tail and stomped a foot into the hard ground. The pounding came before the picture. One by one horses appeared in the distance, each one its own color, shape and size. The hoof beats were like drums, introducing a melody unlike any other. Heavy breathing, snorting, whinnying, all different from each horse. Their eyes were wide with pleasure and their ears were set back in determination. The black horse stood still and nickered in his sweet low voice, adding to the orchestra of sounds, calling his herd to him. As the herd neared, the lone horse spun back around, trotting slowly before breaking into an easy canter. The herd was about to bound past him, covering ground quickly, when he picked up his pace. He settled in beside a white and gold mare, who nipped him playfully on the neck in greeting as they ran. He squealed with joy, leading his herd through the world. Tails swishing, hooves pounding, nostrils flaring, sides heaving, snorts, whinnies and nickers scattered—

That is the song of the wild horses.