Work Text:
I am tired.
It has been dozens of seasons since I had escaped with Little Creek on my back, the only human that ever could, or would, do so. Dozens of seasons since Rain had chosen to Run with me, with the Cimmarron Herd.
I have loved her dearly for all the years we've had together.
Even now, when my mares have gone off and followed other stallions, now that I am too old and tired to keep up and fight rivals, now that it has been many seasons since our foals had grandfoals, and those foals had great grandfoals, she remains.
Rain gives him an anxious look, whinnying softly. Spirit picks his head up,smiles warmly at her and nickers. The hairs around his muzzle are grey, his ears droop tiredly. He lips at her shoulder and they groom each other quietly before she bends to offer him some grass.
The winter is coming again and sure as I know my own tail, I know that I won't see the spring. My eagle friend left me long ago, though sometimes I see her offspring on the wind. I wonder what it will be like, sometimes, to see my Mother, my Father, my Brother again.
The days past and Spirit grows slower, and thinner. His head begins to droop and Rain continues to stay with him. A strange stallion approaches her but she bucks and kicks until he gives up.
Her loyalty was always impressive. That stallion won't give up- She'll at least have a herd after I'm gone. My breath hurts in my lungs. I stubbornly move forward, but I cannot do this much longer.
I am tired.
I am so very, very, tired.
Perhaps my sons and daughters will continue to fight as I have. Perhaps they will be tamed, held under strange smelling ropes and straps and saddles. Perhaps they already have. Perhaps they know the strange weight of Iron on their hooves, or a bit between their teeth. Perhaps they know the sting of the whip and the bite of the spurs. I have, and I certainly don't recall it being pleasant. Two-Legs have a lot to learn about my kind.
One morning Spirit does not stand. He bellows defiantly, grunts and snorts and tries to struggle to his hooves, paddles deep ruts in the ground. Rain whimpers softly, lays beside him and tucks her head against his, heartbreak in her eyes. Spirit rolls to his side with a groan, breath heaving. A raven lands nearby and Rain pins her ears threateningly.
I dont have much longer. I know this. Already I am weak. My body will lay here, will return to the earth. I will become the grass and my foals and their descendants will eat the grass. My sweet Rain, I will be with you always.
Rain cries out in anguish as Spirit lifts his head one final time, shudders, and lays still. The ravens gather closer, plucking at his tail, eyeing the dead stallion hungrily. In the distance the younger stallion calls.