Taking The Leap

                                    

                                          
Flame’s muscles bunched as he backed up slowly to the far side of the corral. He raised his head and sniffed the wind – it was a familiar smell, the whiff of the hounds. Flame’s ears twitched, alert for the slightest rustle of a bush or snap of a twig. Finally, he got the nerve to do it. "Go on, little red," whispered the Percheron. "Go on, little horse, up and over." Flame backed up until his rump was up against the hard, uncomfortable wood of the fence. This was it – it was now or never. Flame reared up on his hind legs and burst forwards in a flash of red.
                          
 Galloping towards the fence, Flame’s thoughts raced in terror. What if his feet caught on the fence? What if he slammed on the brakes and crashed into it? What if he slipped on landing? Flame shuddered. Suddenly, the fence rose menacingly in front of him. Flame squealed. He was going too fast to chicken out now. Knowing it was his only choice, he put on a fresh burst of speed. When he reached the fence, he stretched out his neck, sat back on his haunches, then propelled himself up, up and over . . .
                          
 With all his might, the chestnut stallion leapt for his freedom. His back legs starched out behind him – they had done their work. He felt the wind in his red mane, and heard a soft clunk as his back hoof hit the fence gently. But he was then over, with not so much as a stumble on landing. The Percheron nodded. "You best be a-runnin’ now, chap!" he snorted. "Run, little red, run!" Flame nodded and then, with great precision, lowered his head to show his thanks. This was the rare for the arrogant stallion, but he was filled with gratitude towards the white Percheron.
                          
 "Aye, ye may not be so pride-filled after all!" the white horse said happily, knowing he had done the stallion a favour by making him finally show his thanks. Suddenly, a howling sound filled the air. Flame shuddered. "That be the hound dogs a-bayin’," warned the friendly giant. "Run, little red, run!" Flame reared up, his wild spirit taking over. He would face the hounds, and he would find his mares. Nothing short of that.