The next morning drags on though deserts with harsh heat and little water for Saber and I while the pale faces drink their fill then let their horses drink. If it weren't for Scott, one of the brown quarter horses, we would have died of thirst. Scott brings us the water bottles from the pale faces when they sleep. For weeks this goes on, pointless trekking though desert without a blade of grass to be seen, a sweet breeze to be felt on your hot pelt. My buckskin yellow makes the sun take less of a fancy to me, but Saber and the other horses are dripping with sweat the whole time the sun is in the sky. My heart begins to get heavier with each step away from my herd. I hang my head and on one day when a storm runs through I stumble through the wet surface, my misery rubbing off on everyone. Saber is the same way, he understands that fighting right now will get us no where. We must save our strength.
                          
Finally after I loose track of the days the pale faces lighten up as we round a corner and my heart drops. A wooden mountain with spikes on the edges and great towers on four sides is revealed to us. My face hardens, this is where I will fight. I can feel it in my bones. Saber is having the opposite reaction as well as the other horses. They all hang their heads and troop forward. We are nearing the wooden mountain. Without warning I slam backward knocking Scott off his hooves. The pale faces that swarm out of the wooden mountain are different from my capturers. They are all wearing the same pelts and walk with stiffness as they throw more ropes over my neck. I lean backward as I drag ten fancy pale faces away from their nest. They rally and shift their weight in unison from side to side making me loose my hold on the ground and stumble forward. Saber is putting up an equally spirited fight beside me but he only has eight fancy pale faces. The wooden doors slam behind me and I know they will not open for anything, on the other side is my escorts. I never see them again. 
                          
I turn and let out a roar charging forward taking my fancy pale faces with me. That's when I see them, row upon row of perfectly matched brown horses. Their hooves all falling at the same time, lifting in the same arch. My soft brown eyes are hard with hatred to the fancy pale faces for doing this to them, I watch them horror struck for three whole seconds. Why are they doing the fancy pale face's bitting? Don't they know what they are? I think, astounded by the robotness of my fellow horses. This cannot happen to Saber. I know with all my heart I will never give in to being treated like that. 
                          
Then I turn and canter back toward the doors bucking and kicking.  When a sound so loud that it strikes terror into my heart. The gun shot echoes over the desert and there he is. Sitting on a massive yet steadily built horse. His face fur is sleek and groomed, his whole appearance is perfected. He made a noise in a slow deep voice that instantly makes my heart pound in dislike. I narrow my eyes at him as he brings a whip under my chin to lift my head. I think you're not going to have it easy with me if that's what you think snake!  From his thin pointed nose, to snake like thick jaw he reminds me of the snakes back home. I bit his whip and it falls to the dust floor. Symbolizing that his usual control will not work with me.
                          
I decide to call the well groomed leader the Queen Bee. The fancy pale faces Worker Bees, eager to make their Queen happy. This Queen Bee points at a corner of the wooden prison. There lies a small sun, not nearly as bright as the ones I have seen at night. But much larger than the other pale face's. With shinny grey cylindrical objects being warmed in the little sun's belly. Alita once told me about a forest fire that burned our whole territory, forcing the herd to take shelter in the mountains. The flickering lights or orange and yellow remind me of her story. That must be fire. I conclude. 
                          
The Worker Bees are pulling me again as I dig all my hooves in the ground leaving long trails, I can't see Saber and I call out for him,"Saber! Are you okay?" 
"Yes are you?" He replied from out of sight but I get to see him finish his sentence and find; he is lying. A fat pale face with a musky appearance. Fat as a pregnant mare, dirty skin and ugly mashed features. Dull almost hazel brown eyes, that squint at Saber.  This ugly pale face is holding something so hot it, glows red. And he is approaching Saber! 
"NO!" I roar and knock off all but two of my guards. As I charge more guards come and more ropes, but I fight like its me having a white hot U.S. stamped on my flesh. Saber lets out a cry of pain and I switch into mountain lion mode, I rear up and kick at the Worker Bees. My dark hooves flashing as I feel impact against a cheek bone, another thrash brings me a splash of crimson. I switch my momentum and kick a Worker Bee behind me with full force. A solid chest kick. He is out cold, the other Worker Bees back away. But a shout brings them on a new assault. Only three of them advance, the others retreat. 
                          
They are foolishly running in a line. I attack the left side first. Charging with renewed energy I head butt him. My head is as big has his along with his upper torso. He falls flat to the ground. Not dead, but not getting up anytime soon. I turn to his companions and find the middle one has flung himself at me. Latching onto my neck like a leech I reach around and bite at his side with vicious jabs. He reflexively protects his side, falling off as his grip is loosened. I rear up and come crashing down on his legs. A place on a horse, where if injured they will not recover. I feel bones splinter and launch off of him to the last revolting Worker Bee. This one is rightly terrified. Lifting up his hands and reaching for a shiny object on his hip. Before he can draw his assistance he is flying through the air from my kick. Landing in a pile of horse droppings.  
                          
I run up to Saber hoping that I can remain unchallenged long enough to get him away from another thing like the red hot metal brand. Which has stamped his flesh, leaving it hairless and inflamed.
"Can I help?" I ask my mane no longer parted but all over, my forelock wild. 
"Look out!" He warns but it's too late. More Worker Bees have me on ropes. All a safe distance away from my battling limbs.  Another group has Saber and they're dragging a out of the wooden holder and putting me in it instead. The brutal pale face that maimed Saber is baring its yellow teeth at me and making smug noises to its fellows who chuckle.
                          
First, I am bound by my head alone as he takes cutting things and chops my mane to match the other horses. As in to say no mane at all. I narrow my eyes and wait for him to put his hand between me and the wooden post he is closest to. When he does I shift all my weight and crush his hand. I give a light mocking neigh like,"I wouldn't do that if I were you." He lets out a shout of pain and rage as he tries to tug his hand free. 
                          
The other Worker Bees run to his assistance and pull me off of him. Then restrain my midsection so I can't shift my weight again and I let out a oof as they tighten it. I do not like this. It restrains my movement even more since my head is locked in place by ropes. The brander picks up my rear left hoof and is doing something that feels like a bird picking at my hoof. As he is placing a heavy shiny metal thing on me, I see it as one if the Worker Bees gives it to the brander. He is pounding my hoof and I make my,"I wouldn't do that." Noise and raise my free upper left hoof and kick him hard on the broad back side. He falls to the ground a perfect hoof make right on the bulls eye on his bottom. His face even more filthy after his face plant. Now the Worker Bred tie all of my hooves to the posts and my face down so I don't bite him. "First smart thing you've done Worker Bees." I whinny muffled through the cloth over my muzzle.
                          
I let the brander clean all my hooves until he reaches the front right hoof. My anger building after every hoof. Just as he is finishing the last hammering I jerk my free hoof out of his grip and kick him straight in the face. He falls back with a cry of pain and a black eye. Blood flowing from his nose, slightly concaved in the center. I hope I broke it. Might improve his fortunes with the Worker Bee mares. 
"You shouldn't do that." I smirk.
                          
He is at the fire area where he got the brander for Saber! I see him roll up his sleeves to his callused elbows. With a heave he yanks the brander free, it looks hotter than last time. The brander turns and is chuckling and I can feel the heat from the white hot stamp and struggle to free my head. He is overing over my right shoulder, the heat sending me into over drive. I pull with all my might and jerk my head free. I look down on his horror struck face and head butt him. He falls to the ground unconscious. Nose definitely broken now.
                          
The walls of the wooden prison have wooden cages with more identical brown horses in them. They are all gazing at me. Either confused by my behavior, or admiring it. I lift my head high, my mane now short, especially behind my ears. I feel naked without my forelock across my face. 
                          
The brute horse with his Queen Bee rider comes up and looks at my handlers. And says though I don't understand him,
"Send that animal to the arena. It's time we break that horse."