Creative writing piece

In creative writing were working on making short stories longer. I would like to get some feedback on the piece, but first I would like to share some pictures of Fiero, the wild horse who inspired the color of, River, one of the characters.

Fiero

Fiero

The horses pawed at the grassless land before becoming discouraged and leaving. The mares looked around wearily, they felt like they were being watched, but the only horse around was a stocky bay stallion who was far away. Suddenly, the bay stallion challenged the old, wise stallion to a fight, causing one of the old stallion’s legs to give out. The young stallion tossed his head in defiance as the veteran stallion called to his mares. They called back in shrill plaintive cries.

The young stallion used the herding technique called snaking. His head was head was down his ears were back, and the mares were powerless to resist him. All three of them: two blue roans and a palomino. They looked back and the palomino called to him one last time, but it was cut short as the young stallion’s ears went back.

The old stallion watched with weary eyes, keeping weight of his injured leg. He briefly contemplated following his mares, but he knew where they were going. It was the place where the wind had brushed away the snow to reveal grass. He licked his throbbing leg and called to his mares to let them know he would win them back in spring. They all looked back as if to say they’d be waiting. He followed his mares for weeks into the heart of winter.

As the winter progressed the old stallion’s leg did not improve, and his body condition declined. However, he continued to follow the young stallion and his mares. He was twenty-one. Old for a wild horse, and unsure if he would make it through the winter. The younger stallion was sure of his position and watched as the older stallion died. He should have just hung on. In a few weeks it was spring.

The mares were distant with the younger stallion, sad that their old, wise stallion had died. But one of them was pregnant and in early spring she gave birth to a the colt that was the spitting image of the old stallion. The colts body was the charcoal gray color known as gullo, he had a thick white blaze, and two white socks. The mares sighed collectively, the stallion they had known for so long was gone, but they would take care of his legacy and preserve his memory.

Laurel, the colt’s blue roan mom, named him River. He grew up around the love of his mother and aunts. His dark bay adoptive father was distant. He taught his son the were and how to keep mares, but it was clear the young stallion did not like the antics of a young horse. It was clear the mares didn’t like the bay and that taught River that he should be gentler than his adoptive father. As the mares became pregnant with the young stallion’s foals River tried to be a good sibling to them, but as he reached two years of age he was kicked out of his band.

River continued to stay close to his old family even as he made a new family. They were a band made up of other young males like him. A bachelor band. All of them trying to obtain their own mares even as they enjoyed each other’s company. All of them a wide range of colors. From bay, to dun, to grullo, like River.

River was an unusual stallion. He didn’t try hard to fight for a mare. Although he pushed his weight back if a more experience stallion pushed him around he was a gentle stallion. He played like all young stallions, but he seemed to know if he was playing to rough with a younger stallion.

The mares watched this and it wasn’t surprising when he won a mare, when he was five, out of compassion. She was young, and her first foal had been sickly. Rather than go with the rest of the band she stayed by her foal. As well as being young she was light palomino, a rare color in a wild horse herd. She would need to find her band soon, but she couldn’t let her foal die alone. It was at that time River approached her.

He told her his name and she sadly told him her name was Birch. River noticed the foal in the grass and waited quietly as the sick foal died. Birch, although sad, enjoyed his company. She had seen his gentle play earlier that day and decided she would rather be with him than the family that had left her.

As River’s band grew and changed over the years the one thing that remand constant was Birch. Even as they grew old they stayed together. Other stallions may steal his other mares they never dared to steal Birch. If they did, they could never keep her for long. She would always find away to go back to River.

So River and Birch grew old together. They had many foals together. They were content. What made it better was their palomino daughter and their grullo son. The cycle of generations was complete. The legacy that River’s mother had perserved were now being carried on. The old stallion had not died in vain. River and Birch’s offspring would make sure the veteran stallion’s legacy was carried on.

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