Free At Heart

The grey stallion's head hung gracefully over the stable door, as he listened to hooves clopping, trainers chatting and bits jingling - the usual chorus of the stud. His light grey coat shone and his head was poised, though relaxed, but the stallion did not have his uual spark. There was no fire in his eyes, no prick to his ears, no song in his heart. He silky tail, so dark it was almost black was held low. It wasn't high like a banner, the typical arabian stallions way of tail carriage.

A woman, probably the one the others called Diane, walked down the path, a halter and rope in her hands. The stallion anxiouly shuffled around in his stall and backed into the darkness. Diane unbolted the stable door and walked in, all the while speaking to the horse in a soothing tone. But this didn't fool the stallion. He raised his head and snorted in protest, but Diane was experienced. She moved her hand over his head and neck then slipped on the halter. The stallion nervously followed Diane out of the stall. He came to a halt, despite Diane's protests and tugs, then sniffed the air. He felt the summer breeze and heard the birdsong. Then the stallion realised. He was free. Or as close to free as he could get.

The stallion followed Diane more certainly now, he had spirit back. But he was about to be put in the paddock - there was more room there but it wasn't where he wanted to be. It wasn't home. He pulled against the lead, rolling his eyes in fear and restraint, then started a series of half rears. When he reared, Diane could tell the horse was meant to be free. He was so magnificent; his muscles tight, his mane flying in the wind and yet his head still managed to keep its refined elegance. He was wild and free.

Snapping out of her trance, Diane hastily managed to get the stallion, now gleaming ith sweat, into the paddock. She anclipped is lead, then left with a quick promise to be back after she fed all the horses. The stallion didn't have much time to put his plan to action. He didn't know how, but he wasn't going to get out of there. He was going home. The horse gallopped a few laps of the otherwise bare paddock,getting back his wild aura and sense of mind. He could do this. He slowed to a graceful canterand listened to nature. Suddenly, without even realising it, he new what to do. He turned towards the nearby mountains and cantered towards them. When the fence neared him, the stallion didn't stop. He flew over the fence and let out joyous neigh. A reply sounded from in the distance. The stallion pricked his ears. The herd was there. His herd, waiting for him. The great stallion put all thoughts of his few days of captivity behind him and galloped towards his herd, as spirited and wild a can be.
He was home.
He was free. source

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