Post by horsecraziest on Feb 21, 2008 15:51:52 GMT -5
On a cool spring morning in the valley of the Homeland, one mare was traveling away from the herd. Her chestnut coats shined dimly in the light. Her name was Mist. She was one of the oldest mares in the Cimarron herd. She was wise to what nature would give and take. She was walking around in the sunrise. She loved to take a short walk away from the her. She could take care of herself. As she headed back toward the herd she saw Rain several yards away from the herd. Rain was laying down. She looked like she had broken into a nervous sweat. Mist cantered lightly over to Rain. "It's time," was all Mist said. This was the day that Rain would give birth to the new son or daughter of Spirit's. If it were to be a colt, he would be the next in line to lead the Cimarron herd some day.