Author: Slytherinchickk PM
"Her thoughts would always drift back to Flicka, wherever she would be. She would see her again one day, but for now. This would be Goodbye."Rated: Fiction T - English - Words: 979 - Reviews: 2 - Favs: 4 - Follows: 1 - Published: 10-31-10 - Status: Complete - id: 6442152
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: Just a random story idea that popped into my head. Enjoy!(:
Warning: some cursing and slight adult situations.
Reviews would be lovelyy(:
Disclaimer: I do not own anything that may relate to the movie, and or the books.
Katy watched from atop a horse's back, not Flicka, in the distance, a herd of wild horses graced the land. They kicked up a lot of dust. There were many. More than she'd ever seen in one herd alone. They normally hid from civilization. Choosing to live in peace rather than get sucked into all the troubles of our world. Katy couldn't blame them. If she could, she'd run. Far away, from her parents, her brother, school, everything! The politics, rules, and laws of the human race are far to complicated. I highly doubt the government even knows what's going on. Yet these horses, in a world to call their very own, live in peace. They speak to one another, in their own designated language. They have a pecking order, which is to say their form of government. Each herd is led by one horse. They fight it out. Each horse has a shot. They don't place tacky ads, or hire people to call every five minutes to vote for you. They have a real free country.
There aren't many wild horses now. Most were shot and killed over the centuries and the ones that are left hide well. One of the mustangs, a cream color, limped into the clearing of land behind a tall, gallant, grey. Katy felt sympathy towards the small mare, but knew if she even offered her hand to help, the horses would scatter. Change isn't good, sometimes. In this case, of the wild horses, it would ruin them. She highly doubted they've ever been in human contact, so if she did, it would set them off. They'd run. And may or may not make it back together, again, as a herd.
She watched, longingly, as they ran across the fields, stretching their legs. They tossed their heads around and ran at each other, playfully. She tried to decipher who was lead. The grey, seemed to be leading the herd at one point. Then another horse, this one a tobiano Paint, would chase the grey. But the grey would turn on him too.
The mares, scolded their young, and grazed the tall grass that covered the plain. The fillies bit and kicked playfully at each other. And tried to get in on their elders fights, earning them another scolding from them and their mothers.
Horses are a work of art. They are, literally, poetry in motion. They grace the presence of the few who care to take a look. But they are not just a pretty picture to be admired. They are living things to be appreciated. In history, war was not fought, nor won without horses. Many more horses lost their lives than men. Horses, or taking care of them in anyway, is not a hobby to be picked up and set down later. It is a way of life. Riding as a hobby, is cruel to the horse you ride. Horses need someone to be there for them when they are down. As they find complacency in being there for their rider when they are down.
You have to be in sync with your horse. Be one with the horse. Feel the muscles in their body flex as they prepare to run. Feel the rhythm of their breathing. Stay steady with the rhythm of the horses gait. Flow with them. Not against them. Live beside the horse. Not on top. People are no match for a horse. Horses tell their own story, and not in a wrap-around sort of way. No explanations, they show. No lead up, straight to the point.
If you really take a look, you can learn a lot from a horse. Not just wild ones either. The tame always have some wild in them. Hence the term "bomb-proof." There is no bomb proof horse. Any horse can be spooked. They will rear or buck, or simply run off. That is the wild that was passed down, through many generations, to them. Knowing a horses name, and riding it once or twice, is not knowing a horse. To know them, you spend time with them. You learn their vices, and work to help them out of them. You learn their habits.
Flicka, as wild as she still is, is someone's horse. She will not just leave Katy if she lets her go off on her own. She will come back. Because where Katy is, home is, to Flicka. It's how most horses are. But being she is telling her to leave, that rule may not apply. Once you gain their trust, they will always consider where you are home. A horse's trust is a gift to be honored by, not just something you take notice of every once in a while.
Horses have fears, just as people do. To Katy, right now, looking out into the fields of tall grass and watching the wild horses roam, her fear is that that will be taken away from them. Though people don't normally hunt horses these days, there are still some sick people out there that are willing to do it.
She'd grown up with horses her entire life. Never once had she been this sad to see one go. Flicka had been her best friend her entire summer break. Though that wasn't long, it had felt like forever. Now, she'd be going back to the Academy. Her thoughts would always drift back to Flicka, wherever she would be. She would see her again one day, but for now. This would be Goodbye.