AN: Okay guys, first fanfic here I come! I really hope you guys like it, for some reason I'm in a horsie mood, so this one will be a original version of Flicka! Think of it as Flicka 3... or 4. I think there's a third one now, but I'm unsure.
'The stories we here of how the west was one were all lies. The history of the west was written by the horse. Wherever a settler left his foot print there was a hoof print right beside it. Man came further and further west to stake their claims on the great American wilderness, but they encountered a strength that could not be tamed: wild horses. The settlers called them parasites that could strip the land and starve their own herd. They couldn't domesticate them so they destroyed them. Isolated and hungry they were on their way to disappearing from the face of the earth. Sometimes when the lie disappears an after image remains, just for a moment mustangs are an after image. No better than ghosts, hardly there at all. No one really wants them not ranchers, not city people. That's their destiny; let them disappear once and for all with all the other misfits, loners and relics of the wilderness no one cares about anymore. Lucky for us a few mustangs survived, hidden away in the mountains. We need to protect them for them, for they are the hope for some kind of living memory of what the promise of America used to be, and could be again.
I believer there is a force in this world that lives beneath the surface; something primitive and wild that awakens when we need an extra push just to survive, like wildflowers that bloom after a wildfire burns the forest black. Most people are afraid of it and keep it buried deep inside them, but there will always be a few people who have the courage to love what is untamed inside of us. '
Kaia closed the essay book, looking up at her father with a confused look on her face. "What does this have to do with me?" she asked, holding out the book for him to take.
Clint eyed her, his annoyance showing in his eyes. He took it, holding it gently, as if it was going to fall into dust at any second. "This was your grandmother Katy's." he said, going over and setting it on her dresser. "She was my mother, and she showed me that determination, and love were two of the three things that make up life."
Kaia leaned back on her pillow, staring up at the ceiling. The walls around her were covered with horse posters, and her shelves covered with horse books. On her dresser, along with the newly placed essay, were rows upon rows of horse competition trophies. Ribbons hung along the edge of the mirror above it, lining it in a ring of blue, red, green, and yellow. "What's the third?" she asked, though she knew the answer.
Her father didn't move, his eyes trailing along Kaia's show of her skill with her previous horse, Buckshot. "Kaia." he said "You can't just not ride anymore. I know Buckshot was special to you, and that accident was bad, but there's nothing you can do about it. I know your scared of losing something else. You don't think I don't think of that every time I get on a horse? I'm scared of leaving you alone in the world. Your mothers gone, and there's nothing we can do about it. But you can do what would make her proud, and get back up on a horse! Buckshot would want you to."
Kaia sat back up, tears in here eyes. "Buckshot is dead, Daddy! And it's all my fault. If I hadn't taken him so far that day, we would've gotten back before that storm! Then Buckshot would be alive, and I'd be riding in the Championships next month. Just like last year, and the three other years before it."
Clint turned around, fixing Kaia with a stare. "Sweetie." he said "That storm coming round was not your fault. There was no warning, nothing. The skies were clear that morning, and there was nothing on the news about a storm. You had no control over the mudslide, or the fact you couldn't get away. No control Kaia, None. Now, tomorrow morning, you are coming down to the barn, and you are going to start caring for that foal that your grandmother gave you. Got it?"
Kaia blinked, her grey eyes falling onto the photo on her bedside table, of her grandmother Katy, her cousin Carrie, and a black horse thats name hadn't escaped a single ear across the state of Wyoming. Flicka. "Daddy?" she said "What ever happened Flicka's foal? The one that Carrie found with her when she brought her back from the wild?"
Clint smiled "You'll find out in the morning. Let's just say that colt knew your new horse pretty well. Good Night, Kaia."
"Good Night Daddy." Kaia said, laying back on her bed again, pulling her blanket up close to her. She watched her father turn out the light, and shut the door with a small click, plunging her into darkness.