_________________..--""(> The Adventures of: <)""--.._________________ ' ____ ______ ____ _____ ____ _____ _____ ____ ____ ________' |"||"||"||""\\ //""\\ "||\" "||"|""||" "||""|//""\\ //""\\""||""""| || || ))// \\ ||\\ || || || // \\ // \\ || || ||==<<<< >>|| \\ || ||===|| << >><< >>||==] || || \\\\ // || \\|| || || \\ // \\ // || |_||_| _||_ _||_\\__// _||_ _\\|_|__||_ _||__|\\__// \\__//__||__ """" """" """" """" """" """"" """"" """""" """" """" """""" + - - - -- ---=====[) L I B E R A T E D (]=====--- -- - - - + Ironhoof fan club: http://groups.yahoo.com/club/ironhoof/ Character info: http://www.furnation.com/chibiabos/char-ironhoof.html E-mail: ironhoof (AT) wolfhowl.org Spungenote: [remove spaces and translate (AT) to @] Character and stories (C) Copyright 2002, 2003 by Ironhoof's player. Permission to redistribute unmodified granted. If you spot grammatical or other errors, feel free to e-mail me at the above e-mail address with corrections. Additional permission granted to use and redistribute any logfiles containing my character (Ironhoof the mare, NOT Ironhoof the buck as that is another player's character) if you participated in the roleplay. ======================================================================== Ironhoof: Liberated, Episode I: "Rose And Fell" Originally Composed: 8 February 2003 Prose length: 3,356 words - 19,482 bytes Episode Rating: R (Violence, Strong but non-explicit sexual scene) NOTES: This episode will likely get a rewrite in the near future. I am converting to a new style using past tense and greater 'detail' (verbosity). ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The white yearling mustang filly galloped -- hour after hour, day after day. Her hooves churned grass and soil, flung gravel, spawned dustclouds and splashed across streams and rivers. Tireless, relentless ... running from someplace? Running to someplace? To Ironhoof, the truth was both and neither. The Bronze Valley herd was no longer hers and she no longer theirs. Freedom ... that's what being a wild horse is all about, right? Beyond even what Ironhoof understood, at long last a choking, confining chain broke. Like the breaking of any chain bearing a heavy load, the whipping remnants damaged and hurt much. Not one but two dearly beloveds lost to Ironhoof: Firstly Quantus, Bronze Valley's large white lead mare and its greatest strength from the thunder of her hooves and the leadership of her rumbling calls; its greatest weakness in her displaced spirit and her out-of-place being. By the herd's verdict, Ironhoof was at fault for inspiring Quantus to 'liberate herself' from a stallion's rule and her obligations to the herd where, away from the herd and alone, despite her great strength and skill, three cougars took advantage of Quantus' vulnerability, killed and feasted on her. Secondly, Flamehoof, Quantus' son whom Ironhoof had grown very close to and reciprocated that closeness in a bond headed toward love greater than any lead mare's and lead stallion's bond -- a bond of true love and spiritual connection, a connection shattered by the death of his beloved mother. Flamehoof, too, lay blame at Ironhoof and her 'ideas' though before the sting and maelstrom of his spirit that came of his mother's death, he thought Ironhoof sensical and her ideas correct, if not the tradition of the horse. The shards of their shattered bond tore wounds in both their spirits and morphed their love into a growing hatred. Ironhoof's teeth and hooves, though smaller, ripped the colt's identity and those wounds further tore apart his spirit, driving him to his own flight from the physical realm. Their deaths were both numbingly tragic and liberating in their breaking Ironhoof from the lifelong-enslaving fate that, not entirely known to her, befell Quantus and many before her. Cursed to have desires she could not face and distastes Quantus had to ignore, all 'for the good of the herd' -- Quantus' herd, the Bronze Valley Herd. The herd no longer Ironhoof's -- not to own her nor follow her lead. Bronze Valley's herd's fate was their own -- not a good fate, but no longer tied with Ironhoof's fate. Ironhoof's departure was less painful to Ironhoof than it had to her herd that counted on Ironhoof's strength and guidance to lead and protect them, as Quantus' hooves had led them for so long. Through other herds but not to them continued the white filly, her grey mane and tail never resting in their banner-like streaming behind her. Word of Ironhoof spread far wider than she had imagined, but the fear the filly's legend had instilled in other herds did mattered not, for Ironhoof's fate no longer rested in joining a 'normal' herd. Whatever Ironhoof's fate was, it did not lay under a stallion. Her thoughts and ideas were not, wholly, original; Quantus had them but buried deep, torturing her soul and her herd. Relatively young and innocent, Ironhoof had not the time to bury them so deep as she became aware of them ... and as Quantus closely watched the filly's curious discoveries and explorations of her ideas, Quantus began to dust off those same ideas within herself, ideas she had buried in her own fillyhood. Ironhoof's ideas were, at last, free -- and for the heavy price paid in the lives of the two she loved most in Bronze Valley, greater than her love for her own mother, Ironhoof had no doubt she would never put away those thoughts and ideas for anyone. /Never./ 'I am my own horse. I am not owned nor ruled by any being. No being owned or ruled by any other being truly lives. No being ruled by testicles truly lives. I am neither ruled nor shall I rule others. I am my own horse.' By this mantra, the foundation of her thoughts and ideas, Ironhoof trotted a different path than any horse before her -- a path none other had dared to travel before her. Flamehoof's death burned eternally the budding thoughts into Ironhoof's very soul -- they were not merely part of Ironhoof, they /were/ Ironhoof. Forever would they be Ironhoof, no matter what Fate brought to Ironhoof nor whatever Fate would bring Ironhoof to. It was not a destination that launched Ironhoof from Bronze Valley, nor was it with regret that she departed under the herd's decision. Ironhoof's mother was her only lingering link with the herd, but though still a filly, Ironhoof knew after Flamehoof's suicide her journey was set and she was ready. "I love ya', moth'r," the filly recalls her final words before this gallop began. "I sh'll ne'er furget ya'. I want ya' t'know ... I am strong. I will always b'strong. I will always love ya', even if m'fate takes m'far, far 'way." Through plains and forests, through burning sunlight and frigid nights the filly galloped on. Not without rest, of course ... Ironhoof had no delusions of immortality ... but resting, grazing and drinking were done on the go, her hooves stopped only as long as necessary and alone. Quantus' death was brought about by the idea travelling the right path was certain and the fate of one could outshine the fate of all others -- but others had their own fates; the three cougars that preyed on Quantus had theirs. 'I am neither ruled nor shall I rule others.' Ironhoof faced danger from her first days on the earth; at just two days old, she had wandered from her sleeping damsel, chasing a fish as it swam upstream, far out of the sight of her mother. The fish met its fate in the jaws of a wolf, and the filly's fate was nearly met the same way by the same wolf. Quantus' hooves at just the right moment held fate over that wolf's fate, sparing Ironhoof in just the nick of time. The wolf came close ... did he ever come close; the little filly had seen is hungry maw open and licking its chops for her, its cold stare regarding her as nothing more than prey. Her memory of its ferocious look, its intent, its dependency on the death of other beings to live could never escape Ironhoof any more than the mantra that is the core of her spirit. 'I am not owned nor ruled by any being.' To not be ruled, one must stand for onesself ... to not be food, one must prey upon the predator. It was not long, on her own, that the liberated filly found herself again facing wolf ... but unlike her filly encounter, it was not one wolf but a pack. Ironhoof had just found a tree to rest beside when she heard a noise -- the first unexpected snapping of a twig quickly dissipated any thought of slumber. A look in the direction of the snap revealed a pair of golden eyes and the faint black outline of one wolf. Much more capable than she had been at two days old, with more experience using hoof and teeth to fight than mares twice her age, Ironhoof charged at the predator when two more pairs of eyes shone themselves ... and her ears heard three additional sets of paws approach from behind. Six wolves in all! Outnumbered but determined not to becom prey, hoof clashed with claw; fang sank into mane and teeth tore into fur. In the end, six dead wolves and one badly bloodied but very much alive and triumphant filly -- some in Bronze Valley likely hoped justice for Ironhoof would come by her meeting Quantus' fate at the fangs of the first set of predators she'd run across; such hopes, unbeknownst to their bearers, died with those six wolves. Predators might get her some day ... but not that day. The wounds Ironhoof earned from her fight at last forced Ironhoof to give herself extra time to rest and recover. She took care to wash the blood from herself by swimming in a lake and rolling in mud afterward to further subdue the scent of her blood -- she had learned some things from the Bronze Valley herd and among them the skills of a Scout: how to survive on one's own. It was in this muddied state Ironhoof encountered a young mare, just a bit older than herself but having crossed the physical threshold into marehood, laughing at her filthy state. "Hoping to catch some mud-wallowing boar for a mate?" the palomino mustang mare whinnied in laughter at the sight of Ironhoof. "Or maybe a mud-fish?" "Jus' avoidin' bein' mate ta'predators' belly," Ironhoof cheered back in a similarly humorous tone. "Already d'spointed six o'em!" Ironhoof's rough language garnished an even more amused look on the palomino mustang's muzzle. "By the Great Mother, filly, haven't you learned how to talk?" "I think th'wolves h'rd m'loud an' clear," the filly responded. "Hooves 'n t'th's all some need t'derstand." The palomino's humored tone shifted to surprise. "Ya serious? Wolves!? SIX wolves? That must be the Golden Ridge pack ... by Great Mother, you got rid of them!?" The filly nodded in response. "Uh-huh." "I don't believe you! Show me!" The white mustang filly led the palomino back to the tree her rest had been so badly disturbed under the night before. The palomino noticed Ironhof's uneven gait, despire Ironhoof's thickly layered mud hiding the wounds, and guessed the filly suffered injuries. Sure enough, true to Ironhoof's word, six mangled, unbreathing wolf carcasses lay close by one another near the tree. "Great Spirit!" the mare whinneyed in disbelief looking at the carcasses. "You ... you ... you are blessed!" The filly smiled in response, standing matter-of-factly. "'ndeed I 'yam." "We've lost so many to this pack ... this isn't all of them ... but those are their alphas and their betas ... we've never been able to get them like this. You ... you must come with me! My herd is indebted to you!" the young mare declared. At last, the filly's expression turned uncertain. "Wull ... errr ... I not shur ..." Ironhoof idly hoofscraped the ground, giving the mare a regarding gaze. "I really ain't inna market t'join a 'erd," Ironhoof assertively (though not unfriendly) stamped a hoof. The palomino turned her head, giving the filly an odd look. "You mean you're already in a herd? I wasn't aware there were any other..." Ironhoof didn't interrupt verbally, merely shook her head in a negative response. "I 'lone," she whickered. The palomino's gaze went from odd to outright freakish, her eyes wide open in disbelief. "Are you crazy? You're still a filly! You ... you must join a herd! How do you expect to survive alone?" "Oh, I m'find sumthin' sumday ... but, y'see, I ain't yer normal mare. I ... think d'frent." Nudging a wolf carcass with a hoof, Ironhoof continued her explanation. "I don't rely on others t'look after me. I got hooves 'n teeth, I got a brain t'think and m'spirit t'guide m'self. I ain't t'be owned by a herd, not t'be ruled by sum horse thinkin' with 'is testicles, draggin' 'is thoughts like an anchor." The young mare had never heard such a thing, and were she not surrounded by proof of the filly's strength -- the decimation of a wolf pack that had preyed on their herd and even their herd stallion had been able to do next to nothing about -- she might dismiss the mare as filthy, vulgar and completely insane. But there, around her, lay the truth -- this filly had reality to back her wild ideas up. "At least stay with us awhile," she pleaded of the white filly. "I'm Rosehoof, an apprentice healer under our lead mare Shoshone," she introduced herself. "Let me take you to Shoshone ... even if you don't stay with us, we could tend to your wounds." Ironhoof bobbed her head in agreement. "That sounds gud ... frickin' hurts like heck!" "Come on," the palomino invited, turning back toward her own territory. "Our herd owes you a great deal ... you'll be fine. You won't have to stay ... I ... I actually understand," she whickered and shook her head, disbelief in herself that she actually did. "Should probably wash the mud off first so Shoshone can see your injuries ... you can always roll in some later ... I know its a scout tactic. I just rather thought ... something else when I first saw you." Ironhoof laugh-brayed in response. "Yeah, I f'gured y'did." The white mustang trotted toward and into the lake, leaving a stream of mudy murky water in her wake, dunking herself under to clear the mud off. As Ironhoof trotted out of the water, Rosehoof shook her head again in disbelief ... the filly's back and legs were littered with wolfbites and clawmarks, some of them seriously deep. Only the absolute most battle-hardy stallions had she seen so resilient to such injury; most mares -- indeed, most horses would scream in pain, waiting to die. 'Something' within Rosehoof, her belief in Ironhoof, stirred even stronger. She trotted slightly ahead of Ironhoof and lead the way to her herd, taking care not to rush Ironhoof -- whether the white filly thought her injuries serious or not, Rosehoof did consider them serious and would feel guilty if she made them worse. A whinney from atop a hill drew Ironhoof's attention, a small (but mature) bay mustang mare. "That's who we heard the wolves after last night?" the bay called, stamping a hoof. Rosehoof doesn't stop her trot, continued guiding Ironhoof on their course. "She got them, Racer ... she /got/ them! Six of them, including GoldEyes and RedClaw! Get Shoshone to the Healing Cave! We owe this mare big time!" 'Racer' hopped on her forehooves in disbelief. "You're pulling my tail!" the mare on the hill whinneyed. "By the Great Mother ... I'll get Shoshone immediately!" With a fast kick of her hooves, the bay vanished over the hill and the sound of her galloping echoed down into the canyon Rosehoof began leading Ironhoof into. "Cave?" Ironhoof grunted, casting a sidelong glance to Rosehoof. "Don't like caves?" Rosehoof whickered back, veered off the main trail leading through the canyon and headed up an incline toward the rocky canyon wall. "No," Ironhoof whickered back. "Don't feel right bein' closed in on all sides." "Its okay," Rosehoof whickered, pulling ahead slightly as the path narrowed to the point they had to go single-file to keep ahead of Ironhoof, dense trees and brush on either side of the path. "Some horses are like that ... this one is wide and open, it'll help you heal faster and increases Shoshone's healer abilities. A set of hoofsteps echoed off the canyon walls ahead belonging to neither Rosehoof nor IronHoof. A large black mustang mare stepped into view ahead from the left, where the trail Ironhoof and Rosehoof travelled on t'd onto another along the base of the cliff. The black mare stopped in her tracks, gazing in the direction of Rosehoof and (hidden from her a bit behind Rosehoof) Ironhoof. Rosehoof slowed as they passed by, turning right. "Great Healer," the black mare whickered as Ironhoof came into her view. "I would not believe it had I not seen it with my own eyes," she started after Ironhoof, trotting behind. "I must tend to you quickly. What is your name?" the mare asked. "Ironhoof," the white filly answered as the trail finally brought the trio into a cavern. The filly grunted as Rosehoof slowed to a stop, indicating this is where they needed to be ... for a cave, it was indeed quite spacious, but Ironhoof felt the walls closing in on her. Her hoofsteps fell uncertain, touching and then retouching the ground. "Easy, Ironhoof, its okay," the black mare whickered a reassurance, then trotted around Ironhoof to face her. "A claustrophobe ... its okay ... do you trust me?" she asked, gazing into Ironhoof's eyes and allowing Ironhoof to gaze into her eyes. Ironhoof's apprehension at the cave was obvious, but felt no cause to fear the black mare. "Yes," she replied. The black mare shifted her gaze to Rosehoof and in a commanding tone whickered, "Get my relaxer leaves." Without hesitation, Rosehoof bobbed her head and trotted back off down the trail, her hoofsteps echoing off the cave and canyon walls. Ironhoof kept her gaze on the black mare, though still a bit strung up and shifty-hooved. "Relaxer leaves? Aren't they kinda rare?" The black mare's gaze returned to the white filly. "You know something of the healer arts, Ironhoof?" is asked in a soft, curious tone. "I know a couple 'herb stuff ... I knew I healer. I can't speak t'spirits, though. I know Relaxer is durn hard t'get ... had t'travel m'ny days t'find the smallest bit," the white filly whickered, nervously swinging her head. The black mare steps forward to gently press her muzzle to the white filly's for a breath-exchange which Ironhoof readily accepted. "Rosehoof doesn't exaggerate ... if she says you took care of the Golden Ridge packs' alpha pair and their two beta pairs, the Green Canyon herd shall not spare any of what we have to give you whatever comfort we have and heal your wounds. I am Shoshone, Lead Mare of the Green Canyon herd whom you have done a service to ... I can hardly believe it! A filly ... I and our stallion, Bolt, have been fighting a losing fight with the Golden Ridge pack for a year since he took over ... our previous stallion was killed by the pack trying to defend our foals," the black mare explained as she inscribed a pattern into the floor and closed her eyes a few times in prayer to the Great Healer. Rosehoof's hoofsteps echoed between the canyon walls as she headed back toward the cave, small branches carried in her muzzle, each branch bearing small leaves. "Nibble the leaves," Shoshone whickered amid her prayers, seemingly without interruption -- a master at her craft. Ironhoof does as instructed, though feeling a bit guilty in doing so; Relaxer leaves were a very precious luxury. Within moments, the filly finds herself relaxed, the cave walls no longer seeming to close in on her -- in fact, she felt almost nothing at all, no sting from the wounds and little sense of the world beyond her. "Rest, filly-warrior," Shoshone diverted a prayer in Ironhoof's direction as the Relaxer herbs took their effect. Ironhoof's eyes drew closed and all conscious awareness of anything around her fled. Her world blackened for what seemed a mere few moments, then dimly re-lit to the night as her eyes re-opened. "Ironhoof? You awake?" Rosehoof's whinney echoed off the cavern wall from somewhere low near Ironhoof. "Wh ... where 'm I?" Ironhoof whickered back, a bit groggy and disoriented from the after-effects of the relaxer leaves. "You're okay, Ironhoof ... you are safe ... you are in the healer cave. There are healing herb leaf-bundles in front of you," the young mare whickered as she rose to her hooves, yawning. "Shoshone went to get some herbs only she knows how to find." The darkness did little to help Ironhoof grasp her surroundings. She heard, however, a snort echo off a canyon wall ... one that came from behind her, not from the same direction as Rosehoof. "Rosehoof?" Ironhoof whickered, trying to draw herself more awake. "Yes, Ironhoof," the mare, having managed to get to her hooves, trotted over to Ironhoof to nudge her assuringly. "I'm here." "Who ... who's'at behind me?" Ironhoof tries to get a look, but it is too dark to see. "That's Bolt," Rosehoof whickered with a smile ... though not a very visible smile in the nearly pitch-black cavern. "He's our stallion lead." Ironhoof grunted a bit. "How long'se been 'ere?" she asked, turning around to face his direction ... able to see each other or not, she didn't feel comfortable with her tail end to the stallion. "He's been with us two years. He took over right after..." RoseTrot whickered, her voice broke off into a disheartened cry, "... right after GorgeFlyer ... my sire ... was killed protecting me and the other foals from the wolves." Ironhoof grunted and snorted as she regained more consciousness. "No, I m'nt ... how long's 'e be'n 'ere ... in th'cave?" Rosehoof whickered, "Oh ... well ... when Shoshone told him about you and went off to get the herbs, he decided to stay here until she returned, to look after you. You're a real hero to the whole herd, Ironhoof ... none of the herd know how you took on six wolves ... well, I think I do, actually..." she trotted beside Ironhoof and nuzzled her from the side. "Wa'n't nuthin," Ironhoof whickered. "Juss' d'cided I wa'n't g'nna b'food." In a whispered volume, the young mare replied, "I know ... I think I understand ... I think I understand you." The stallion's snored grunts stirred. "Errf ... Rosehoof? She awake?" he rumbled. "I'm awake," Ironhoof replied. "What d'ya want, Bolt?" she tried spotting his form in the darkness, but his voice called from a part of the cavern entrance out of the moonlight. "I ... I beg your forgiveness for having fallen asleep," he whickered as he shook himself awake. "I guess you're smart enough to know I'm the stallion of this herd ... I'd like to think myself a strong stallion at that, though this is only the second herd I've led," he rumbled as he stepped into the moonlight near the entrance, enough for Ironhoof to make out his outline. "What you did last night was incredible. I saw the wolves for myself, saw your hooves' impressions in what remains of them, and I saw you this evening when Shoshone left ... but putting a filly together with that scene is something that boggles my mind. Very few stallions I know could have taken on even four of the wolves ... and you took on six!" The stallion's amazed rumble echoed throughout the cavern. Ironhoof smirked sheepishly and replied back, "Juss d'cided not t'be food." "Rosehoof told me you didn't think you'd be interested in joining our herd," he whickered, "but I don't think it fair if you don't get to know us. We could really use you ... I could really use you. Shoshone is strong, a great lead for us ... but she's getting old. You ... you aren't even a full-grown mare yet, but you could take over lead today! And I'm prepared to make you my lead mare ... I know the herd would accept you, knowing what you did ... if you'll please stay with us, help protect our herd..." Ironhoof grunted her disgust, reminded of Quantus. "No thanks!" she snorted back, in a tone more rude than she intended. "Errr ... I'sorry, but no ... I ain't t'be n'lead ... I ain't t'be anythin' 'n yer 'erd. An' b'lieve me, its for 'e best 'attI 'on't." The stallion replied in a confused and shocked tone, his ears flicking in the darkness. "I don't think you heard me ... you can be the lead mare of the Green Valley herd ... lead mare! Why in Thunder's name would you not want to be in a herd? What about when you're old enough to have a foal, what then? Just gonna have one by yourself and not let the sire tend to his duties by you?" Have a foal of her own? Ironhoof stamped a forehoof as she tried figuring that one out. There was a time ... a brief time ... just before Quantus' death, she felt desire to be with Flamehoof ... but she'd never even thought of having a foal. Have something grow within her? Make her weak for several moons? Ironhoof thought foals were okay ... but having one herself? The filly shuddered at the idea. Being beneath some strange stallion? 'Ughhhh ...' Ironhoof did feel close to Flamehoof and could see being under him ... but there was only one Flamehoof. She had no interest in any of the other colts nor in stallions leading the herds whose territories and ranges she'd crossed in her journey so far. This stallion was certainly no FlameHoof ... he wanted herself because she'd be an asset to the herd? She had obligations to the herd just because she's a good fighter? 'I am my own horse. I am not owned nor ruled by any being. No being owned or ruled by any other being truly lives. No being ruled by testicles truly lives. I am neither ruled nor shall I rule others. I am my own horse.' Ironhoof found the summation of her feelings within herself and voiced them. "I don't /want/ t'ave foals." Rosehoof turned her head to look at Ironhoof ... she didn't want to have foals? Ever? Certainly, Ironhoof still looked an older filly, not fully grown, but even when Rosehoof was a yearling, she felt urges to mate and have a foal ... every yearling and older she's known has had some urges. The stallion, confused by Ironhoof's indifference, slowly clopped toward her. "I beg you ... please, Ironhoof. You have a strength that's rare to find even in a stallion ... you have what it takes to lead, to protect the Green Canyon herd," he pleaded. Rosehoof snorted and stepped around Ironhoof to come between them, looking in Bolt's direction. "She said no, Bolt. She needs her rest ... she helped us, we shouldn't harrass her to doing something she doesn't want." Bolt snorted at Rosehoof ... was she challenging his authority? Still, the mare was right -- Bolt just can't fathom why Ironhoof wouldn't join the herd. Why wouldn't any mare, especially a filly, not take up the offer to become a herd's lead mare? Doesn't she realize what an honor she's earned? "Very well," he rumbled. "I hope you'll reconsider ... maybe when you're a little older ... we'll still be here ... and so long as I'm lead stallion, I won't forget what you've done for us, Ironhoof. "I 'preciate that yer thankful fer my takin' care o'e wolves," Ironhoof whickered in response, "an tho' I honestly was juss' protectin' m'self, I'm glad it helped yer 'erd out. I juss' am my own 'orse," she whickered, "I'm not owned 'er ruled b'anyone ... n'bein' owned 'er ruled b'nother bein' truly lives. I just ... don' feel like a normal mare. I ain't ruled by others, nor d'I rule others ... I'm my own 'orse!" Bolt shook his head in thought. 'If this filly is that messed up in the head, maybe its for the best. Rosehoof is right, of course -- this filly deserves whatever she wishes of the herd, even if it ignored the natural way of horses. Maybe some of Shoshone's herbs are affecting her ... maybe her injuries.' "You may stay as long as you like or need with us, Ironhoof," he whickered. "And if there is anything you need, even outside of Shoshone's expertise ... ask it and we shall serve." The white filly, barely visible in the dark cave, scratched her left forehoof along the ground in ponderance. "Honestly, Bolt, I ... r't naow, I'd juss' like t'rest an' heal a bit..." "Of course, Ironhoof, I..." "... in peace." Bolt paused several moments, taking in Ironhoof's meaning. She was, he realized, avoiding trying to be rude about her wishes ... however rude they would ordinarily be, considering she'd earned his offering their any wish, Bolt reluctantly brought himself to the realization he is honor-bound to abide by the request he leave. Not without expressed words of concern, however: "You got six of their pack. There are at least three more ... though, from what I know of their members and recognizing the ones you took care of, they don't pose too much a threat ... certainly not to us ... but they may well seek revenge in your blood ... and however strong you were to take those six on, and however weak the remaining three, perhaps more, might be ... you are injured and your ability to defend yourself is weakened and it behooves our herd, and for myself me personally, to offer our best defenses for you until you heal. May I at least remain closeby ... just in case?" Ironhoof whickered, "Hon'stly, if ya' wanna' 'com'date m'wishes, I'd rather have mares look after me ... if ya' have sum t'spare in yer 'erd who ya'd think c'ud 'andle whate'er remains o'em." Bolt felt his blood boil ... he felt genuinely insulted at what seemed to be insinuated sexual motive on his part in his offer to protect Ironhoof. He frustratedly pondered this when a realization arrived he did desire the filly ... her strength, her fight, her spirit ... and the harder she resisted, the more did he want her. Still, even if true, the accusation was an insult. It did not, of course, occur to him that Ironhoof had no desire for stallions in general ... how could it? He'd never heard of such a thing. "I ... of course," he finally responded a bit submissively, and turned and clopped away out of the cavern. Submission to a mare -- or rather a filly, not even yet a mare? Hidden from any, Bolt licked his lips at the thought ... if only she'd have him. A few more hoofsteps and he was out of the cavern, continuing the thought. A few more, he stopped and shuddered ... what was he thinking? He wasn't that kind of stallion ... he took over this herd to be strong, to protect it from and see it through the Golden Ridge pack and other threats. Not wanting to violate Ironhoof's well-expressed wish, he clopped on down the trail and tried reasoning these thoughts out. It wasn't long before he noticed a wet and breezy sensation, the telltale sign of an aroused start of a drop at the thought of submitting himself to a filly ... Back in the cavern, Rosehoof asked Ironhoof, "Do you want me to stay or go?" The white filly whickered warmly, "I'd 'ctually rather ya' stayed, Rosehoof. I ... I like ya'..." Rosehoof smiled, walked over to Ironhoof and nuzzled the side of Ironhoof's muzzle. "I like you too, Ironhoof," she whickered. The white filly and palomino mare simultaneously shifted their muzzles and exchanged breath with one another. Amid the breath-exchange, Rosehoof whicker-whispered to Ironhoof, "Do you ... desire me?" "Yes," the filly whickered back. "I desire you," Rosehoof whickered back, "in a way I'd only desired a stallion ... and you're a mare ..." "I'm yetta' filly," Ironhoof reminded Rosehoof. "Do you feel you are ... too young?" Rosehoof whickered, still engaged in her breath exchange. In the darkness, Ironhoof's eyes gazed deeply into Rosehoof's. "I old 'nuff t'kill t'd'fend m'life," she answered as her heart began pounding, "I'm old 'nuff t'luv..." The white mustang cupped her lips around the palomino mare's lower lip and probed her tongue along Rosehoof's lip and lightly sucking the lip between her teeth. Rosehoof opened her muzzle wide, cupped her upper lip over Ironhoof's nostrils, and squeezed down her own lower lip with her tongue, probing it between Ironhoof's teeth and into Ironhoof's muzzle. Ironhoof whinneyed softly and slackened her teeth-hold of Rosehoof's lower lip, letting slip Rosehoof's tongue further into her muzzle in an intimate kiss. The sounds and activity between the two horses could no longer translate into dialog; the intimacy transcended well beyond friendship into the deepest love. Two young and innocent souls, known to one another in the physical realm mere days, melded as though the days and years lived already and the days and years yet lived by either were congruent and simultaneous. The Great Mother above and Quantus, the newest of the Great Mother's herd, rejoiced in sharing the larger melding of spirit bound to the youths' joining of physical form. Intimate kiss and touching between Ironhoof and Rosehoof spawned shining warmth to The Great Mother, Quantus and their herd above. Though neither Ironhoof nor Rosehoof were coherently nor cohesively aware of this, their passion flared in their kiss, side-brush, tail-nuzzle and beyond brought their own forms their first taste of a much deeper existence than the physical. Like a foal's first vision after emerging from its damsel's womb, Ironhoof and Rosehoof's glimpse into the realm home to the Great Mother's herd was blurred and distorted at best, its brilliance too bright for their perception and denying either conscious perception of anything beyond each other and their love for one another. The Great Healer, too, felt the warmth, for the pair's lovemaking was in a physical cavern her spirit inhabited. The Healer's and the Mother's herds both celebrated the event not often shared between the fairer equine sex. It was not until the breaking of dawn the the pair returned to awareness of the physical realm. Rosehoof trotted around Ironhoof's rump, marvelling the new taste on her tongue, and trotted around to stand brushed against Ironhoof's side, shoulder to shoulder. Ironhoof, for her part, savored the flavor on her own tongue. As though on cue with the first rays of sunlight streaking into the canyon, a set of hoofclops echoed into the cavern from the trail leading up into it. "Its Shoshone," Rosehoof broke the silence, recognizing the hoofsteps. Streaks of Ironhoof's blood from her wolf-inflicted wounds uncovered from the darkness upon Rosehoof's side, smeared onto her from their intimate touch. Ironhoof turned to whicker something to Rosehoof when she noticed the 'evidence' and couldn't help but grin and chuckle looking at the bloodstreaks on Rosehoof's side. Rosehoof whuffled, "What?" trying to figure out what Ironhoof found so entertaining. She turned her head back, following Ironhoof's gaze, and noticed the streaks. "Oh, DUNGHEAP!" she barely managed keeping to a whisper as Shoshone clopped ever closer up the trail. The morning sunlight could not directly probe into the cavern because of its angle, but the brilliance of the sky and the far canyon wall lit by the light of just after dawn provided sufficient illumination to make the side-by-side pair visible (and, of course, the 'evidence'). Shoshone's muzzle appeared first to the pair, clipped by the edge of the cavern and the trail's dropoff from the relatively level floor of the cavern, leafy stems planted in her mane. She paused as she looked into the cavern, seeing Ironhoof awake standing beside Rosehoof. "Good morning," she whickered and clopped the rest of the way into the cavern. "You shoulda slept," she turns to Ironhoof, "rest is a very important ... uhhh ..." her voice trailed off a bit as she noticed the bloodstreaks on Rosehoof's side. Rosehoof's head drooped guiltily at Shoshone's shifting gaze, Shoshone in utter confusion until she gave a further regard to Rosehoof's droop. The impossible leapt into Shoshone's muzzle. "I don't suppose you tried rubbing the blood off her," Shoshone whickered to the young palomino mare. "'Twas m'dea," Ironhoof whickered, trying to take the fall, not wanting Rosehoof troubled for what Ironhoof getting what she wanted. "... no ..." Shoshone grunted. "It isn't ... by Mother ... by the Great Healer ... by ... by ..." The elder mare snorted, echoed in odd distortion off the cavern walls. "You..." she turns to the white filly. Shoshone stomped a forehoof in frustration, then trotted around Ironhoof and Rosehoof in a circle. Neither of the pair budged aside from Ironhoof turning her head to follow Shoshone's movement around them; Rosehoof kept her head low and pointed ahead. "I promised our herd would see your injuries through, Ironhoof, and we shall ... but when you're healed, I want to never hear from you again. As for you, Rosehoof Greenlife..." Rosehoof drooped her head even lower ... her full name getting addressed meant serious trouble. "I'm the lead, by the Great Healer..." Shoshone began to cursedly use the spirit's name in vane when a thunderous roar erupted around them, the entire cavern shook and bits of dust and small bits of rock fell from the ceiling, startling are but inciting the most fear in Ironhoof, setting her nerves over the edge and the filly bucked and kicked the air, sprang out of the cavern and turned to face back toward Shoshone and Rosehoof from outside, Shoshone and Rosehoof still within the cavern and stunned. "Great Healer?" Shoshone asked as the shaking calmed and she looked upon the ceiling above her. "Do I speak badly?" the green canyon lead and healer asked. "The spirits were with us," Rosehoof dared to whicker. "I felt them." "Who are you to speak for them!" Shoshone whinneyed loudly to the palomino mare, the shaking promptly resuming for several more moments. "You ... you ..." Shoshene puffed in surprise "... you do speak for the Great Healer!" Shoshone looked to Rosehoof, clopping to nuzzle her, tears welled in her eyes. "Rosehoof," she cried, "I ... I am sorry ... you are correct ... the spirits were with you ... I ... this is ......" Rosehoof's head rose not the slightest inch as a tear streamed from her own eye. "Don't you cry," Shoshone whisper-cried to her apprentice. "Not when the spirits are with you..." Ironhoof scraped the ground with a forehoof uncertainly. She felt angry with Shoshone for daring to tell her or anyone else what kind of love was wrong, but felt too weak and caught to back her anger up with her hooves. "I ... don't understand ... but they are with you," Shoshone continued. "I love Ironhoof," Rosehoof declared at last, looking out of the cavern to Ironhoof, their eyes locking from some twenty yards. Shoshone turned her own head back to look at Ironhoof. "Ironhoof ... I apologize," Shoshone whickered. "Nothing in my life has prepared me for this ... it feels unnatural to me ... but the spirits deem it right for you two. I ... I don't know quite what to do. You ..." she turned her head to glance between both of them from the periphery of her vision "... both must find your path from here." Rosehoof finally lifted her muzzle with tears still dripping from her eyes, and nuzzled her mentor. "Heal Ironhoof," she whickered simply. Shoshone nodded her head. "Of course ... of course ..." she whispered back, then shifted her gaze back to Ironhoof. "Ironhoof, come, let me heal your injuries ... I take back what I said ... I apologize," she pleaded to the white filly. "I'll not anger the Great Healer again." Ironhoof strutted back into the cavern, not hiding her confident assertion in her righteousness. "I love /you,/" she finally returned the palomino's declaration. Shoshone clopped to meet Ironhoof as Ironhoof stopped in the cavern and she whickered to Ironhoof, "This bite to your neck is your worst," gently nuzzled up at a large scab on the under-foreside of Ironhoof's neck. Shoshone flicked her tongue at the injury to gently clean off the scab. A scar emerged underneat the scab from Shoshone's cleaning. "HUH?" Shoshone whickered confusedly. "So quickly?" she nipped off the rest of the scab, revealing a clean scar, no open wound or bleeding. "I ... this ... incredible ..." "Shoshone?" Rosehoof whickered, mystified. "We both saw that yesterday ... it was bleeding very actively ... I don't get it ... how could it have healed without your even doing anything?" Rosehoof looked to the herb-bundles that had been prepared; she they wouldn't have been enough to stopped Ironhoof's bleeding, but besides which, in her and Ironhoof getting caught up in one another, Ironhoof hadn't even consumed them! Shoshone turned her head from Ironhoof's neck to look Rosehoof in the eye as Ironhoof looked on at both of them, trying to figure out what was going on. "It must have been you, last night. You must have worked healing power ... much, much stronger than anything I ... nor any healer I have ever heard of ... could wield." Rosehoof marvels for a moment in awe at the thought she could be so powerful. "But ... no ... I didn't even try ... we were just ... we ..." Shoshone turned to look Ironhoof in the eye. "With my best skill, it would have taken days just stop your bleeding ... weeks before you coulda been ready to travel ... but you are fully healed after just one night. Whatever you and Shoshone did ... it brought the Healer in the cavern here with you ... only she herself, acting directly ... something I've never heard of her doing ... could have done this. Do you feel any pain?" the elder mare asked, her voice excited but somewhat rational. Ironhoof looked back to the spot she sprang to and realized, for the first time, she had no pain in the fast move that she knows should have hurt. Even the mild bruising she sometimes got when she played rough with Flamehoof would leave her sore for days sometimes when she tried to move. "None ... I feel gud," she whickered. "Well I'll be a raccoon's aunt!" Shoshone delcared. "You're healed ... all you need is a tood bath to wash off the dried blood." Looking between the two of them. "As to how it happened ... well ... if I had any lingering doubts about the spirits having been with you ... that ... well ... that dispelled it. I ... still don't feel quite right with it ... and I'd appreciate it if neither of you spoke of this to the rest of the herd, especially Bolt." Ironhoof turned her head to look back at the black mare. "Mebbe I shud juss' leave?" Shoshone shook her head. "Please ... you should at least meet the herd ... they all know about the wolves and all want to at least see you. They might be disappointed if you don't stay ... but ... you more than earned your right to do as you please with us." Ironhoof whickered to the black mare, "I ... err ... yer stallion ... tried t'be nice ... I juss ... well y'know a li'l what I b'n keep'n t'm'self ... its who I am ... all o'it." Shoshone closed her eyes and went silent for a moments, then with her eyes still closed whickered back, "The Great Mother was with you as well ... and another with the Great Mother, one I had not seen ... a large white horse ... a mare ..." "Quantus," Ironhoof shuddered. "She ... she was with us?" "Yes, Quantus, a spirit I do not know ... I thought you spoke with no spirit?" Shoshone's eyes finally opened asking this question. "She ... she wasn't a spir't as I knew 'er," Ironhoof explained. "She ... sh'meant a lot t'me ... she tried t'do as I thought t'do, as I doin' now, but coug'rs got 'er ..." Ironhoof cried, the first time Ironhoof had done so since leaving Bronze Valley. She'd cried for days after Quantus' death, but dealing with Flamehoof's blaming her took away her time for guilt. "'Twas 'cuzza m'tellin' 'er she cud lib'rate herself..." "Shhh ... shhh ... shhh, filly," Shoshone arched her head over the back of Ironhoof's neck in an equine hug. "... don't ... don't blame yourself. I couldn't fully understand the Great Mother's message as she gave it to me just a few moments ago, Ironhoof, but I do now ... you didn't fail in liberating Quantus, you succeeded ... you broke a heavy chain that a mare of every generation in your herd has suffered, over and over ... you freed Quantus of that chain, letting fate guide her to the Great Mother's herd, and you freed yourself, guided to us, your ultimate destiny ... even the Great Mother doesn't yet know herself. You did as you should have. The Great Mother regrets she hasn't it within herself to speak with you directly, nor does Quantus, but you will find some to help you speak with them. For their message today, it was me." Ironhoof's eyes glimmered from her tears and a newfound spirit within herself. Shoshone closed her eyes again, as though called back to something. "'You are your own horse. You are not owned nor ruled by any being. No being owned or ruled by any other being truly lives to you. No being ruled by testicles truly lives for you. You are neither ruled by nor shall you rule others. You are your own horse.'" The words stiffened Ironhoof's spirit to solid and strong, her tears ceased in an instant. "Who ... who gave th'words t'ya ... I ne'r been told 'em ... but they're m'art, m'mantra, m'bein'?" the filly asked. Shoshone re-opened her eyes and looked into Ironhoof's eyes to answer question. "Quantus ... they're her liberation to you over the guilt you feel for her and her son. They are strength you give yourself, Ironhoof." Shoshoned idly clopped around the cavern, turned toward the cavern wall and examined a small crack formed within it when the cavern shook earlier. "I guess all that needed to be done here has been done," she turned her head toward Ironhoof and Rosehoof. "Let's go see the herd ... they're grazing by the lakeshore," she smiled. "Haven't been able to graze there in a long time thanks to the wolves ... its a sort of celebration." "Grass is good there ... and you can wash the blood off in the lake," Rosehoof chimed a whicker in, her warm gaze directed at Ironhoof betraying a terrible struggle the young palomino started fighting within herself ... she grew up in the lush Green Canyon, come to know and love the herd and come to love and admire Shoshone, excited to learn from one who speaks with not just the Great Healer but the Great Mother as well ... and as she transitioned from mare to filly looked forward to having a foal her own within the herd. Out of the blue, a white filly saved the herd ... and utterly tossed her own life into chaos. Rosehoof is torn between her new, unexpected but no less real, intense and deep love for Ironhoof and her love of Green Canyon and the herd she had grown up with and never before considered leaving. "Y'can wash m'blood off there too," Ironhoof chuckle-whickered back to the palomino with no sense of the brewing storm within Rosehoof. Shoshone led the way, trotted a good clip out of the cavern and down the path and Ironhoof merrily started after her when she sensed hesitation in the third horse ... the horse she loved no less intensely than Rosehoof loved back. Rosehoof could no longer contain the growing pain. "Ironhoof," she sobbed, looking teary-eyed to the white filly, "I love you..." Ironhoof shook her head, uncertain what the matter could be. "I love ya', Roseh'f, very deeply. Why ya'cryin'?" "I don't know if I can go with you when you leave ... I don't know if I can leave Shoshone and my friends behind here," she sobbed, tears streaming down her muzzle. Ironhoof stood flabbergasted. "I ... dinna' think o'that ..." she whickered and clopped up to face her lover, arched her neck around Rosehoof's in an assuring hug. "I'm s'rry ... I dinna' mean t'bring ya' t'hard choice..." "I know, I know you didn't, Ironhoof," the palomino buried her dampening muzzle in Ironhoof's forechest. By then, Shoshone had realized neither of them had followed and the echo of her hoofsteps resonated in the cavern. Her head appeared and she gazed in, noticed the lovers having a difficult moment, and decided to butt out. She trotted back down the trail a ways to wait for them. Ironhoof, not knowing what more to say, stood in the hug and let her lover's tears soak into her fur. "I luv ya', Rosehoof," she voiced, wishing very much the palomino would go with her, knowing she'd feel lonely on her journey now that she had love just to lose it. "I don't want to be apart from you, Ironhoof ... you touch my spirit on a deep level that's never been touched before ... but I don't want to be apart from the herd, either ... I also know you can't stay with the herd. No way for me to be with both you and the herd," Rosehoof snuffled, her tears slowed but not stopped. Ironhoof felt the crush herself a bit. For Ironhoof, the decision to leave her herd hadn't even been that ... the herd ejected her, though she already had it in her mind to liberate herself. Her mother was the only link left in her herd, and though Ironhoof knew she'd miss Sweetclover, she had a much stronger urge pulling her away from the herd that feared and blamed her for Quantus' and Flamehoof's deaths. "I need some time alone, Ironhoof ... I should wash up myself anyway, I'll do it in a place I like to think, up the canyon at the base of the waterfall," Rosehoof whickered, looking into Ironhoof's eyes. "Y'shur?" Ironhoof whickered, more wanting to be with Rosehoof than be the center of attention for the herd. "I must figure this one out for myself." Ironhoof took her turn to sniffle and rubbed the side of her muzzle along the side of Rosehoof's. "I won't go 'til 'ya 'cide ... don't matter t'me if ya' need a day, a week, a moon..." Rosehoof looked even more intently. "No matter what I decide," she whuffles, "I know I'll never find another love as deep as my love for you." Ironhoof broke into her own tears. "Oh, Rosehoof..." she sobbed. "I ... I wish s'much 'tweren't s'hard..." Not knowing anything else to be said, the white filly glumly turned around after several minutes and slowly clopped away. The elderly black mare stood waiting not far down the trail, close to the 'T' they had come up. "She's trying to figure out whether to stay with us or go with you?" Shoshone asked. Ironhoof said nothing, but bobbed her head. Shoshone grunted as she led the way back down the path leading away from the cliff, as Rosehoof took the other path along the base of the canyon toward the waterfall. Shoshone led Ironhoof down the path toward the lake ... how could Rosehoof even consider it when she and Ironhoof only knew each other two days? How could intense love take hold of Rosehoof so quickly that it could measure up against the friendship between herself and the palomino, or Rosehoof's bond with her own mother for that matter, or any of her friends? Shoshone whickered not a word of these thoughts, as she knew from Ironhoof's demeanor the white filly was torn up enough herself. Love at first light? One night mares bound to inseparability? The thoughts weighed on Shoshone as the scent of the herbs in her mane distracted her ... she'd forgotten them; she'd gathered them for Ironhoof ... though they clearly weren't needed now. As they didn't keep well for long, Shoshone arched her head back as she continued leading the way down the trail toward the lake, pulling the herbal leaf stems from her mane and tossing them into the brush. Racer was the first they met. "Shoshone? Back so so... IRONHOOF?" the scout looked on in surprise. "By the Great Healer, Shoshone ... you've outdone yourself!" "Gather the herd," Shoshone whickered to Racer, trying to raise her downed tone to pleasant. "So they can meet Ironhoof." Racer, true to her name, galloped away at a good clip, whinneying to the herd to gather as Shoshone and Ironhoof reached the point where the trail opened up to the field along the lakeshore Ironhoof had followed Rosehoof across just the day before ... hard to believe it was only a day; felt nearly a lifetime ago to Ironhoof. So much had happened ... The herd gathered around Bolt, who looked more than a little flabbergasted to see the Ironhoof trotting at a good, healthy clip ... he gave her injuries a good lookover himself. "Ugh," Ironhoof whickered, "I already met 'im. Can't Bolt g'do whatever it 'tis test'cle-brains do?" Shoshone whickered to Ironhoof, "Bolt is our lead, Ironhoof, he's done well looking after us. I'd appreciate it if you could show him a little respect." She's grown short again with Ironhoof, a bit jealous that Ironhoof affected Rosehoof so strong, so quickly. The filly grunted, "Y'know he wanted t'replace ya' with me? 'E boasted that t'try 'n get me t'stay." Shoshone paused her trot, came to a stop and Ironhoof pulled up beside her, bringing the older black mare and white filly to stand shoulder-to-shoulder. Each turned their head to the other, then Shoshone turned her head to look at Bolt. "He did, did he?" If what Ironhoof said were true, something of her nature might make sense. Shoshone felt disheartened at the notion of Bolt seeking to replace her with some filly ... "Thinking with his balls, most likely. /Usually/ he thinks better than that." Whether this was meant to assure Ironhoof or reassure herself, Shoshone did not know. The gathering herd eyed the white filly standing beside their lead mare, whickering back and forth below what any of them could hear ... the one that slayed the six Golden Ridge wolves. A /filly/, by Mother! How could this possibly be true? But clearly visible were the scab telling of her fight. Finally, Bolt whinneyed to Ironhoof and pulled his head back in a 'Come out here' motion. "D'I gotta do this?" Ironhoof grunteded to Shoshone. Shoshone turned to Ironhoof, grinned and nudged her. "Its the price of being a heroine." "I can't stop th'nkin' 'bout Rosehoof," Ironhoof whickered. "I ... errr ... 'guess y'can't und'rstand." Shoshone's demeanor grew stern and assertive. "She must decide on her own what's right for her, Ironhoof." The words she gave, the black mare realized, she should listen to herself. "Green Canyon is important to her ... I'm rather amazed she'd even consider ... but, then, you're right, I can't fully understand the power you have over her heart." Ironhoof wished she could convey to Shoshone and others, but all she's ever known within a herd is how much she can /not/ convey how truly deep her feelings and thoughts are, and how they are not merely ingrained imprints, but rather the very core of her soul. Certainly Rosehoof felt it ... there could be no denial between Ironhoof and Rosehoof of the previous night's events. Ironhoof found her gaze wandering back behind her, up the canyon toward the waterfall in the distance. Ironhoof couldn't know, of course, what it was like up there at the base of that waterfall ... but she knew Rosehoof was up there, and that was enough for Ironhoof to want to be there more than anywhere else. Instead, however, Rosehoof desired solitude ... understandable, but even understanding it did nothing to ebb Ironhoof's desire to just be with her. Shoshone brought Ironhoof's thoughts away from that pool she has never even seen with a nip at her shoulder. "Ironhoof, Rosehoof must decide on her own what's right for her. My herd wants to see you ... it'll help get your mind off her." Ironhoof turned her head to again look at Shoshone. "I'm sor'ey," she whickered sorrowfully, then shifted her gaze back to Bolt and the waiting mares, fillies and colts of the herd with a whuffled sigh. Reluctantly, she trudged forward to meet them. A myriad of sparkling eyes peered at her, an armada of equine smiles and grins. A few dissenting whispers between a few of them erupt at Ironhoof's less than enthused expression. Bolt, for his part, stood stolid, expressionless. He realized, at least somewhat, how foolishly he'd behaved ... but he still had to be the herd's stallion, proud and confident and so he stood to the front and center of the others in the herd. "Heya," Ironhoof finally whickered to them with a forced grin. "'Case ya' hadn't heard, m'name's Ironhoof." A chorus of chuckles erupts, whether from the fact the whole herd had been told their name or from Ironhoof's rugged speech not even those making the chuckles knew. "Not sure what ya'll 'spectin' ... well, I'm me an' ... an' ... an' glad whadd'I did helped y'all out sum." Racer broke the herd's not-certain-what-to-say silence, trotted out to meet Ironhoof, pressed her muzzle to the filly and whickered, "Thank you for your bravery." Ironhoof politely returned the nuzzling, though her thoughts continued wandering to Rosehoof. "Thank ya' 'n 'yer 'erd fur' lookin' after me an' healin' m'juries." One young mare in particular ... but Ironhoof carefully kept that thought to herself. Bolt remained standing where he was as the rest of the herd finally stepped forward to meet Ironhoof. A young chestnut colt strutted out to face Ironhoof. "You might be stronger than wolves but I'm stronger than you!" he boasted, rearing onto his hind legs in a play-challenge ... even reared as he was, the colt didn't go much above Ironhoof's shoulders. Smirking, Ironhoof reared onto her own hind hooves in front of the colt, then slammed her hooves down inches in front of him. At the display, the colt ran and hid behind his mother, to the laughter of most of his peers and even a few of the adults in the herd. "I'm sorry about that," his mother whickered to Ironhoof. "Scorpion's got a mind to challenge anything that moves..." she shook her head, turning back to scold her son. "'Sawright," Ironhoof smiled. "'e was juss' playin'." Bolt's gaze wandered at last from Ironhoof and swept back and forth across his herd. Someone was missing ... he clopped around Ironhoof and his herd surrounding her to to Shoshone standing alone, a few paces behind Ironhoof. "Where's Rosehoof?" the stallion whickered to his lead mare. Shoshone looked Bolt square in the eye with the look in her own eyes of 'Don't question me!' and whickered simply, "She's busy." Hearing the exchange, Ironhoof turned her gaze back to Shoshone and Bolt. Shoshone then turned her gaze for a moment back to meet Ironhoof's gaze, her expression not changing, then back to Bolt. "I guess my daughter was the first one to meet you," an older palomino mustang whickered to Ironhoof, bringing the filly's attention back forward to the voice. "I am Rosehoof's mother, Raindance," she introduced. "Pleased t'meecha. Rose has ..." Ironhoof paused, trying to think what to say without causing a scene. "... she's been ... nice t'me." Ironhoof flicked her ears as Shoshone stepped forward, past Bolt who remained standing , turning his head to follow his lead mare. Shoshone stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Ironhoof, gazing at her, her wordless expression to Ironhoof one of 'That's more than enough.' Raindance noticed Shoshone's look to Ironhoof. "Shoshone? What's going on with my daughter?" "Rosehoof is fine," Shoshone whickered, finally taking her cold gaze off Ironhoof. "You have my assurance on that, Raindance. She's just ... busy." "Did she cause Ironhoof problems?" Raindance asked, trying to figure the situation out. "No ma'am," Ironhoof whickered immediately. "No problems 'tall. 'Fact ..." ... another glare from Shoshone ... "... she an' I been friends. Juss' that ... I ain't gonna be stayin, y'see, an' ... well ..." she's tempted to say they're gonna miss one another, but her honor prevents her from such a lie; she holds out belief that Rose will go with her. Now that she's dug herself in, Ironhoof saw too late why Shoshone wanted her to say nothing. "Oh," Raindance whickered, thankfully breaking off Ironhoof's searching for what to say. "I see," she whickered, though Shoshone and Ironhoof both doubted she did (or rather, hoped she didn't). "Well, you could always stay with us, Ironhoof ..." she looked to Bolt, "couldn't she?" "NO," Shoshone broke in, cutting off Bolt before he had a chance to answer, "she could not." "Shoshone!" Bolt whickered dominantly as he stepped forward. "Its true Ironhoof has expressed no interest in staying with us," he whickered, "and she is certainly free to go ... but /I/ have final say in whether she has the choice of joining our herd and would she so honor us, I can think of no reason to refuse!" Shoshone snorted angrily ... Ironhoof was right about him! "You'd have her replace me, wouldn't you! Why don't you think with your HEAD for a change instead of your balls...!" Bolt stomped a forehoof, frustrated by his own words coming back to haunt him. It would not be him to back down from his own words, however ... "Shoshone, you stubborn mare! Your are a strong lead and I love you, but even you know your days are numbered. You've seen this herd through how many stallions as lead ... Five? Six? I am fresh blood..." "I MAY BE OLD," Shoshone whinneyed shrilly at him, "but I still got plenty of fight and kick to me yet! You wanna fight!? I can see the herd through ten more stallions!" Bolt snorted at her, then looked to Ironhoof. "Is Shoshone the reason you've decided not to stay? Don't let her stop you ... I run this herd, not her, and..." Ironhoof's blood boiled, incensed at his demeaning Shoshone. She turned to face him, reared and slammed so hard it echoed throughout the canyon. "ENOUGH!" she thundered with such ferocity the herd backed away from her, save Shoshone. "Ya' DON'T OWN SHOSHONE ... Ya' DON'T OWN ME, NEITHER! I am Ironhoof an' I am my own 'orse! You thinkin' only with the anchors draggin' down yer thinkin' b'tween yer 'ind legs! I ain't t'be owned by you or by any stallion! You don't even r'spect Shoshone!" the filly rumbled and ranted. "Y'wanna know why I can't stay? Y'wanna know why Rosehoof isn't here? 'Cuz we LOVE 'chother!" "Ironhoof..." Shoshone interrupted, trying to stop the filly, but in a tone much quieter than Ironhoof's angered rumbling. "Yain't 'n m'interests!" Ironhoof finished her rant to Bolt, her snorting the only sound for several otherwise quiet minutes. Raindance, now behind Ironhoof since Ironhoof had turned around to rant at Bolt, finally broke the silence. "That ... can't be true. My daughter ... isn't like that..." The one horse Ironhoof felt no grounds to stand up to ... the filly turned to her. "I'm ... sorry ..." she whickered sorrowfully. "It just kinda happened ..." "Stop it!" Raindance whickered. "Rosehoof /isn't like that!/ I know my own daughter!" "HEY!" whinneyed a voice from up the canyon trail. Rosehoof stood and looked on at the scene; apparantly she had heard it for some time. "Rosehoof!" chorused Raindance, Ironhoof and Shoshone. "You are all making so much noise I can't think straight!" the young palomino mare whickered, frustrated, and started her way down to Ironhoof, Bolt, Shoshone and Raindance, the rest of the herd having backed off a bit at the argument. "I guess the truth is out now," she added. "Ironhoof is telling the truth, mother," she looked her mother in the eye. "I ... she ... brought something out in me ... please don't blame her ..." "Rosehoof..." Raindance cried. "... but Green Canyon ... our herd ... our family ... foals ..." Rosehoof trotted up beside Ironhoof. "This filly is stronger than any stallion we've had. Her hooves vanquished my father GorgeFLyer, Choquin, Shasta, Klamath ... and all the others we've lost to Golden Ridge ... without her, we wouldn't have a future. However different she may be, all of us owe her the utmost respect! She may be just a filly, but she's earned her place to say and think what she wants ... and what she says is the truth. I love Ironhoof deeply ... our spirits melded last night. /That/ is how she healed so quickly ... the Spirits were with us when we were together! The Great Mother /and/ the Great Healer!" "That's not possible!" Bolt whickered. "I've only heard of that in legend, and only a natural union between stallion and mare..." "It did happen," Shoshone added in, turning to explain to Raindance and the herd. "When I returned from my herbal quest for Ironhoof this morning, she was already healed. The blood on her wounds is dried scabs ... underneath, she's fully healed. When I questioned whether the Spirits were with them, the spirits gave me a ... definite answer." "It just isn't natural!" Bolt stomped. "A mare and a mare ... its against the natural way of the horse!" "It's nat'r'l fur me," Ironhoof returned to Bolt. "That's partly why I can't b'with 'is 'erd. What's nat'r'l fur ya'll ain't nat'r'l fur me." Silence again befell them for several minutes. A gentle breeze puffed through, rippling through the grass and the lake's surface. The distant yet very shrill scream of an eagle echoed throughout the canyon, followed after a moment by the movement of a hoof, and then another ... Raindance walked over to her daughter. "Rosehoof, my beloved girl ... what is natural for you?" The mother half-whickered, half-cried in fear. Not a hint of shame, however; this mother loved her daughter regardless. "I've never felt anything in my life like my love for this filly," the palomino whickered somberly to her mother. "How am I to measure that intensity with my love for Green Canyon? I love you, mom," the young mare stepped forward to plant her muzzle affectionately into her mother's forechest. "I love the herd ... but I also love Ironhoof very intensely, very deeply," she sniffled and sobbed. Ironhoof looked on at Rosehoof. She felt right for her love, and guilty for the strife it was bringing the herd at the same time. "I 'n give ya' more time, Rose..." Ironhoof whickered. "I ... wanna make shur ya' make ... whatever deci'jin's right fur ya'. I ... really love ya'." The palomino mare lifted her muzzle from her mother's shoulder, looking tearfully into her mother's eyes, then over to Shoshone and Bolt, then finally brought her gaze to Ironhoof. She walked slowly over to the white filly and arched her neck around Ironhoof's in a hug. Ironhoof reciprocated the gesture, Ironhoof and Rosehoof's heads resting upon the base of each other's manes. Ironhoof knew just from the touch it wasn't a final decision, that Rosehoof just wanted to be held for a moment and feel her love. The palomino mare and white filly held intimate conversation that had no vocalization nor other physical sign any other physical beings could sense, not even Shoshone, Raindance nor Bolt. "Rosehoof..." Raindance started toward her daughter again, but cut off by Shoshone. "Shshsh..." the lead mare hushed and stepped between Raindance and her daughter. "She's my daughter," Raindance protested quietly. "I don't want to lose her..." "I don't want to lose her any more than you do," Shoshone whispered back, trying to keep her whickering low enough so as not to disturb the communing pair. "But it must be her choice ... not you nor I, nor Bolt ... nor Ironhoof, for that matter, should make that choice for her." "Shoshone..." Raindance sobbed and pressed her own muzzle into the large black mare. "Why this? ... why my daughter ...?" The filly and young mare couldn't hear the cries of the mother nor the assertive assurance of Shoshone. Nor could they sense the confusion and frustration from Bolt, who realized the one he'd thought would be the salvation of the herd to be as bad as the wolves now dared to try and take one away from the herd. "Vulgar filly," Bolt snorted under his breath. Three pairs of eyes and ears fixed upon the pair as the rest of the herd broke off into small groups in the distance, trying to figure out what was happening amongst themselves. 'I need you in my life,' Ironhoof thought to Rosehoof. Her rough verbal speech was merely a fragmented shell of the depth of her thoughts ... a fragmented shell that was not the truth of her thought, and in this intimate sharing of thoughts, showed no sign. 'Now and until I no longer breathe. I love you, but can never own you ... I am my own horse. I am not owned nor ruled by any other being than myself any my own heart. I am neither ruled or owned nor shall I rule or own another. I am my own horse ... but my heart yearns for your heart. My spirit yearns for your spirit ... but my love for you is not ownership of you, and my love for you can only be served by your choosing what is right for you.' 'I love you, Ironhoof,' thought Rosehoof back to the filly. 'You've touched me in a way I've never been touched before ... and don't think I could ever be touched by another in that way again. I've never felt so close, so right with another ... except with my herd as a whole. I wish my decision were easier ... part of my wishes to ignore all other considerations and run off with you ... but another part of me loves my herd, loves my mother and keeps me here.' A shadow draped over the canyon from the west, a large cloud having invaded the clear day and behind it a thick, black bank of clouds ... a storm. Distant thunder rumbled. This, too, went unsensed by the mares, their eyes closed in each other's embrace. 'Rosehoof...' A slurry of intense thoughts and emotions erupted from the filly, not decently untranslatable into words. An vow of eternal spiritual bond, even if the two were to part ways in the physical ... sorrow and guilt at having been the source of strife for her beloved Rosehoof and the herd Rosehoof clearly deeply cared for ... and simultaneously a desire to run free with Rosehoof untethered by her herd obligations. Every last thought, every last feeling Ironhoof thought to Rosehoof in their link. The leading fringe of the thunderstorm reached the canyon and hail pelted Rosehoof and Ironhoof, Shoshone and Rainstorm, Bolt and the rest of the herd. The stinging slugs of ice, after a few minutes, finally brought Ironhoof and Rosehoof out of their link and into the physical. "I'll m's ya' more 'en anythin'..." Ironhoof cried, the first to verbally speak. "One more night together..." Rosehoof promised. Looking to her mother still embracing Shoshone amid the stinging hailstorm, she plead, "... alone." "You ... you've decided to stay?" Shoshone asked. Rosehoof nodded. "I and Ironhoof will always be together in spirit ... I wish I could be with her and the herd at the same time ... but life isn't fair." Shoshone turned to face Raindancer and whickered something. Raindancer looked up at Ironhoof for a moment, then her daughter, then nodded to Shoshone. Shoshone turned back to looks at Ironhoof and Rosehoof. "The healing cave is yours for tonight ... no one shall disturb you," she whickered as the hailstorm lightened up, turning her gaze to Bolt. "... no one." Bolt snorted. "This herd will not run amok! I will be respected, by Thunder!" "Bolt!" Rosehoof's calm tone erupted into anger as the young palomino mare turned her attention to sending a fiery glare his direction. "Stuff it under your tail!" Shoshone whickered a chuckle ... the 'anchor-brain' as Ironhoof had referred to him more than deserved that. She turned from Raindance to walk up to the stallion, giving him a cold stare. "Ironhoof has proven more deserving of our respect than you, Bolt. I may not find her or this situation ... tasteful ... but the herd owes its safety from Golden Ridge to her, and that is something you have not been able to provide for us. However ... different ... Ironhoof may be, she has earned my respect and both the Great Mother and the Great Healer, both of whom I owe an eternal allegiance to, blessed their night in the healing cave ... if you dare to challenge the will of those spirits whose guidance we forever rely upon, it is not /they/ who go against the order of the horse but /you!/" Bolt stamped a forehoof in frustration ... this is intolerable! Mares do not mate with mares! Certainly not in /his herd/ ... and this is /his herd!/ He won the challenge to his predecessor here! How dare they ... How DARE they!!! "This is MY herd!" he finally snorted. Ironhoof, having remained silent and feeling guilty as the outsider having caused the trouble, finally sticks her muzzle back into the situation. She turned to face Bolt, a challenging look in her eyes, and reared high onto her hind legs and remained standing as one stallion challenging another would, her forehooves pedaling a bit at the air to invite the stallion to return the challenge. "I took dow' six wolves," she snorted, "One anchor-brain ain't much t'compare!" A hole opened in the clouds and a ray of sunlight encircled Ironhoof and Bolt. Bolt whinneyed, his instinct driving him to raise onto his hindhooves to answer the challenge, but before he even got a quarter of the way into the rearing, he aborted and came down. "Mares don't challenge stallions!" he snorted. "C'mon, ya' coward!?" Ironhoof irked. Shoshone and Rosehoof backed off a couple steps to give Ironhoof some room, still reared and looking very ready to fight. "If you don't answer her challenge," Shoshone brayed to Bolt, "then we don't recognize you as your leader!" "This is madness!" Bolt whinneyed, but with the lead mare putting him in the position, he felt he had little choice. "I don't want to hurt you..." he shorted as he reared as well. "If I were you," Rosehoof snorted, "I wouldn't worry about Ironhoof being the one hurt from this!" At seeing their leader rise to meet the challenge of another horse, the herd gathered in to watch ... the fact the other horse was a filly made the confrontation all the more intriguing. Ironhoof 'walked' forward on her hind hooves until she and Bolt made contact. "First t'fall loses!" she snorted. I can put this filly down easily without hurting her ... and the herd won't hate me and I'll keep my honor, thought Bolt to himself. "Fine!" he grunted and grappled his forehooves around Ironhoof, trying to twist her so she would go down on her side where her hind legs couldn't keep her aloft, especially after already having held her rear for several moments before he met her challenge. Ironhoof was prepared for the move, however, and with strength that surprised him, plowed her hindhooves forward to get more leverage under Bolt. Her shoulder meet the underside of Bolt's chest, her full body working as a spring against him and slipped out from his grapple, leaving him in a precarious position, finding himself the one in danger of falling to the side. He pulled himself taut to get back high on his hindhooves to recover. The filly grunted and used her leverage to pushe hard back against his chest, adding to Bolt's attempt to right his position to angle him completely vertical. A final thrust up and into his chest from Ironhoof toppled him over and the stallion crashed backward and down hard. Stunned, he laid there on his back for several moments and Ironhoof slammed down from her rear, her head over his lower underside with forehooves to either side of his tail. She snorted and grunted down at him, "'Tupid anchor-brain! Why 'oncha get lost!" "I ... lost?" Awareness waned in the vulnerable stallion ... the fall had been hard in more ways than one to him. "You lost!" Shoshone answered back. "Ironhoof is our leader now ... /she/ replaces /you!/" the would-be-retired lead mare grunted. A chorus of laughter erupted from the herd ... they saw the strain on Bolt and knew he wasn't holding back much at all ... the filly had won fair and square! Memory of the past few minutes finally began to return to the stallion ... where did this filly come to be so strong? It just isn't right or natural for a mare, much less a filly, to seriously challenge a stallion! "You aren't right," he grunts. The filly kicks a forehoof out, butting hard into the back of one of Bolt's thighs, rather precariously close to his stallionhood. "I /earned/ bein' right!" Ironhoof snorted. "Now get lost b'fore I /really/ 'urt ya!" Bolt's gaze focused on Ironhoof's eyes ... there was no hint she was anything but deadly serious. By Thunder ... a psychotic filly! Bolt summoned whatever sensibility he had within himself to get to his hooves and high-tailed away from the psychotic filly, tripping and stumbling several times as a result of his still somewhat stunned state as he galloped away. The dark clouds finally dissipated overhead. Shoshone brayed at the victor. "Ironhoof, you lead us now!" Rosehoof whickered, "You don't have to leave now! Shoshone accepts you, and the rest of the herd follows Shoshone!" Ironhoof snorted in the direction of Bolt's departure until she was satisfied his pride and ego were sufficiently crippled that he wouldn't return before turning to face Rosehoof, Shoshone, Raindancer and the herd. "No," she whickered as her blood cooled from the fight. "No ... I 'an't lead ya'. I can ne'er rule another, juss' as I can't b'ruled by 'nother." The filly stepped upto Shoshone, looking her in the eye. "Shoshone, ya' lead 'is 'erd ... 'til ya' find a stallion t'yer an the herd's liking." Rosehoof stepped over to nudge Ironhoof. "But ... we could be together ..." Ironhoof drooped her head and rubbed her muzzle along Rosehoof's. "I can't be in yer' 'erd, an' ya' can't leav'em," Ironhoof half-whickered, half-sobbed. "Like ya' said ... one last night t'gether ... then a ... g'bye ..." The filly that had just minutes before seemingly so easily taken down the herd's stallion trembled in sadness. Shoshone chimed, "I hope to rise to the challenge you put to me, Ironhoof ... leading the herd alone ... with the wolves gone, I can do it ... and hopefully some day find a better stallion than Bolt to lead us. Still, I fear and am uncertain ... this has not been the way of our herd ... but as you rose, so I shall." Ironhoof looked to Shoshone. "I 'ot fight 'n me," she whickered, "but ya' got 'xperience that'd surv Gre'n Cany'n lot more 'en my hooves. I wish I c'u'd b'in Rosehoof's fellowship, but just ain't me t'be inna 'erd ... 'least, not inna 'erd you'd wanna be 'in ... an ... 'is is yer' 'erd." Rosehoof's eyes shed tears in unison with Ironhoof. She pressed her muzzle to Ironhoof's ear and whickered, "I love you." Ironhoof hoofed the ground in frustration. This wasn't fair at all, but she knew it couldn't be. Shoshone whickered to Ironhoof, her own eyes getting a bit bleary. "You are a brave filly ... and I don't mean for fighting wolves or challenging a stallion. Whenever I speak to the Great Mother and the Great Healer, I will always include asking for a blessing for you to the end of my days," she somberly vowed. Ironhoof smiled at that, turned her head to warmly nuzzle Shoshone. "Thank ya' fur th'honor." Rosehoof chortles, drawing Ironhoof's gaze back to her. The white filly and palomino mare's eyes communicate the meaning ... its time. "Pleasant trails, Ironhoof," Shoshone whickered sincerely, knowing this would be the last she would see of the filly. Raindance, who had remained quiet, not sure what to make of all this, finally spoke again. "Pleasant trails, Ironhoof," she echoed Shoshone's farewell to the filly. "Pleasant trails, Ironhoof," the herd, still nearby from the challenge, whickered in unison. Ironhoof bowed her head respectfully to the herd, looked again to Rosehoof, and the pair trotted their way back up the trail and off toward the healing cave. The afternoon sun arched across the sky to set, giving way to dusk, evening and moonlight. The Green Canyon herd gave the filly and mare their peace, not one daring to go near the trail to the healing cave. For Ironhoof and Rosehoof, time and anything external to themselves, the very ground they stood upon circling and dancing with one another and the air around them heated from their passion did not exist. Day changing to night, the rumble of the waterfall in the distance and the river rapids below the trail leading to their cave ... neither Ironhoof nor Rosehoof had any note or sense of it. Tender nuzzles and licks, the drawing of each other's scent and the feel and scent of their breaths upon each other, the warmth of each other's spirits and bodies in the presence of one another were all either had awareness of. Only with the breaking of dawn did their senses wane from each other and regain a presence and perception in the physical ... and their first verbal words to one another since Rosehoof's whisper into Ironhoof's ear the night before. "Rosehoof," the answer came a night later from the white filly, shakingly, "I love you." Rosehoof first, and then Ironhoof broke down into tortured sniffles and snorts as they felt their time drawing nigh. "Our spirits will meet again, someday," Rosehoof whickered, "when neither of us draws breath in this world." "A day I 'ont rush," the filly returned, "but fore'er look f'ward to." The filly arched her neck and clung it tightly around the palomino mare's. "'Is is the 'ardest thing I've 'ad t'do." Somehow harder, even, than what she'd done to Flamehoof, Ironhoof realizes ... but doesn't know why. "Go," Rosehoof pained, trying to break the bridges to each other they couldn't keep. Ironhoof pulled out of the hug, taking a few steps backward to take one last look at Rosehoof, eye-to-eye. "Ya' beautiful, Rosehoof ... an' I'll love you forever," she sobbed. Their eyes locked, each badly torn yet each knowing the way this must go. "I love you forever," Rosehoof finally returned. A turn, a step, and the passing of a couple days out of more than a thousand that neither horse could ever forget came to an end. Rosehoof stayed in the cave, sobbing to herself as her love, her mate galloped away. In motion but no less in emotion, Ironhoof's thoughts as her hooves churned grass and soil remained attached to the memory of those days ... how her love rose and fell, and how she knew the memory would become her own mental anchor. Shoshone alone among the herd stirred from her slumber at the sound of Ironhoof's hooves. "Be strong, Iron..." the black mare whispered to the wind. "... be strong." - = [ THE END ] = -