The Black-and-White Thunderbolt

[Guest]

Tama: I stand proudly at the end of the ledge and look down at the land I have lived on my entire life. The red paint that used to mark my black and white body as a sign of my loyalty to the Indian village of Painted Ledge was now gone along with the village, but I still proudly bare the two eagle feathers that where placed in my mane when I became a warrior horse. I smile sadly at the memories and rear up neighing loudly then pirouette and canter back into the dark forest. I silently race through the forest, expertly dodging trees and leaping over fallen logs. I fly down the mountain to the base of the cliff, my long powerful legs propelling me forward even though it appeared as thou I never touched the ground as I ran. I slid to a smooth stop when I reach the bottom and pause to look around once before I begin trotting to the small pond that rested under the ledge.

[Guest]

Tama: I lower my head to the water and take a quick drink before raising my large black head and look around, my light amber eyes searching the surrounding greenery for a sign of danger. I lower my head back to the water after determining there was no danger and quickly drink my fill. I turn away from the water and sign sadly as I return to the forest, but continue to walk with my head held high proudly. It had been two years since the slaughter of the village and two years since I had seen another horse. It was very unlikely that I was the only horse in the land, but unlike the other horses that had escaped who had drifted to the outer edges of the land, I had chosen to stay in the heart of the land, never traveling to far from the ruins of the village. While I was not the only horse to escape, I was the only warrior horse that had escaped death. The untrained horses had immediately fled upon sensing danger, but the warrior horses had loyally stayed and fought to the death with their riders. I would have suffered the same fate had I gotten there sooner, and was guilty I did not.