“Gather ‘round my children, and I shall spin the tale of the Forsaken, one of hardship and trial, one of friendship and love. Sit, sit my children, and you shall hear the tale…”

And they gathered around, their ears pricked with eagerness. The Traveler only came once a year, and only told the story, once a lifetime.

“It started a long, long time ago, when horses roamed the plains, when the grasses were rich and green. A time when foals played the day long, and the stallions kept guard. All was peaceful and all was well, until he came…”

* * * * *

The stallion’s name was Storm Heart, but everyone knew and called him by Storm. He had been painted white, flecked with black, and dipped in black on his legs, muzzle and ears. His mane and tail were a swirl of white black and gray and his tail hung unhindered nearly to the ground. He stood tall, as horses went, but not too much above average. His head was always held high, and he always looked after the herd, looking every bit the leader he was.

Today he stood upon Berm Hill, the meeting place of the herd, waiting for address them, beside him stood Cloud Dancer, his lead mare.

Cloud was soft spoken and motherly, but if you did something wrong, she would be the first to let you know. She was dark gray, with a snowy mane that cascaded down her shoulder, and a tail that just touched the Earth, and swayed softly in the breeze. She watched the herd with her wide set dark eyes, making sure nothing did, or would go wrong.

“Tomorrow, we begin our journey north, to the Plains, where the grass will be green, and the sun warm on our backs.” His voice carried through the herd, strong and commanding. His herd wasn’t very large, consisting of only nine mares, and five foals.

The herd always stayed near Berm Hill at the end of Winter, to the South of it laid the valleys that were sheltered from the winter’s snow and rain.

“Tomorrow we leave, so be ready, and do not fall behind. If you fall behind, you should be left, but how could a horse desert one of its own? You would cost the herd a day’s loss, maybe more. That means we would be caught in the Flood.” A few of the older mares who had made the journey before switched their tails nervously, they knew about the Flood.

The Flood was when spring rains came and the ground on the way to the North, and the valleys they had stayed in became soggy and wet, sometimes deep enough to sink a hoof into. This was dangerous enough, for if your hooves never dried, there was a good chance of getting a disease, or rot, as well as the fact that it was harder to move in the swampy ground and enemies would be hungry from winter. But once the Flood was over, Summer would begin, and they could live as carefree as always.

Storm dismissed the herd with a nod of his crested head and a snort. He turned to Cloud as the others left, a question in his eye. “Will she be ready?”

Cloud’s daughter Zaphi had been born not even ten days ago, and was a runt, but Storm had a soft spot for her, because she was his daughter as well. Of course all the foals were his sons and daughters, but the foal of the lead mare he always held a spot for.

“I think so,” Cloud responded, calling her daughter from amidst the foals. “See for yourself.”

Zaphi turned upon hearing her name, and trotted over to her mother, leaving the foals who were playing tag. She politely bowed her head to Storm. Her velvety brown coat shone dully in the winter sun, set off by the white star in the middle of her forehead. Her eyes seemed especially bright as she asked Cloud, “When are we leaving?” She quivered with eagerness. She had heard of the great fields on which they spent the summer, and she was ready to see them.

“Soon,” Her mother answered, nuzzling her daughter. Zaphi’s head reached just over halfway to Cloud’s withers, and Cloud wasn’t that tall of a horse.

“Go play little one,” Storm told her, nuzzling her as well, with a soft look in his eyes. “I need to speak with your mother.”

“Yes Storm,” the foal responded, bobbing her head to him before spinning around and gamboling back to the other foals, picking out her best friends, a bright gold colored chestnut named Sunburst, and a reddish chestnut named Crisp.

“So, what do you think…?” Cloud’s eyes had become worried again as she turned to Storm after watching her daughter leave.

“I think she will do fine. She spunky, and won’t give up or be beaten. She’ll make it.” He looked at Cloud. “Even if she’s not that big, that doesn’t matter, neither are you, and look how you turned out.” He barely avoided Cloud’s playful snap at his neck. He grinned, and rubbed his face against hers, before turning to trot off, to find his place to stand sentential to the oncoming night.

The next day, at dawn-break, Cloud made her rounds to the other horses, nudging them awake and telling them it was time to go. Soon, they had gathered in the appropriate group, foals in the middle, Cloud leading and Storm circling them the whole time, making sure no one ran off, or strayed behind. They set off due north at a trot.

Days passed, and no one fell behind, more days passed, and still no one fell behind. Storm was relieved; it seemed this year would be an easy migration to the Plains.

One evening however, proved this wrong. Storm’s trumpet of warning sounded out, and the mares huddled together as he circled them, eyes watchful.

Cloud saw him first, coming with the setting sun to his back, more perfect than a picture. He was pitch black, so dark he seemed to be made of shadow, and did indeed seem to disappear when he crossed through one. About twenty feet away, he slid to a stop, and reared up on his hind legs, striking the air with his hooves. It was a magnificent sight, his black mane caught by a sudden wind and blown back from his sculptured face, his chiseled body glistening with sweat, as if he had traveled a long way to get here. Muscles rippled beneath his coat as his hooves hit the ground with a thud. He held his head high, the tallest horse they had ever seen, beating Storm by hands. His wild dark eyes calmed a little as he surveyed the herd, snorting his approval.

“I have come, not in peace, yet not to fight. I want nothing, yet ask something.” The stranger’s voice was low and soft, yet powerful as the Earth itself, carried by the wind, with a strange accent of another land.

“I come from afar, of places yet undiscovered, and of things yet unknown. The Summer will not come, the winter will not abate, follow me to a place, safe from the forces of nature, where you may stay in safety and peace. With grass, rich and sweeter than you have ever tasted in your life, water, clear as the sky on Midsummer’s day and a life that will not die until you leave the haven. You will only grow older, but not weaker.” His ears flickered, and stood at attention, and he lowered his head a little on his sinuous neck, and his voice lowered a notch, as if warning them, “If you do not come, you shall surely die. So follow, follow and live.” He raised his head back to its height, staring at the herd.

“You do not come in peace, or wish to fight, but you want us to follow you, and trust you?” Storm’s asked incredulously. “How do I know it is not a trap?”

“You will have to trust, and use your instincts and most of all, do what is best for your herd. I was sent by those I will not name, but you know who they are, do not deny it.” He snorted, almost agitatedly, “Now think. I will give you the night.”

Cloud ventured forth, her neck arched in authority, her small ears turned back, yet not challenging, merely defending her own rights. “May I ask who you are, what is your name, and most of all, why did you come here? Why did you pick this herd?”

The horse turned his great head toward the smaller mare. “I will not tell you who I am, only he can answer such.” He shoved his nose in the direction of Storm, who stood staring at the ground in deep contemplation. “You may call me…Ivory. My real name is too long and hard to pronoun-“

“You can’t be!” Storm’s voice cut him off, as he stepped toward them, ears halfway back, head arched again. “How could you be him? It’s, it’s…impossible!” His eyes were wide, touched with white. Cloud had never seen him that frightened before. Usually Storm was known for his composure.

“But you must understand.” The black stallion said calmly, watching Storm. “I was forsaken from my home, to get you.” His voice was solemn.

“Storm, please tell me, I don’t understand…He’s who?” Cloud was nervous, when Storm showed nervousness, something was defiantly wrong.

Storm turned to Cloud, his eyes growing calmer, yet there was still something wrong, something she couldn’t detect. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, but only a few know, are allowed to know. I don’t even know if I have the right to tell you.” He lowered his head, looking into her eyes, pleading with her. “Please understand.”

The black stallion stood watching them for a moment, pity in his fathomless eyes. “You must tell her. She must understand – you must tell everyone.” He turned his head toward the herd, who were inching closer together with wide fearful eyes.

Storm called to the herd, “Step close, he will not harm us. You must hear what I have to say.”

The herd crept close to Cloud, listening intently and watching Storm as he began to speak.
“Forsaken from Earth
By one’s unknown
Black as night
A name like bone
Salvation is he
Follow him you must
Summer will come
Depending on trust
Then shall return
To places long gone
Followed by one
Blessed as his own.”

Storm finished, and bowed his head, and the silence was overwhelming and pressed in on their ears as they tried to comprehend. Time passed, before Storm raised his head again, his proud eyes defeated, and he looked to the other stallion. “I am no longer worthy of the leadership of this herd. I forfeit it to you.” Storm could tell this stallion was more of a leader than he would ever be, or become. There was no point trying to compete against him.

“No! Do not give it up! Where is your spirit? Where is your brain? Do you not realize what it means? I will leave here, you will have to stay, or none shall survive after I go!” The great stallion’s eyes were wide with anger, and his hoof struck the ground, leaving an imprint. His ears lay on his head as his eyes pierced Storm’s, neither dropping, nor being allowed to drop their gaze.

Finally, Storm blinked, and tossed his multi-colored mane. There was a new edge on his voice as he spoke. “I see. I will stay, I feel it now. We will go, together, following you, and we will live!” He rose on his hinds, hitting the ground with force that made the muscles in his shoulder shake on impact. Anybody who disagreed would leave now.

Cloud bowed her head, immediately followed by Zaphi, and the herd, one by one, bowing their heads to the two stallions, followed last by Storm, who bowed his proud head to the black stallion.

“Then we start tomorrow.” He said, “It would please me if you would join me on watch, so we can talk.” The black looked to Storm, and they walked alone to the top of a small incline, to watch the herd.

Cloud turned to the herd, and was immediately bombarded by questions.

“Where are we going?” asked a dark gray named Moonglow.

“It is safe?” questioned Sky, who had one blue, one brown eye.

“I don’t know where we are going, but I do know it is safe, Storm wouldn’t lead us wrong. I don’t know how or why, but we have to go, or we will die.” Cloud answered softly, looking over the herd for her daughter. “We are going to stay here tonight, so stay near, and gather strength. I think it will be a long journey.”

* * * * *

The weather seemed to be working backwards. Instead of getting warmer, it got colder and colder, and the wind blew strong.

They traveled on for days, with the winds blowing and the sun rarely ever showing from behind the clouds. The horses grew thin and lethargic, their coats dull and their eyes lifeless. The foals were weak and hungry, mere bones inside a raggedy coat. The only one who didn’t seem to tire was Ivory. He didn’t seem to loose weight, his coat never lost its shine, and he never got hungry. He made them trot endlessly, day after day after day.

Soon, it started to snow, and some of the horses would stop, complaining that they could not go on.



“You must go on,” Ivory would tell them, “You must.” At the look in his eyes, they would slowly pick up their feet and drag onwards. The snow grew worse, turning into a blizzard and the herd has to slow to a walk to make their way single file behind Ivory to get through it. That night, they stayed in a thicket of dead trees that blocked the wind somewhat.

Cloud slowly made her way up to Ivory, a question on her mind. “How much longer do we have to go on? They are about to die, there is no more food. My own daughter can barely stand on her own feet. How do you expect us to live? Did you bring us here to die?” Her whispered voice caught as she watched Ivory’s dark eyes for a sign, anything.

“I have only brought you this far. If you think I brought you to die, stay here, if you wish to live, follow me. We are almost there.” He turned, looking at the herd. “Most of them will live, but is not I that will kill them. It is there own spirit and mind. They don’t think they will make it, they don’t try. They kill themselves.” He looked toward the ground, as if ashamed he had to bring them through it. “I am sorry…I didn’t wish for you to know that.” He looked at her, his dark eyes soft, and reached out to nuzzle her, drawing back quickly as Storm came up.

Storm did not look the leader he once had. His mane and tail were nearly frozen in place, and icicles hung from him. His ribs showed with every breath from lack of food. His voice was hoarse as he spoke. “How do you mean for us to carry on like this? We are not immortal like you. I will not watch my herd die!” He sounded a bit angry, but had no energy in his body to put the anger forth.

“You shall live, do not worry. We shall be there soon. The night is near, and we need sleep.” Ivory turned away, after looking at Storm. If he would have been human, his face would have shown pity, perhaps, like a human biting their lips unsurely.

Cloud watched this, before turning back to the herd, calling her daughter to her. Pressing her close, she prayed to whom ever would listen, hoping they could stay warm enough for this one night.

They traveled for another day, and when the sun had almost reached the Earth, a long shadow stretched out before them, as the sun had finally broken through the cloud mass. A great black rock seemed to rise straight up from the face of the Earth before them.

“We are here. We cannot enter until morning. We will stay here.” Ivory turned to Storm. “Make sure none go any nearer.” He trotted off toward the formation, the snow seemingly not hindering him at all as he disappeared in its shadows.

“Everyone stay close, and rest.” Storm placed himself between the herd and the rock, watching and waiting.

“Are you sure this is right?” Cloud came up next to Storm, eyeing the rock.

“How can it not be?” Was the only reply he gave, his eyes not leaving the gray mass in the distance.

Zaphi came and pressed close to her mother side. None of the foals strayed far from their mother’s side.

It wasn’t until night that the black stallion reappeared. He spoke with Storm, then turned and spoke to the herd. “This is your last night out here. Tomorrow you will be safe inside, but the only way to get through the night, is to believe. If you just think you are going to get through it because everyone else does, you are wrong. You will be tested by the elements, and only the strong will survive.” He turned his perfect black head toward the rock, and said, “It will be done!” Then, he disappeared.

As suddenly as he had left, the temperature dropped, the wind howled, and the snow swept the land, making it white. Sky was indistinguishable from land. All the horses instinctively grouped together, with the foals near the center. The snow grew, piling up to their bellies, and then over their backs.

“Momma?” Cloud heard Zaphi’s muffled voice. “I’m scared…”

Cloud’s heart broke, knowing she couldn’t do anything for her daughter. “Be strong…be strong…” She said, wondering if Zaphi could even hear her in the world of white.

Cloud could hear horses struggling to breathe, some struggling to move. Cloud herself just stood their, believing she could survive. Hoping everyone would survive.

* * * * *

Sometime later, Cloud opened her eyes. It was hard though, they had almost frozen shut. She tried to flick her ears and found them iced in place. Ice cracked as she attempted to shake her head, and it fell off nearly in sheets around her neck. Only then did she realize she was buried, but above her the wind had stopped, and the sun was shining. Opening and closing her jaw, she called for Zaphi, and Storm, and the herd, but got no answer.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” She called, nearly frantic. She looked left, and tried to move her body, but there was so much snow she couldn’t move.

Suddenly there was a flurry of snow to her left, and a head popped out of the snow. It was Storm. “Cloud?” he called looking around.

“Over here!” She watched him climb out on top of the snow, before trying it herself. It was hard, for his limbs were frozen, and her muscles didn’t want to work. Soon though, she was out, stretching her legs on the surprisingly solid snow, pawing a few spots, looking for the others.

Soon other heads were coming up, and horses were levering themselves to the top, helping the foals and weaker ones. Sky was barely visible against the white background, and Moonglow looked like her shadow.

Pawing one spot, Cloud struck something soft. Pulling the snow away from it with her hooves as best she could, she uncovered a dark brown head. It was one of the mares, Mistletoe. “Mistletoe?” She called to the mare. The horse didn’t reply. She continued to dig at the snow and found the mare was dead. Suffocated.

Cloud turned at the sound of a soft whimper, “Mommy?” Mistletoe’s sorrel foal stood there, mane and tail stuck out at odd angles frozen in place. “Momma?” The cry came again, wrenching at Cloud’s heart. “Cloud? Where’s my momma?” She grew frantic, checking all the mares for her mother.

“Poppy…oh Poppy, come here…” Cloud called to the foal, “Your mother died…” Cloud drew the shaking foal close, watching the tears freeze on the red brown cheeks. She drew a warm soothing tongue over the foal’s tears, and nuzzled her. “Poppy, I’m sorry…”

“Mom?” Cloud heard another voice, shaking her out of her stupor.

“Zaphi?” Cloud raised her head, looking around. Suddenly, a dark brown head popped out of the snow. She watched with joy as the foal pulled herself out and stood shakily on her legs.

Soon the whole herd was standing there except for Mistletoe, whom they had buried back up.

“You that have survived, follow me. Or stay, for the next storm.” Ivory suddenly appeared there, black against the white of the snow.

Storm led the way into the rock hold, and they went through a weaving passageway, the ice and snow melting from their bodies in a puddle on the ground. Ivory stood before them, to address them for the last time.

“Do not leave here until I come back. You may go as far in as you wish, more will be coming. Until I return, remember me, and always, always remember this winter. I will lead you through them, just follow me.” He turned, and then stopped. “I will need one to be the Life, to remember, and it was chosen to be you.” He turned sharply to face Zaphi, and his breath misted out over her, settling on her like a cloak before fading away.

The foal shivered and said, “It will be done.”

* * * * *

“He then turned, and took off into the sky, lastly being seen as eleven stars walking across the sky every winter. When he comes, so do the snows, and when he leaves, you know it will be summer.”

The older mare looked as if she had just relived the whole story, though it had happened ages ago. “And that is how we came to be here, in this rock hold. When he come back, we will go back to the Outside.” The Traveler bowed her head. “The story has been spun, and you may go my children.”

The foals were leaving, but one stayed behind, shyly raising his head. “Can I ask you something Traveler?”

“Go ahead my child.” The mare said, her brown eyes watching the foal.

“What is your real name?” The foal in took his breath almost as if it were a sin to ask.

The Traveler smiled, “My name is Zaphi.” She said simply.

“Really?” The foal replied, awestruck.

“Yes, and I am still waiting.”

The foal turned, and was walking away, when there was a thundering. They froze, as from the middle of the setting sun, a black stallion appeared, too perfect to be real. His voice was low and soft, yet powerful as the Earth itself.

“Zaphi! I have come!” The Traveler raised her head suddenly, and on young legs, propelled herself to his side.

Nuzzling his neck, the Traveler smiled, “I have been waiting…”

Together the two led the way through the entrance into the Outside, followed by the original herd, and the rest of the horses.

As soon as they cleared the shadow of the rock, Zaphi heard a horse sniff. Turning she saw Poppyseed crying, her eyes held by something beyond them.

Zaphi turned again, and her own breath caught. There, in the middle of the field, a spot had been cleared, and a great tree rose, embraced in its branches many clumps of mistletoe. More that had fallen lay on the ground like a red carpet.

“We have returned to places long gone…” Zaphi quoted the prophecy.

“You have survived the Great Freeze. The Earth will be warm again, and I am no longer Forsaken. I can return to my home.” The great ebony stallion suddenly took off, gaining speed, until he lifted off into the stars and vanished.

Zaphi, suddenly made an odd noise in her throat, of longing and want, and took off after him, somehow herself, lifting into the endless night sky.

* * * * *

That night, as the foals stood close to their mothers, one looked up to the stars, eyes curious. A mare ambled over to him, a grown mare, but aged more than she looked. Quietly, she nudged him, and whispered, “You see him? The stallion? Look behind him, Zaphi’s chasing him, and always will be, till he turns the season to Summer, and then Winter, and will be for all eternity.”

The foal watched, the stars sparkle, seemingly alive, as the older mare slowly slipped away finally resting amid the mistletoe covered tree. She fell to her knees, and slowly rolled to her side with a long contained sigh that seemed to bring peace upon the world as her head gently rested amid a fallen patch of mistletoe, and her breathing slowed, then stopped, and she rested. A single flower of the plant, its blood red hue bright against the flaxen mane where is nestled.