Face Your Fear
Tyke gulped down his last mouthful of water and looked up, staring across the swiftly-flowing river. His best friend, Chief, was swimming about 40 yards downstream, splashing one of the foals, who shrieked and promptly scrambled out of the water with a snort. Tyke shook his head. His full name was actually Trouble Flash, but since he was undersized for his two-and-a-half years, everyone just called him Tyke. He hated the nickname, but it clung to him like burrs on his tail did whenever he went climbing through thickets.
The colt was a bay Morgan with a single white foot and a small star on his forehead. He was the smallest colt in the entire herd, something that drove him absolutely crazy. Chief, who at three years thought himself wise and awesome, was a proud Andalusian whose white coat and jumping talents had stolen the heart of pretty much every filly around.
“Tyke! Get over here and watch this!” Chief had climbed onto the bank and moved farther down to a narrower part of the river. The Morgan obligingly trotted over to watch Chief show off (as usual). He stopped several feet away so that Chief would have plenty of room.
“I’m gonna make it!” Chief whinnied excitedly. Tyke glanced over at the other side; three fillies, including Serafina, the chestnut Arabian he had a huge crush on, giggled in excitement to watch Chief make the daring leap. Tyke forced himself to not roll his eyes.
Chief ostentatiously backed up a dozen yards to give himself plenty of running room. Then he tore forward, kicking up the grass, and soared over the river, landing without a stumble or any loss of balance. The fillies laughed appreciatively and flocked around Chief, who nodded and grinned in glee.
Tyke sighed and turned away towards the pasture. For once, he didn’t want to watch his best friend earn the adoration of every girl horse under the age of five. Especially since Chief didn’t know about his crush. He’d never hear the end of it if his rambunctious friend caught hold of that fact. The colt chewed on some grass mechanically and thought back to when he’d first seen Serafina.
“Mom? Who are those horses?” a young Tyke asked nervously. The nine-month-old foal stood close to his mother, who watched cautiously as two new horses galloped up. Both were panting and sweaty, covered in muck and scratches. Both were Arabian; one was an exhausted stallion who slowed abruptly and stood with his head drooping, trying to get his breath back. But the other was an eight-month-old girl who still held her head high even as she gasped for breath. Tyke felt his heart leap in his chest and stared.
The stallion spoke first. “We are escapees from the humans. We’ve heard that your herd accepts those who seek protection from the two-leggeds. Please, may my daughter and I join? I am Sunrise Dune, but you can call me Dune, and my daughter is Serafina.”
The horse whom they spoke to was Tyke’s father, Nox Aeturnus, a black Morgan who’d established himself as the best cougar fighter for miles around and who led the herd wisely. He gazed at the newcomers carefully, and finally nodded his consent. They breathed thanks and walked slowly to a small stream, where they drank for what seemed like forever.
Tyke shook himself out of his stare and hesitantly walked over to the filly, who raised her head at his approaching hoof beats. The male foal bent his head in greeting.
“Hi…um…I’m Tyke.” He hadn’t grown to hate his nickname yet.
Serafina gave him a slow smile. “Nice to meet you. I’m glad we made it here. I’m Serafina.”
“So…so you’re an Arabian?” Tyke stuttered.
Serafina nodded. “Yeah…but it’s not something that makes me special.”
Tyke felt himself swoon. In spite of the dirt and sweat in her coat, she was beyond pretty and wasn’t stuck up! He gave a huge grin and started to talk to her, telling her everything he could think of…
“TYKE! EARTH TO TYKE!” a loud voice shattered through his peaceful daydream. He jerked awake, bits of grass falling from his mouth. Chief was standing next to him, watching him impatiently.
“What’s wrong?” the bay asked the white.
“Biweekly meeting, genius,” the Andalusian replied hurriedly. “You’re gonna be late to your own dad’s meeting if you don’t hurry up!” He cantered away and Tyke followed him, mind still trying to drift back to that memory. But he had no more time to think. Nox was calling the herd together, and as the black Morgan stood proud and tall on the hill, Tyke wrenched his wandering thoughts to the business at hand.
First was the usual roll call, making sure nobody had fallen off a cliff or vanished into thin air. There was a tense moment where one of the youngest foals was missing, but she was found chasing a butterfly around the river. So, crisis averted, they continued. Nox was planning to move the herd again; it never would do to stay in the same place for more than two weeks at a time. Their present spot was nice, but Nox had sent out scouts to find another decent place, and they’d returned with news of a perfect meadow some miles east.
“We’ll move in two days. Mares, please keep an eye on your fillies, colts, and foals. Stallions, keep an eye on the mares. And you children, kindly don’t harass your mothers. Stay close to them. After we’ve resettled, we’ll relax the rules, but for now, you need to keep in sight at all times.”
A collective groaning arose from the younger horses, but their mothers breathed more easily. Win some, lose some, Tyke thought to himself as he trotted after his mother, who was guaranteed to keep him within two feet at all times for the time being. Oy.
The day of the move, the herd was busily gathering together. Every single horse had to be accounted for before they could leave. Finally, after much whinnying and fussing and general annoyance, the group cantered off, passing through the thicket and soon surrounding themselves in forest. The trees hemmed them in from all sides; Tyke hated this environment. He loved open, rolling hills with a few bushes and plenty of ponds to swim in. Like his old home. He sighed as he robotically walked and trotted through the forest.
“Tyke, please slow down! You’re wearing me out!” his mother laughed as she chased after her five-month-old son, who quickly halted and stood panting. He was getting much better at this whole “gallop” thing but couldn’t keep it up for long distances. His mother nuzzled him affectionately and led him to the pond for a drink.
Tyke drank thirstily and then moved over to stand by Dewpoint, his twin sister, a beautiful little gray foal who was his greatest friend and who understood him completely. They laughed and cried at the same things and loved to race each other across the smooth fields, trying to reach that one lone tree first.
“Ready to race again?” Dewpoint asked happily. Her brother couldn’t resist, even though he was already a bit tired.
“Never aren’t!” he replied cheerfully. They walked quickly to the tree and marked where they would turn and come back. Then, they started. Their spindly but long legs ate at the distance, but soon they were both gasping for breath. They stubbornly kept running, straining to beat each other, until Dewpoint managed to touch the tree a second before Tyke.
“I won! I won! I won!” she laughed as she tried to catch her breath.
“Whatever,” Tyke retorted. “I’ll win next time!”
“Suuuuure…” his sister snorted.
Suddenly, just as they were all set to bicker, a shrill call caught them by surprise. Their mother came galloping up the hill, sweat pouring off her.
“Dewpoint! Tyke! RUN! COUGARS!”
The foals knew exactly what that meant. They turned on their heels and bolted, racing this time not for fun, but for their life.
It wasn’t enough.
A snarling, hissing beast with a pronounced tear in its right ear came plunging across the grass. Tyke could hear the cries of the other horses as they fled from its tearing claws. It bounded effortlessly after the two foals as they struggled to increase their speed.
“MOMMY! TYKE! HELP ME!” Dewpoint screamed as she started to fall behind. Then, just as her mother was swerving to turn, Dewpoint tripped…whether over a stick or stone, it didn’t matter. But she fell, and a sharp crack split the air as one of her legs broke. The cougar gave a triumphant snarl and leaped onto her. Tyke screamed and tried to go back, but his mother pushed him out of the way and, frantically telling him to keep running, galloped toward her fallen daughter. With tears in his eyes, Tyke ran, finally reaching the herd’s designated safe place.
His sister never came.
“MARES! RUN! FOALS, GET OUT OF HERE! FOLLOW YOUR MOTHERS!” the deep voice of Nox cut through Tyke’s painful memories. He snapped his head up.
Pure chaos as foals cried for their mothers, mothers called to their foals, and tan beasts with claws and fangs flitted through the trees, trying to cut off one or two of the younger, more vulnerable horses. As Tyke whipped around, disorientated and panicking, he saw Chief fighting off one cougar while two others attacked one of the stallions. Unexpectedly, a familiar voice screamed.
“SOMEONE HELP!” Serafina was backed into a corner, trapped against a particularly thick clump of trees and rocks. Two of the cougars faced her, snarling in enjoyment. A feast was at hand.
But not if Tyke had anything to say about it.
He plunged towards the crouching cougars, who were tensed and ready to spring at Serafina. But a hard hoof sent one of them flying. Another stallion chased it off.
Tyke reared and shrieked, “NO!! NOT AGAIN! NOT THIS TIME!!” He kicked at the remaining cougar…
…that had a distinct tear in its right ear.
Hatred, along with grief, filled the colt, and he lashed again, cracking his hoof against the cougar’s skull. The deadly cat gave a cry of pain, hit a tree, and sunk to the soft leaves. There was no movement. It was dead.
“Wow! I can’t believe you just killed that cougar, Tyke!” Chief exclaimed, galloping up to the panting colt and filly.
“I can’t believe it either, Chief!” the Morgan breathed, trying to get his turmoil-stricken emotions under control. His Andalusian friend laughed and gave him a friendly nudge, then sped off to check on the rest of the herd. Thankfully, nobody had been hurt and the stallions had driven the rest of the cats off. The mares and foals nervously trotted back, and everyone gathered around Tyke, who’d managed to kill the cougar, the beast who’d brought him so much pain before. Serafina gazed at him with grateful eyes and shyly nuzzled him. He closed his eyes and smiled.
Dewpoint? I won.
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