First encounter
The smelting sun beats down on the dying, dusty land and plumes of dirt and hair levitate, reaching to the heavens in the parched mid-day air. I peer into the pen full of mares just rounded up from the reservation. Examining their actions; temper, how they socialize, any limpness, coloration, eye color, and etc. to see which one catches my judging eye. One particular mare stands out like a white thumb; She is eating alone at a pile of tan hay that obtains no nutrients once or ever. I watch her because why is she eating alone? A younger yearling comes over to the pile where the grullo mare is eating. The mare pins back her ears flat against her head and slightly lifts her upper lip. The yearling doesn't move, not noticing the warning the grullo mare signaled to the yearling. With apathy, the grullo mare turns around to strike out her back leg that hits the yearling in the rib cage. I scream of pain carries out in the wind and the yearling falls earthbound. The performance is shaded with gliding clouds and all is quiet, only the sound of whistling gusts of wind and thumping heart beats. The yearling scrambles up in a rushed motion and makes way for safety behind some older mares. The grullo snorts and returns to her keep of hay without taking a bite, just starring around the perimeter of the enclosure that conceals her from the dry rolling hills and steep cliffs carved from the river that flows through the land with great power. Panic sprouts in her eyes and she hollers. Feet are in a panic as all of the mares in the pen start to become uneasy. Is she the mare that scouts for supple grass and crystal water to replenish off of for the whole herd? The rangers see the commotion and rope the mare around the neck. Not a single bit of fight erupts from the mare, her eyes relaxed and nostrils still flaring from the bit of commotion she created. I run over to the side of the pen they have her caught at. She looks at me, I look at her. The grullo mare lifts her head in my direction and snorts. I giggle a bit and approach her with my hand sticking out for the mare to smell. The mare's nose was a pink as roses and as soft as velvet. I reach out to her shoulder, and she steps back a bit and looks at me once more. I try one more time and I pet her hot brown coat. The mare lets go of her tight muscles and lets out a deep breath.
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