by Chen Jiatong
When they reached the stream, Dilah too had a drink of water. As he was about to leave, following Ankel farther downstream, an unusual detail caught his eye: In the distance, there was a white horse tied to a cypress tree.
As Ankel and Dilah drew closer, the fox noticed how the young horse was standing quietly with her head bowed, tears staining her face.
She was white all over except for black rings around her hooves. A pearl-colored mane hung neatly from her neck. Her large, weary eyes were welling up with tears. The horse turned away when she noticed Dilah, clearly not wanting them to see her crying.
“What’s wrong?” Dilah asked gently.
“None of your business!” the horse snapped.
“But why are you crying?”
“I …” she started, but shook her head. “It’s too embarrassing.”
“If you don’t want to say, then we can’t help you. We’ll leave you to it,” Dilah said. “Sorry to disturb you. Come on, Ankel.” They started to walk away.
“You could help me?” the horse said.
Ankel and Dilah nodded, turning around. “We can try!” said Ankel.
She sighed loudly. “I’ll tell you, then. I—I was caught by humans …” She was so worked up, it was hard for her to talk. “Zelvia will never forgive me.”
“Who’s Zelvia? Wait, sorry—take your time and start from the beginning. What happened?” Dilah asked carefully.
The horse let out a huge sigh. “Two days ago, my herd was on the move in the Kvik Valley. We were ambushed and surrounded by humans, who wanted to catch some wild horses and tame them. It was total chaos—people on horseback came out of nowhere and started chasing us. Everyone bolted away. The horse behind me knocked me over. As I struggled to get up, all my herd ran off, leaving me behind. A man threw a rope around my neck, and they brought me here.”
Dilah remembered what Ankel had told him about how human civilizations were founded on enslaving animals. “Were you the only one caught?” he asked.
“No, it was me and Otis. He’s too old to run.”
“The young and old are always the target of predators.” Ankel shook his head.
“Where is he now? Is he tied up too?” Dilah asked.
“No. They—they killed him for meat when they realized he was useless.” The young horse burst into tears again.
Dilah swallowed, feeling a lump in his own throat. Another innocent life had been taken by humans.
“I don’t know what they’re going to do to me next. Sometimes I wish they’d just put me out of my misery. Maybe I’m better off dead,” the young horse said grimly.
“Why?” Dilah asked, confused. “If we help you escape, you can run back to your herd, can’t you?”
“No, that’s the thing …” The horse glanced down at her hooves, her voice so low that Dilah could barely hear it. “They put shoes on me—a symbol of shame. My herd will never accept me now.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t get it.” Ankel frowned. “Why are horseshoes so bad?”
“In this world, there are two kinds of horses: domesticated and wild—like me. We’re the same species, but we’re from two different clans. We might look the same on the outside, but inside we’re different. They’re tame and weak, while we’re strong and independent. Nothing can hold us down,” the horse said solemnly, raising her head. “We despise them.”
“Because they serve humans?” Ankel asked.
“Mm-hmm. As soon as a shoe is nailed to a wild horse’s hoof, it means she’s lost her soul. It’s a mark of slavery to humans, a crime that can’t ever be scrubbed away. From then on, all wild horses will shun you. Even if you break free, the best you can hope for is to wander alone in the mountains.” The horse dug her hooves into the ground. “Zelvia is the leader of the wild horses. He hates humans, and hates horses enslaved by humans even more. He’ll never forgive me, that’s for sure.”
“I see …” Dilah said, deep in thought.
“Anyway, can you help me break this rope? I might not be able to go home, but at least I can wander on my own,” the horse said glumly.
“Don’t give up so easily,” Dilah said. “You should go back to the horses, explain the situation to them, and fight for your right to stay.”
“It’s a waste of time. Zelvia won’t listen to me.”
“In that case, maybe he’ll listen to us,” Ankel offered.
“I don’t want to get you involved. It could be dangerous for you both.”
“If there’s even the slightest glimmer of hope, we should try,” Dilah said, cocking his head. “Don’t you think?”
“Hope? Is there really a glimmer of hope?”
“My friend, there always is,” Dilah said, smiling.
Ankel stood beneath the horse’s neck, his two little paws clutching the rope, and bit down with his sharp front teeth. Before long, he had gnawed through it, and the frayed end fell to the ground, as stiff as a dead snake. The horse reared up and neighed with joy, then took off like a flash of lightning, kicking up dust. Dilah and Ankel followed.
“What’s your name?” Dilah called out.
“Kassel, a free galloper of the prairie. You guys?”
“I’m Dilah, and this is Ankel,” Dilah panted, the moonstone thumping against his chest.
“Hey! Do you think you could slow down? I’m already … running … as fast as … I can!” Ankel gasped, his short limbs flying off the ground as he lagged behind the others.
Kassel slowed just enough for the others to keep up, and they ran for hours, the scenery gradually changing. The green land grew sparser, replaced by chunks of rocks. Finally, Kassel slowed to a stop. Her breathing quickly returned to normal. A few moments later, Dilah and Ankel dropped to the ground beside her, panting heavily. Dilah stuck his tongue out, trying to cool down, while Ankel slumped on his back, his chest heaving.
“I’m home! This is the Kvik Valley,” Kassel said.
“This place is beautiful!” Dilah said between gulping breaths. And it was: The air was hot and dry, the bare yellow earth was scorched by the sun, and endless mountain peaks stabbed the azure sky.
“What do you eat?” Ankel managed. “There’s nothing here!” Dilah gazed around at the rocky terrain. He was right, the vegetation was sparse.
“It’s not ideal,” said Kassel, shaking out her mane, “but generally, humans don’t come here, so we’re safe.”
“Where is your herd?” Dilah asked.
“Usually over that ridge, this time of day,” Kassel said. “Come with me.”
As they climbed up the slope, Dilah heard a deep rumble and the earth shook beneath his paws. The sound grew and grew until, as they reached the ridge, a haze billowed from the valley below. Scores of wild horses galloped in the sunlight—white, black, golden, brown—there were at least forty or fifty. Dust flew up around them in a raging tempest and Dilah couldn’t imagine anything standing in their way.
Dilah and Ankel heard a loud peal behind them that echoed the voices of the wild horses. They glanced back and saw Kassel standing on her hind legs, her two front legs raised high in the air, neck outstretched toward the sky. Her long, smooth tail swished over them as she jumped. Kassel barreled down the mountain at an impossible speed, heading for the herd. The other horses stopped when they noticed her speeding toward them. They slowly approached, eyes fixed on the young mare.
Dilah and Ankel hung back as a jet-black horse stepped to the front and stared at Kassel without speaking. The horse’s dark coat gleamed in the sun. He had a powerful build—broad chest, sturdy legs—and looked extremely strong. In comparison, Kassel was slight, and Dilah felt suddenly afraid for his new friend. He hoped they had done the right thing in encouraging her to return.
“Kassel?” whispered a yellow horse farther back in the herd, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.
“Welcome home, child,” an older, brownish-red horse whinnied, smiling.
“Shameless traitor!” a white horse snarled, kicking furiously at the
ground and glaring at Kassel.
The rest of the herd murmured to one another in surprise and confusion. A few stamped their hooves restlessly, as if uncomfortable, while others eyed Kassel with obvious contempt.
Kassel silently walked up to the black horse, her head lowered in a gesture of submission. Without looking up, she said, “Zelvia, I’m back and I hope—”
“Did your new master ask you to give me a message?” The strong black horse had finally opened his mouth, his tone cold and mocking. A few of the other horses laughed cruelly.
“No. Please don’t say that … I—”
Zelvia interrupted a second time. “How come Otis didn’t come with you?”
“He’s … he’s dead. The humans killed him.” Kassel hung her head.
“You didn’t die with him?” a different brownish-red horse behind Zelvia drawled, squinting at Kassel. The horse had long, thin legs, a muscular body, and a proud air. “You chose enslavement instead?”
“Darcy’s right. It would’ve been better if you’d died too.” Zelvia stared at Kassel, his eyes filled with disgust.
“Please let me explain—”
“Explain how you became a slave to humans?” Darcy cut her off, sneering.
“I was knocked over. The humans on horseback caught up, captured me, and tied me up against my will. I only escaped today. Those are the facts!” Kassel said.
“Listen to this! Humans on horseback caught up with you?” Darcy drawled, amusement in his voice. A few of the horses around him sniggered. “The idea that a wild horse could unwillingly be captured by humans riding enslaved beasts is preposterous. You must have surrendered. You’re a disgrace to wild horses.”
Dilah and Ankel exchanged a glance, nodded in silent agreement, and hurried down from the ridge where they’d been watching. Zelvia’s eyes shifted as he noticed the unusual pair of friends, and the other horses followed his gaze. A few of the horses sniggered as the bedraggled white fox and dusty weasel sat down on either side of Kassel.
“Are these your reinforcements, traitor?” taunted Zelvia.
“They are my friends, Dilah and Ankel,” Kassel said.
“Friends? Wild horses have no friends but their own kind!”
Kassel tossed her mane—with Dilah and Ankel at her side, she seemed to have regained a little of her spirit. “They’re the ones who saved me. In my time of need, my fellow horses were nowhere to be seen. Only this fox and weasel came to my rescue. They’re my saviors.”
“Hmph! When that fox hangs you out to dry, you’ll be singing a different tune,” Darcy scoffed.
The way things are unfolding, it seems Kassel’s hope of returning to her herd is about to be dashed to pieces, Dilah thought. He stepped forward.
“Please allow me to say a few words, honorable leader of the horse clan,” Dilah said, lowering his head to Zelvia. “At the risk of sounding presumptuous, I’d like to help Kassel explain.”
“Oh? Would you be so kind as to enlighten us, then?” Zelvia mimicked Dilah’s formal tone, raising his eyebrows. Some of the other horses tittered.
Dilah held his head high, even though he felt as tiny as a mouse. His waist wasn’t even as wide as one of Zelvia’s thighs.
“As far as I can tell, it’s not Kassel’s fault that humans captured her. She had no choice in the matter. She doesn’t like humans, much less being their slave—she certainly didn’t surrender. We ran into her when we were passing by. She was so sad it just about broke our hearts. All she wants is to return to her herd. We helped cut her loose and followed her here. That’s the whole story,” Dilah explained.
Zelvia was silent for a moment, then slowly asked, “Kassel, is what the fox said true?”
Kassel nodded.
“All right, then. I’m not an unreasonable leader—I believe that you were not captured willingly. But you must still prove your innocence of the greatest crime of all. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Zelvia asked matter-of-factly. Kassel nodded reluctantly.
“Lift up your foot—now!”
Kassel slowly raised up her foot, exposing the U-shaped horseshoe to her herd.
The horses gasped in surprise and horror. The nearest to Kassel even took a few steps backward, as though afraid the shoe might burn them. Zelvia stood still, his face unchanged, his eyes narrowed. Kassel dropped her hoof to the ground.
“See, I was right,” Darcy gloated.
“How do you explain this?” Zelvia demanded.
“I …” Kassel hung her head in shame.
“I think it’s quite clear. Kassel obviously surrendered to humans. Her master gave her the mark of a slave,” Darcy said triumphantly. “You know Zelvia’s rules.”
“I had no choice. They forced the shoes on me!”
“Go. Don’t sully my domain. You may never return,” Zelvia coldly declared.
“This is my home. Please!” Kassel begged.
“Go!” Zelvia roared, the veins in his neck bulging.
“Wait! You can’t do this!” Dilah protested.
“It’s none of your business, little fox! If you keep at it, don’t blame me if you get a hoof in the face!” Zelvia warned.
“Dilah, Ankel, we should go. I don’t want you to get hurt,” Kassel said hopelessly.
“You horses!” Ankel shouted, raising his bushy tail. “Where were you when the humans were after Kassel? You ran for your lives, and no one stopped to help her! You abandoned one of your own. Now that she’s taken the trouble to come back, you’re driving her away again. She’s done nothing wrong! What’s wrong is your prejudice, your fear of humans, and your own cowardice!”
“How dare you!” Zelvia bellowed, his eyes flashing. He reared up on his hind legs, violently shook his mane and tail, and charged toward Ankel. Dilah reacted quickly, pushing his friend out of the way before the horse’s hooves came crashing down. Zelvia’s front hooves left two deep holes in the ground where Ankel had been standing.
Kassel jumped between her friends and Zelvia, shielding them with her body.
“We’re afraid of humans?” Zelvia said. “Humans would never dare to confront a wild horse with their bare hands, never! Instead, they use despicable means to sneak up on us—those filthy, arrogant, self-righteous humans!” The blood vessels in his eyes burnt a violent red. “Kassel is the one who allowed herself to be enslaved. She is no longer a wild horse; she is domesticated.” He spat out the word as if it was a curse. But the weasel drew himself up tall, unafraid even after Zelvia’s violent attack. Dilah felt his heart fill with pride for his friend.
“Domesticated horses are part of your clan, really!” Ankel argued. “They’re no different from you but for the shoes on their hooves.”
“No! That could not be further from the truth. In order to avoid predators, in order to live comfortably, in order to please their human masters, domesticated horses have sullied their own souls. They may look like us, but they’re destined from birth to become slaves to humans, working hard all their lives, carrying people and goods, remaining loyal and devoted, and what does that get them in the end? When they grow old and can no longer run, they are killed by their own masters!” Zelvia said. Whinnies of agreement broke out among the horses. His words had struck a chord. “Whether she admits it or not, her shoes show that Kassel is one of them now, and she must leave.”
Ankel shook his head. He seemed totally determined to get through to Zelvia. He placed his small hand in front of his mouth and nibbled on his claw.
Then he grew suddenly still, his ears pricked. Dilah thought he looked as if he’d had an idea. “So, um, you think that domesticated horses can’t hold a candle to wild horses?”
“Of course!” Zelvia huffed. “We’re the fastest animals in the world!”
“Since you think so, let’s have a race between you horses of noble ancestry and the ‘domesticated’ horse who has shoes nailed to her hooves,” Ankel suggested. Dilah and Kassel stared at the weasel in astonishment. Had Ankel lost his mind?
“You don’t get to make the rules! I’ve had enough. Get out of here!” Zelvia snorted.
“Are you scared?” Ankel goaded him.
Zelvia’s eyes burnt. “Fine. A race it is.” He faced Kassel. “If you win the race, you may return to our herd and your friends may leave safely, but if you lose …”
“If I lose, I’ll leave and never come back,” Kassel finished.
“You may leave, but they must pay the price for what they’ve said!” Zelvia glared at Dilah and Ankel as though he wanted to rip them to shreds. Dilah’s heart was racing, adrenaline running through his body. If Kassel lost, he and Ankel were as good as dead. He glanced across at the weasel. Ankel looked as cool as a cucumber. “Do you agree?” Zelvia asked.
“Of course,” Ankel agreed before Dilah or Kassel could say anything, “that sounds fair. I have just one requirement: The race must take place on that mountain over there—let’s make things a little harder, to reflect each horse’s true running ability.”
Dilah and Kassel gaped at him. Kassel was a young horse—how could she compete with the strong, muscular adults, especially on difficult terrain?
“Fine—it’s your funeral. Then it’s all agreed,” Zelvia said, laughing unpleasantly. “Darcy, come here. You’re the fastest of our clan. Let’s show these numbskulls just how fast we wild horses can run.”
Darcy puffed out his chest and stepped forward.
“It’s not a fair race! Kassel is just a child—she’s no match for Darcy,” the older brownish-red horse said. Several horses behind him agreed.
“Enough!” Zelvia barked, and led the herd, Dilah, and Ankel toward the mountainside.
The terrain was steep and the ground was hard, strewn with sharp stones of various sizes. Dilah didn’t think this kind of land was suitable for a race and wondered why Ankel had chosen it. Kassel didn’t seem confident at all and hung her head the whole way to the starting point. Darcy was on cloud nine, prancing and smirking as if he’d already won.