I am so cold, so hungry. There has not been food in my manger for days, and the straw bedding that I was forced to eat is gone. There are many holes in this stall, the wind whistles through day and night. I can never get much sleep for I am always hoping that my master will come with food. That hope never comes true though. How I long for the lovely freedom I once had. To be able to wander about and graze whenever I like, that is now just a distant dream. The simple pleasures I once enjoyed, they are gone now.
My master is coming; he has a bundle in his arms. Could it be? Could he be bringing me food? No! Not the whip, please not the whip! I have done nothing wrong, it was not my choice to be the pony of such a cruel master! Each lash of the whip feels as though a thousand knives are cutting my flesh, enjoying their unrelenting torment. I pray to the Horse Lords to free me from this hell. Take me oh dark and let me be free!
A man is approaching, but he is not my master. He is taller, and as he approaches I can see kindness in his eyes. The garments he wears are rough and travel stained, but beneath this tough exterior, I sense a giving soul. He reaches deep down into a pocket of his cloak and pulls out, oh joy, an apple! My mouth has long watered for the sweet crispy crunch of apples. As I devour the little red bundle of joy, he looks me over; inspecting my hooves and legs. My despicable master is coming. I lay back my ears and show my teeth, letting him know that I will bite him if he lays one hand upon me. The kind stranger and my master begin to converse in hushed tones. I can only pick up snatches of their conversation.
“You say you want twelve silver pennies for this beast? That is a ridiculous price, the most any honest merchant would pay for him is four.”
“Twelve is the price I ask, and you may either take it or leave it. From what I’ve heard though, he is the only horse or pony left in this town. It seems that he is your only choice.” The normally wheedling voice of my master had a malicious laughter to it, showing just how much he enjoyed being cruel.
“Twelve it is then, although it is a half starved piece of flesh I am paying for.” Again the man reached inside the pocket from which he had gotten my apple and withdrew a handful of coins. Snatching them from his hand, my master swiftly counts them and flashes an evil grin.
“He is yours then. Take the nag and do with him what you like. He is your problem now.” As he walks away chuckling to himself, the kind man turns back to me. He speaks softly to me, then unties my halter rope. What is he doing? Could he be possibly taking me away from this hated place? As I walk out the door for the first time in weeks, I rear up on my hind legs and whinny for the pure joy of freedom