Dawn Filly Part Two

"Wendy the Slow, she's not so oh-so, any mo mo mo," he sang as his voice berayed him by choosing that moment to sqauwk again.


But the strawberry blonde head did not notice his voice. The voice in her head screamed loudly, "Why? Why did you try? You know him- you know what he's like!" The angst descended upon her. She felt small and as if everyone were laughing at her.

"Darlin, it's ok, you are a slow horse," said the fat old gelding Ben, matter of factly through a mouthful of grass. He lifted a crooked knee so that he could get another mouthful before he swallowed the first. With a shrug of his bay shoulders, he turned his full attention back to the green patch in front of him.

Wendy walked slowly back toward the red gate at the top of the paddock. She blushed slightly, warming her rosy complexion, as she felt twenty eyes watch her pass. Her memory replayed Ben's words a thousand times that day and evening "...you are a slow horse..you are a slow horse...you are a slow horse." That night, she dreamt of sneering brown eyes with a haughty shake of his head as Baton Rouge galloped past her.

Restless and uneasy, her mood darkened with the morning sky. A cold front had passed overnight and it delivered a cold, pelting rain on its heels over the barn and paddocks. Thankful she would not be going outside in the rain- and that she would not see Baton Rouge today- Wendy spiralled deeper into a mood of angst and pondered her self-promoted worthlessness. Did the humans keep her here in the barn because they thought she was weak? Was she weak? After all, Baton Rouge had beaten her yet again and he was scrawny.

Finding neither solace nor answers, Wendy was wallowing by the next morning. She was an angry teenager- displeased with herself and ready to strike out. The cold front seemed to have settled permanently over the barn and it continued to rain. The human, Amber, came to bring her outside but they turned toward the indoor arena instead. During periods of murky weather, the horses from the barn were allowed to exercise individually in the arena. Amber walked Wendy through the falling rain and stepped inside. The floor of the arena greeted Wendy's nostrils with a pungent, earthy odor. It smelled like dirt, and dampness, and sweat all at once. Amber released Wendy and the filly meandered slowly around unable to escape the funk of her mood.

As Wendy wandered past the end door, which overlooked the paddocks outside, she could not see through the grayness outside. A shrill song reached her ears from outside in the bleak weather. "Wendy the Slow, she's not so oh-so..." the voice croaked.

Suddenly, her beauty did not matter- her breeding seemed unimportant- she filled up with rage and leapt forward with fury. Her back hinged and her front feet returned to the ground yet the fury was not spent. She kicked high and violently- as if she could expel the demon singing in her brain. And her hind foot pierced the metal shell surrounding the arena.

The pain rushed around her instantly. As she pulled her foot down, the ragged edges cut more deeply into the soft tissue above her hoof. In the way that moments define us, Wendy was both afraid and sorry. Time moved in fast-forward and slow motion at once.

Amber dialed her cell phone frantically, spoke several sentences, and hurried to her side. Soon, the humans were running cold water onto her leg. It ached terribly but the cold water running over it seemed to numb the pain. She turned once to see what they were looking at and saw blood spurting in an arc from her hind limb. There was too much blood- she reasoned perhaps it belonged to someone else? The water continued to run until soon, Wendy was standing in a large crimson puddle- large enough that the horse and humans were contained within its perimeters.