The Future is Impossible

[Ranjit]

Until the History is Read

“Go go go!” The human dug his heels into the stallion’s sides, causing the beast to half rear. “Go! Run you fools, or do you want to die?” He yelled, spinning his steed in a circle so his voice could be heard by all of them. The others around him scurried around, desperately trying to avoid the bullets raining down around them.

The stallion snorted loudly as he reared again, feeling the spurs of the man rake his sides again. He followed the guide of the reins and the bit inside his mouth, turning to the left and leaping into a gallop, ahead of the tanks and Humvees that the United States’ were using. He helped lead the troops away, well aware his life, along with the lives of the five other horses around him, was in danger.

“Lets go!” The general screamed as a loud bang came from behind them. The stallion, to used to it to care, continued galloping, letting his hooves set the rhythm of the war. He knew that if his human lived, he lived. If his human was killed, he quite possibly could be captured and killed for human food or for his pelt. He had even seen the enemies of the U.S. using horse bones as weapons.

The world had fallen into war once again. The year was 2010 and days ago, the country of China had dropped a nuclear bomb onto the city of New York. Hours later, the United States had bombed China’s capitol of Beijing. The army had begun gathering troops and anyone from eighteen to thirty had been drafted into the war. It was, from what the stallion had gathered, the first draft the US had employed since WWII.

Bang! The sound of a gun going off close by made the stallion shy slightly, but he continued running. However, when a soft thud sounded above him and when he felt the human on his back slump over, he knew the human had been hit by a deadly bullet. He pulled off to the side, fleeing from there. He slammed to a stop behind some large rocks, feeling the human resting against his neck.

“Osalus, my stallion, I have been hit.” The human whispered, sliding of off his back. The horse could feel his fingers moving against the leather of the war saddle he wore. It fell off to the side suddenly, making the beast flinch. His blood bay coat shone out from where the saddle had been hiding it; everywhere else on his was stained with Chinese blood, mud and dust.

The human quickly striped his bridle off, tossing it to the ground. “You must leave, my beauty. You are too perfect for them to capture. You have to flee. The fallout will begin so soon. Travel away, my lovely stallion. Find a place to hide.” He murmured, holding the stallion’s muzzle. Deep eyes stared back at him and not for the first time, the man wondered just how much this stallion really knew.

Osalus would not leave until his human was dead. As the poison in the bullet spread through the man, the stallion stayed, waiting. Finally, hours later, the man whimpered, then died.

“No!” The stallion lifted his head, looking around in shock. His dark eyes flicked around and though he knew he was safe, his heart was throbbing as though he had just gotten out of the war once more. His pelt was covered in a light sheen that was sweat.

The stallion shook his head and hauled himself to his feet. His blood bay coat still held the same dark hue it had been all those many years ago when he had stood beside the man leading the human war. It had been 250 years since he had thought of his past and now, his mind traveled back.

He could remember it like it was yesterday; one moment, running free in Nevada, the next, rounded up and sold to the United States Army. He had been four at the time, just starting life as a stallion. He could remember the fear-scent that rolled off the younger horses; how calm the elder ones were; the squealing of the colts and fillies that had been rounded up; the neighing of mares; the shrill screams of stallions; the yells of the humans.

A man with a face like stone walked around the corral the blood bay horse was in, looking over each of the four year old stallions the BLM had placed in here. His eyes were green and his hair was a deep red that was cropped short. He wore a pin that showed four silver stars; at the time, the stallion did not know what this was. He would later learn it was the sign for a general.

'And what of the blood bay?' The man had a deep voice, slow and quiet, lightly accented. The stallion's ear flicked and he turned to look at the man. Dark eyes met green ones and the BLM person stuttered slightly as he spoke.

'H-he is a four year old stallion, out of the mountains just north of Las Vegas. He is green but has potential to be trained fast. He is strong and powerful, seems smart. He would be good for the army.' The younger man said, looking at the General. He knew he was sending the horses to their deaths, but had no choice. Horses could be flown over seas; vehicles could not.

The general clucked his tongue softly, holding out a gloved hand and twitching his fingers. The blood bay flicked his ears and lifted his head. He had been petted before and loved how gentle the human were with him. Tossing his red mane out of his face, he walked closer until he could press his muzzle against the gloved hand.

The man chuckled deep in his throat as he looked at the horse. He slipped through the gate and ran his hands down the horse's neck, noting the thick muscles and long mane. The horse had strong legs and a large chest, acquiting for large lungs. His hindquarters were shaped for running long distances. He was perfect. 'I'll take him.'

Osalus looked up at the stars that shone overhead. It was well before midnight, probably only 10 or so. He knew they would only see the stars for another couple of hours before the Red Dawn took over. Then, only til noon before Black Night fell. The stallion tossed his aged head and walked forward.

His training had been intensive and quick. He was broke to saddle in a week and was being rode by two. For two weeks, he was worked on basic dressage and light jumping. He was also trained with ignore other horses, panic, gunfire and general pandemonium.

After just a month of being out of his homeland, he was sent by plane to France, then shipped to some place in China. That was when the true test began. Fighting had broken out on the lonely plains of China and the United States was locked in a war.

Osalus remembered everything, just like always. It had been a long, long time since he had thought of what had happened; he usually tried not too. The aged stallion sighed, looking out over the herd. The other horses were sleeping; he could see the lead stallions resting softly, their wings folded at their sides.

He remembered the first time a foal had been birthed with the mutation of wings. It had been one of his own and he knew it was more or less his own fault for breeding, knowing he was contanimated from the fallout. But, as the foal grew and bred, the wings became normal, and now, almost all horses had either feathers or leathery wings.

Osalus shook his head softly. His mind drifted to a couple of years ago, when the wolves had first attacked. The horses of Desura shared it with a huge pack of wolves. They had lived in peace for about a hundred years, but it was about two years ago when a foal had been found killed by a few wolves. the horses had demanded justice and got nothing. war had been declared and fighting lasted to this day.

He looked west, off to where the other herd of horses resided. The horses had split into two herds, but were sister herds and fought together against the wolves. They always had, always would. He knew there would be another attack soon. They never let the alphas rest for long, the herd stallions did.

He knew the war was about to worsen. He knew it was about to get bad. Ranjit and the other leaders had discovered another foal that had been killed not long ago and were deteremined for vengeance. Now, Osalus only wondered this: Who would win the war?

Plot (C) Ranjit 2008. Steal and be punished. Plot protected under the BAPP [meaning that if Befera finds out you stole this, she'll track you down and twist your limbs in ways that would be most uncomfortable].