(Background ambience: https://youtu.be/IvjMgVS6kng)
The herd was not difficult to find. Their thirst and desire for respite from heat and weariness made short work of their retreat from the strange woman. She loped slowly along the muddy creek-bank, following the water's course as it twisted and delved through the shallow valley. Ahead, she knew the stream fell over a small lip, and there widened into a broad pool with lush reeds and grasses about its brim. A narrow channel cut between two boulders on the far side, draining away into the next length of the creek, and this reservoir was a favored drinking spot for horses and wildlife alike.
She slowed her steps as she drew near the place. Ahead, through the green veil of willow fronds and low-hanging boughs, she saw large, shifting bodies and heard the residual snorts of the disgruntled beasts.
Her feet were silent in the yielding earth as she drew closer. She stopped a respectful distance away; close enough to inspect the horses adequately, without startling them afresh.
The young chestnut stallion seemed to have waited for her arrival. While the noses of his mares and foals were plunged into the cool water, his head was erect and aimed in her direction. With ears pricked forward, his burnished tail whipped side to side in quick, restless movements.
The woman stood still and met his gaze across the space between them. She smiled gently, but did not speak. Putting her hand slowly into the front pocket of her tunic, she withdrew a small, slender item and held it up. A carrot.
The stallion gave another fretful, conflicted grunt from deep in his broad chest. He looked away at the herd, as if to ensure the woman was not inflicting any sort of treacherous devilry upon them while waving this distracting morsel about. After reassuring himself, he turned back to the interloping figure, lowered his head warily, and took one, two, three steps towards her.
A few of the mares lifted their heads at this, water dribbling in strands from their lips as they watched the scene unfold. The woman stood far enough away that they did not panic and bolt, but they made their feelings known with blustery snorts and pinned-back ears.
The stallion acknowledged his herd's displeasure with a back-turn of his left ear, but his gaze remained forward. He stopped a stone's throw from the woman and pawed softly at the mud. A half-hearted warning. From this proximity she could see his nostrils flaring and relaxing as he huffed the wind, hoping for a whiff of the carrot in her hand.
She rotated it, showing it to him from different angles. "Come now," she said, in a voice as airy and weightless as the balmy breeze floating down from the sun-bathed plain beyond the trees.
Another step was dared by the stallion, and then another. He paused after each, bobbing his head, turning his great brown eyes one at a time to inspect her. The coat over his ribs shone with the vigor of youth and health, but the skin stretched a little too snugly over the bones. He was not old nor ill. But he was not used to feeding himself in the wilds.
She waggled the carrot enticingly, her smile stretching broad amid the wisps of ash-pale hair that hung loose from the plait at the back of her head. "I will not harm you," she said in the same, gentle tone.
This seemed enough to appease the beast at last. While the mares looked on with indignance, he closed the last of the gap in a few slow strides. The woman felt the heat blasting from his cavernous nostrils, puffing over her outstretched fingers. His eyes had softened now, and the wild anxiety previously glimpsed there had ebbed away. A velvety lip snagged the tip of the carrot, yanking it abruptly from her grasp.
"There now," she said, though her voice was very nearly drowned out by the enthused crunching of the carrot. "You are fortunate that I carry such things with me. Though I will have to make an excuse to my own horse when I get home, and have no carrot for him." She made no move to place herself closer to the horse, nor to touch him. Instead, she took a slow step backwards.
The stallion's hide shuddered over his flanks. He turned to gaze back upon the small herd still huddled round the pool, drinking their fill.
"You belonged to someone," said the woman, and her voice held a note of pity. She tilted her head, peering over the animal's neck, legs, and sides. The faded lines of a lost halter were still plain on his cheeks, but now she could glimpse other trails here and there upon his body. Old scars from some former life of misfortune, or perhaps battle. "Surely he is missing you?"
The stallion swung his great head round again, and gave her a baleful, endearing stare.
She took another step away from him, but did not turn. "They will find their way without you. Do you want to find your master?" Her feet halted and she clasped her hands together. "A choice is before you. I have no rope to fling about your neck, nor would I do so if I had one."
Behind him, the mares and foals had finished their drink from the shady pool. The head mare was already leading them away, their big bodies snapping and crunching through the low-flung branches as they returned to the open grassland. Refreshed, the foals bucked and darted in and around their mothers, aunts, and grandmothers, before sprinting away on their spindly legs. A few of the horses paused to glance curiously at their puzzling stallion, before moving off and into the waiting sunlight.
By the time their hoofbeats had faded away, and quiet fell over the scene once more, the stallion had not moved to rejoin the herd. He stood like a statue, thoughtful and silent for a long while. The woman waited patiently, taking little steps backwards every minute or so, stretching the distance between herself and the horse. At length, as the sun began to sink low over the western hills, and the hollow beneath the willows filled with warm, golden light, he bowed his head and gave a great snort, and began to follow her.
