This is a MHBTY spin-off, mini-fic inspired on Black Beauty, and will center on the POV of Medianoche and Nezmal. I think it's a very good book regarding horse treatment and first-person perspective from the horse. This will be third-person perspective, but from the horses' view.

Enjoy!

Nezmal had never been the type to judge people, but in the few occasions he did, he had a surprising accuracy. When the dark-clothed god with the mighty Friesian had approached to touch him, he felt he had no bad intentions, and this was confirmed when he saw how well he got along with his horse, Medianoche, he learned. Then he heard something about a wager, a common word in his master's vocabulary, he didn't have to guess what they had bet on. Something about a person called La Muerte, and he and the stallion called Medianoche. Then they had to run through a dry place, which reminded him of his First Home, but when he realized that whoever lost would have to hand over his horse, he didn't want to imagine his magnificent and lively rival having to suffer under his cruel Master, so when his Master was distracted due to a sandstorm, he went back to where Medianoche and his own Master were having trouble with the dust in the air, neighing loudly to call their attention.

After the small help, Medianoche and his Master managed to run ahead of them and reach the end line, winning the 'race'. Master Itzlacol kept his end of the deal this time, and left without him. A part of him was sad, but he hadn't been attached to his Master that much, and his Master clearly didn't care about him at all either, he had left without goodbye, just leaving the reins and disappearing.

Then he got to know his New Master. They stayed at the river for a while, and Nezmal was happy to have a refreshing bath and a good drink after having to gallop through the desert. All the while, the New Master was very considerate and kind, though he had to admit he was taken aback when he changed shape into a black skeleton with dark feathered wings, but other than that his personality was the same. New Master even named him Nezmal, the way he was calling himself right now, he was grateful he had finally been called a name. After both horses were bathed, New Master took them to the shade of one of the nearest tree to wait till their coats dried a bit. Nezmal took advantage of this time to talk with Medianoche a bit.

"What's your name?" he asked with a small snort. He already knew his name, but thought it would give some kind of sense of familiarity

"Medianoche." The Friesian said, lifting his head from small the patch of grass he had been grazing on. "How about you? I know Xibalba just named you Nezmal, but did you have a previous name before?"

"I didn't really have a name before. In my First Home I was called Reddie, but when I was sold to my Former Master he didn't bother to name me." Nezmal glanced at Xibalba, who was curiously doing something on a small piece of wood with a sharp knife. "What is Master's name?"

"Xibalba. He might look scary, but he is a very kind Master. And he is a very skilled rider too."

"How long have you been with him?"

"For centuries, but I lost count. He is the only Master I've had."

"Okay, guys, time to go home." Xibalba stood up, putting the knife and wooden piece away. "Juarez is soo going to like this…" he chuckled at the last part, grabbing the reins of both horses. "Nezmie, I hope you like cold climate, I'm afraid there's lot of snow down."

Nezmal had already gotten used to the 'teleportation' thing the Masters used to get from far place to another, he wasn't fond of it, sincerely. He felt like a current of some sort going through his veins and coursing through his body, then the surroundings changed and became different, and when the energy dissipated, they were in a different place entirely. He always wondered why Gods had horses if they could move that easily, but he guessed he would never know.

This time, they appeared in a cold, gray place with dark surroundings. The unfamiliar smell of ash made him sneeze, and the cold climate made him shiver in discomfort. Before them was a large structure in the shape of a massive tower, but there were two giant snake heads at the top; he wondered if this was where Master lived. His suspicions were confirmed when Master started to walk forward towards what seemed to be the stable. But as they stepped into the surprisingly airy stables, a creature Nezmal had never seen before approached. It was a sort of large reptile with skeletal body and green marks all over with a hat and a handkerchief.

Nezmal neighed in fright and tried to step back in case this creature was dangerous.

"Don't worry, Nezmie, that's just Juarez. He won't hurt you." Xibalba had chuckled at the reaction, but his hold on the reins didn't falter.

"My Lord, where did you get that horse?" the reptile whose name was Juarez inquired.

"Juarez, this is Nezmal. I just won him from Itzlacol, and I got the feeling he hasn't had a happy experience with him. Could you take a look at him?"

Nezmal started to tremble, his ears flat against his head as the Juarez grabbed his reins while Xibalba took Medianoche to his stall. Juarez wasn't really that tall, and his clawed hands were surprisingly gentle as he started to check his legs, but when he touched his sides Nezmal winced, snorting uncomfortably. New Master had cleaned the wound from the spurs, but they were still sore.

"Well, muchacho, looks like your previous owner dug those spurs deep." Juarez muttered. "Thankfully they're not that bad, but I bet they must be hurting like hell."

Nezmal snorted in agreement. A few minutes later he relaxed when he realized the Juarez wasn't dangerous. The Juarez removed the saddle and bridle and put them aside for the time being, then placed a halter on him, and he started lifting his legs to take a look at his hooves.

By then, Master had already put Medianoche on his stall, unsaddled and all. "So, how do you see him, Juarez?" he inquired, approaching with his hands behind his back.

"Up to now he looks healthy except for the wounds made by the spur, My Lord. He needs new horseshoes, though, they're almost coming loose."

Master nodded. "Very well. Change his horseshoes and put him in Blanca's stall for the time being…" Master looked back at Medianoche when the black stallion snorted in annoyance, bending back his ears and stomping his foot on the ground. Master chuckled. "Don't worry, my boy, just for a few days." Master looked down at Juarez again. "Give them some warm oats tonight, they ran a good distance and a deserve a treat."

Juarez bowed his head. "Yes, My Lord."

As Master walked away and disappeared behind the gates of the mighty castle, Nezmal followed Juarez as the creature led him closer to the fire, where the tools for the job were accommodated neatly, he could tell Juarez was very organized. Nezmal felt much better after his old iron shoes were replaced with brand new ones, and the Juarez was very careful as he did so. Finally, Nezmal was put in 'Blanca's' stall, and Juarez put a warm blanket over him to warm him up. Then he poured some freshly-warmed oats in both stalls; Nezmal snorted happily as he technically devoured the oats, enjoying his meal for the first time. Then he took a drink of warm water to refresh himself.

Juarez chuckled. "Good boy." He told him. "If you're lucky, you might get some alfalfa tomorrow. Lord Xibalba will probably test you out, but don't worry, you'll like him." With that, he let out a yawn and walked away towards a door on one side, probably where he slept.

Once they were alone, Nezmal glanced at Medianoche through the bars separating their stalls. "Who's Blanca?" he asked.

Medianoche looked down, flattening his ears against his head sadly. "She's the most beautiful mare you could ever meet. Her coat is a pearly white almost like the moon in the night sky, her eyes so full of spirit and her mane flows like the current of a silky river."

"Where did she go? What happened?"

"I don't know exactly. Mistress just came down a few weeks ago, mounted on her without bothering to saddle her and both left. I think Master got into a fight with Mistress and she left, but I can't tell exactly. Garra and Colmillo said he told her to leave."

"Who?"

"Two hounds who live inside with Master. They are his favorites of the whole pack."

"Why would he tell her to leave?"

"Who knows? Gods have different mating rituals, some would think they weren't made to be, but I can tell they were destined for each other."

Nezmal shook at the cold air despite the blanket. He was used to hot temperatures, this sudden change was the only negative aspect of his Change of Master. "Brr! How can you live with this climate?"

"I've been living here for a while. It's not that bad once you get used to it."

"Is that why your mane and tail are so long?"

"Nah. They are this long because of my grandfather, but I do have a thicker coat."

Nezmal snorted. "How is this Master like?"

"I said before he is a very kind Master. He never whips or punishes me like that, he talks to me almost to the point he can understand what I mean to say, and I can tell what he wants even if he hasn't told me. Not only that, but there's no rider better than him, his hand is firm but gentle, he has confidence in both his abilities and me."

"He sounds much more nicer than my Former Master."

"He is."

"There's something I don't understand." Nezmal said. "If Master has wings, why does he move around on a horse?"

"I don't know. But I think his wings aren't in much shape at all, Master once mentioned his father burned them when he was a child. Ever since, he cannot fly for too long, so he prefers to move around on me. And I don't really mind, his wings can be useful in a few occasions. You might see…" Medianoche sounded a bit upset at this last proclamation, but Nezmal decided not to push the matter for the time being. Time would tell.

The next day, Nezmal had a tasty breakfast consisting of warm straw and alfalfa, and some fresh water. A little while later, Master came to the stable and naturally he went to give Medianoche some pats on the neck, a few words and some sugar cubes. Afterwards, Master came to his(or rather, Blanca's) stall and led him out by the halter gently, giving him reassuring pats. Then he asked Juarez to put him the saddle, and again Juarez was gentle and kind. He made sure Nezmal was comfortable, making sure the saddle wasn't hurting him.

Then Master mounted him-Nezmal had the feeling Medianoche wouldn't be very happy when they got back-and gently kicked his side, but he didn't wear spurs. Nezmal felt great relief as he walked down the stone bridge leading into the terrain. However, he was used to sandy terrain and soft grass, but all around them was rocky terrain and ash-or snow, he couldn't tell-and his hooves were hurting. Master seemed to notice.

"Don't worry, boy." Master said, patting his neck. "I'm taking you someplace else to test you out. I don't want to hurt your hooves when you're in your prime."

Nezmal snorted in discomfort when Master did the teleportation thing, but soon he found they were in a sort of desert, but it wasn't like the soft, sandy ground of his homeland, it was more solid under his hooves, though he could tell there were lots of sand around.

Like Medianoche had said, Master turned out to be a good rider. His hand was firm and he radiated confidence, he knew what he wanted and knew how to let Nezmal know. But overall, he never used a whip or kicked his sides roughly to punish him, he simply spoke to him with reassuring words and patted his neck to let him know he was satisfied.

Xibalba tested out the steed like Epona had taught him. He first made him walk, then trot, and finally made him gallop a few miles around the desert; this horse was very lively and had lots of energy to spend, and he loved it. He could tell he loved to please people when they were nice to him. Sure, he was not Medianoche, but he was a good horse. Soon, however, he took notice that he didn't like jumping at all. He spotted a fence a few miles away, but when he led Nezmal towards it, the stallion neighed loudly and stopped short, shaking his head. He tried a few more times, but Nezmal refused to jump. Nezmal thought he would punish him like his Old Master used to whenever he disobeyed, but Xibalba simply sighed and patted his neck.

"You aren't that much into jumping, are you, boy? Medianoche isn't much either, I have to give him extra treats for it."

After a while more of trotting and galloping around, Master led him to a lake which surrounded a town, nearby there was a bridge that led into it along with a sign on top of the two entrance posts, but the couldn't read human language. Master had changed them both into normal-size, and he took a human disguise-Nezmal never understood why they always had to change their forms in the Land of the Living-and allowed him to take a drink. Nezmal kept drinking for a while when an elegant carriage came into view from town; Xibalba could tell no one was aboard it, except the coachman leading the pair of horses, one dark brown with white socks, another a grayish white. They were a nice pair, until both Xibalba and Nezmal noticed their heads were being held up by a check-rein.

The coachman noticed Nezmal and halted the carriage to a stop. The horses pulling it panted, snorting in discomfort at being unable to lower their heads to rest their spines. "Is that an Arabian?" the coachman directed to Xibalba.

While he normally didn't like to talk with humans, considering it a waste of time, in this occasion Xibalba felt obliged to reply. "He is."

"What a good specimen! I hear they are very hard to control, though, and they can only be afforded by rich gentlemen."

"Actually, I earned this little guy from a bet." Xibalba patted Nezmal's neck. "I heard that rumor too, but this fella's actually very nice. All he needs is a few pats and some kind words."

"You're lucky, man. In San Ángel we have only quarter horses and other, less refined breeds. The Army is the only one that has fancy horses like those."

Nezmal stared at the check-rein with apprehension, which didn't go unnoticed. "Say, who do those horses belong to?"

"General Posada. He bought a good pair for his carriage, but he likes to use the check-rein, thinks it makes them look fancy."

"They don't seem to think the same." Xibalba pointed out, motioning at the exhausted horses. Epona would have given the man a good scolding for it.

"I know, I don't like to put them though this, but that's how the General wants it…" the coachman stopped talking when suddenly Xibalba's eyes momentarily turned green and red, and his own eyes turned that color for a few seconds before dissipating. "…Then again, what he doesn't know doesn't hurt him, does it?" he climbed down the driver's seat and loosened the check-rein completely. The horses let out snorts of relief as they lowered their necks and shook the painful stiffness off their spines before the coachman climbed back into the carriage and drove away.

Nezmal snorted in delight at the good action.

Master chuckled. "What? I wouldn't like to have to pull something while having to lift my head all the time either."

That night, Nezmal told Medianoche what had happened while he was out with Master. Medianoche had gotten over his jealously, and spoke. "Xibalba doesn't like the check-rein very much, he thinks it strains our backs. And he isn't wrong at all."

"You're lucky." Nezmal sighed. "My Former Master always had the check-rein put on very tightly me and the other horses."

"Doesn't sound very pleasant."

"Life with him wasn't very pleasant."

"What about your First Home?"

"It was better…" Nezmal explained. "My First Home was a large palace's stables in Arabia. My mother was a pretty white mare, the sultan's prized warhorse, though he had retired her for breeding. I was her third foal. I spent about two years with her before I was taken aside for training. The humans expected too much of me because my sire had been a prized purebred stallion, so my training was a bit strict. They weren't harsh, but they were demanding. When I didn't perform perfectly, they didn't give me the treats they'd often give to purebreds sometimes. I craved for it so badly I did my best."

"Sounds interesting."

"I had nothing to complain there. But then I was bought by my Former Master. That's when I discovered not all people were kind." Nezmal snorted. "My Former Master was impatient and cruel, you had to do what he ordered right away or he whipped you, or put a painful bit in your mouth."

"You mentioned he always used the check rein."

"He did. He had a sort of obsession for us looking fancy. His carriage horses always had to wear the check-rein or he wouldn't even look at them. He was harsh on the grooms, and they were hard on us. We never knew pats or kind words. He always mated mares with stallions he considered worthy; he always sought to have the 'perfect mount'. He always discarded fillies, and kept the colts he thought could meet his expectations. Those who didn't were sold… He didn't care if the mares he wanted to breed with didn't want to be mounted yet…"

"That's horrible." Medianoche snorted, flattening his ears against his head.

Nezmal didn't want to speak about his Former Home anymore. "What about you? How was your First Home like? You don't seem like you were mistreated."

"I wasn't." Medianoche sighed. "Have you heard of Lady Epona, the Mistress of Equines?" He continued when Nezmal nodded. "I was born in her stables. My mother was a beautiful black mare named Camaria. She was a favorite of Mistress Epona because of her wild but sweet nature. I spent my first years there, running free alongside my mother in the endless fields and forests. There were hundreds, maybe thousands of various other equines in that place, not all normal horses, but Mistress Epona's favored horses, be it Pegasus, unicorns or normal horses like me lived in the stables, while the rest lived in the wilderness."

"Mistress Epona is the kindest Mistress we could have ever had. She was loving, caring and all horsekind can agree there's no better rider than she. In case you don't know, she is the Celtic Goddess of horses."

"Sounds very pleasant." Nezmal sighed, snorting. "Maybe if I had grown up with you Mistress Epona I would have been happier."

"You certainly would have. Her training methods were always gentle and reassuring, I remember the first time I had to wear a bit she gave me lots of grain and oats to convince me not to spit it out. She always has pats and sweet words to us horses."

"Didn't she sell them?"

"Rarely. She didn't think horses were items that could be just given away like that, she didn't give her horses away or even sell them to just anyone. She always makes sure whoever wants us will be a fair, kind owner."

"How did you meet your Master?"

"It's an interesting tale. I was a young horse at that time, but since my grandfather was a Kelpie-"

"What's a Kelpie?" Nezmal asked.

Medianoche snorted in annoyance at being interrupted, but nevertheless he answered the question. "Water horses. They are usually dangerous to humans, but the ones in Mistress Epona's realm are merely playful and a bit naughty. Horses born with Kelpie descent have much more strength, stamina and speed than normal horses would, and can't drown. This is one of the reasons people want Epona's horses so much."

"Anyway, let's say being a related to the Kelpies got to my head. I didn't want just anyone to ride me, I wanted someone worthy of me. You could say I gave Mistress Epona a headache. That day some of her stablehands were trying to subdue me, but to that day only Mistress Epona could get close to me. Xibalba had gone to visit Mistress Epona, they were siting under that strange carpet they use to protect themselves from the sun while they have their drinks."

"The first time Xibalba came close to me, I was frightened of his looks. I would bet you were put off by his appearance when you saw him without his Glamour on."

Nezmal nodded.

"I felt the same. I thought he was dangerous at first, but when he spoke to me, his voice was very soothing and yet with an air of authority. I was uncertain, but he stroked my neck, and surprisingly he understood how I felt. When I let him unto my back, I felt as if we had a connection, and that's when he officially claimed me. That's when I got the green marks." Medianoche pointed at the swirly, glowing wing marks in his legs with his snout. "The first time we galloped together, I felt complete for the first time in my life. That was when I knew he was the one."

"He was a kind master back then too?"

"He has always been kind. It took each other a while to get used to each other, but once we did, we became inseparable. He trusts me, and I trust him. He speaks to me as if I were an equal."

"I wish I could meet your Mistress Epona."

"You may soon. Master has probably told her about you, and she is always eager to meet new horses. Believe me when I tell you, you'll like her."

Soon, Nezmal started to feel bad. It became harder and harder to breathe, he felt as if his lungs ached whenever he took in the cold air, and exhaling was a torture. He struggled to take in enough amount of air because the cold temperature was hurting him. Juarez noticed almost immediately as days went on, and when Xibalba learned about it he called Epona. The first time she had seen Nezmal, he had been lively and healthy. However, she grew alarmed when she saw his state, and immediately checked on him.

"Poor boy…" she was stroking his head tenderly while placing her hands on his sides.

"What do you think is wrong with him?" Xibalba inquired in worry.

"It seems as if he has breathing problems, the poor dear… He was pushed too hard without being ready and it ruined him."

"He didn't have any problems when he arrived here."

"Knowing Itzlacol, he used a sort of spell to hide it, but the cold temperature triggered it again." Epona sighed. "I can tell he has seen better times. He needs to live in a warmer climate, if he stays here his condition will worsen."

Nezmal didn't like where the conversation was going, but he couldn't hear anymore, for Master and the red-haired lady left towards the castle. He wondered if he would have to be sold again.

One day, Master took both Nezmal and Medianoche out of the stalls, but he only saddled Medianoche up, while he only put a halter on the former. Then teleported the three of them to a realm just like the one Medianoche had described to him. There were green pastures everywhere, along with tall trees that stretched out to touch the blue skies. There were lots of horses all around, of different breeds, sizes and colors, all of them looked very happy and content. Nezmal panicked momentarily when Xibalba removed his halter and patted his neck.

"I'll be back in a while, Nezmie. I gotta fetch someone. Take a look around meanwhile, okay?" With that, Master mounted unto Medianoche and disappeared.

Nezmal just stood there for a while, nervously glancing at his surroundings, most of the other horses had just looked at him momentarily before going back to their grazing. Thinking it wouldn't hurt to go a bit closer to the herd, Nezmal took a few tentative steps forward. When they didn't react negatively, Nezmal lowered his head to graze a bit. The green grass was very delicious, the best he had ever tasted in his life.

A few minutes later, a dark bay pony with blonde mane and tail and white socks approached with his ears raised. "Are you new here?" he asked curiously.

"Sort of." Nezmal said. "My Master brought me, but he just left. He said he'd be back in a while."

"You're an Arabian, right? Mistress Epona has a few of your kind, all born in her stables." The pony snorted in surprise when Nezmal let out a few coughs. "Are you okay?"

It took Nezmal a while to answer. "Don't worry… I just have some breathing problems…"

"Does your master overwork you?"

"Not my Current Master. My Former Master did."

"I'm Prancer. It's nice to meet you!" the pony neighed cheerfully. "What's your name?"

"Nezmal."

"How about I show you around while your master returns? You know, you could get to know the others, you might even meet one of the Water Horses!"

"Water horses…?" Nezmal gulped. "You mean the Kelpies?"

"They're not that bad. They're a bit arrogant, but other than that they're nice… most of the time."

Nezmal followed Prancer around the pastures and forests for a while, often talking with other horses around the place, most of them were very nice, others shy, others haughty, and as much as their personalities differed, so did their breeds. He even got to meet a young Kelpie, who didn't look that different from a normal horse, on land at least. Soon after Master returned with a woman on a white horse, the Blanca she had been hearing so much about. Master and the woman unsaddled Medianoche and Blanca and let them roam free; Nezmal liked Blanca almost instantly, she was polite and well-spoken, but also feisty and confident. She had been raised in Epona's stables too, though she didn't have Kelpie lineage, that didn't happen that often.

Hours later, after a few misadventures, Master gave a whistle, and both Medianoche and Blanca went to their respective owners. However, as Nezmal went over to Master, he was surprised when Xibalba smiled sadly at him and gently pushed him away.

"My boy, you can't come with me anymore." Master sounded sad. "You can't live in a cold climate because it harms you. You will be better off with Epona, you'll have lots of friends and overall, you'll be comfortable and happy." Xibalba glanced around. "Epona will never sell you, you can live in plenitude for the rest of your days, my boy… But I will miss you."

Nezmal couldn't believe what he was hearing. Did this mean his master was… releasing him? There was a bid difference between being released and being abandoned, and Nezmal could tell each other apart. His master was worried about his health, and realized the cold and the snow in his home deteriorated Nezmal's health, he was doing this out of love, not because he didn't want to look after him anymore. Nezmal glanced at Medianoche and Blanca, and noticed the black stallion giving him a sad but reassuring glance.

Finally, Nezmal turned around and started trotting towards the herd of wild horses, but not before he stopped and glanced back at his Master one last time.

Xibalba smiled sadly and nodded.

The red stallion reared up to give a cheery neigh before galloping after the rest of the herd, for the first time experiencing true happiness.