Part 1: Bright Star that Sets in the West
Chapter 1–Star's Intro. [Rewrite
The sun was low in the sky when I heard the leader of the humans speaking. They were all gathered around a small fire in the center of the village, eating and talking in that odd language of theirs. I, pretending to graze on grass, moved away from the other horses and closer to the humans that sheltered us in order to hear what was being said.
My name is Bright Star of the West, or at least it is now. My coat is a coppery brown, and my rider, Swift Deer, paints decorative yellow circles on my shoulder and ties feathers in my mane. I live with a band of humans that call themselves "Lakotas." They have settled in a lush, hilled valley, with a river cutting through it, and plenty of deer and pheasants to eat. I've been here almost an entire year, and I have learned a lot about humans. I won't get into that, however. What I have learned and what I will later learn will soon become clear.
I was once a wild horse, living on the plains beyond the valley's walls. I thought I would never have to give up my freedom, nor did I consider the possibility of an everyday object–a river–changing my life and my perspective.
It was a little more than a year ago when my herd made its seasonal trek to the open plains from the forest. The snow had begun to melt and add to the rivers and streams of the land. My older sister, now named "Calm Waters," my niece, "Brooke," and I were following the lead mare when we came upon a wide river. Eager to eat spring grass, the herd charged through the water, as it was only below-the-knee deep. Brooke had not been elated as the others were, and did not follow. Calm Waters had tried to comfort and reassure her daughter that nothing bad would take place, but she dared not move. I'd politely waited for them, and watched as the herd ambled on.
What no one had noticed was the gradual darkening of the sky, and without warning, the rain had begun to come down in sheets. I could barely see the nearest horses. I remember whinnying to them that the herd was moving, and we would be left behind, but Brooke was too unnerved to budge. All too soon, the river rose, probably to above-the-knee depth, and still the rain fell. The spring rains had come early!
Calm Waters, Brooke, and I had been forced to remain on our side of the river. Days had passed before the water returned to normal level. We'd crossed to the other side and continued on, and we saw that the path branched off into two new paths!
Here I will admit my foolishness, for I had never thought about our lead mare's directions much. We did not go to our winter territory that way–quite the opposite.
My instinct was to pick up the herd's scent, but the rain had dampened the ground, and I smelled nothing but muddy, water-soaked earth. Their tracks had been washed away, as well, so that was out of the question.
"Do you know the way?" I'd asked my sister.
"No, I'm afraid."
I'd wanted to move off on my own to scout ahead–maybe a clue had survived the rains. But I couldn't leave them behind. Predators would notice their vulnerability and attack, and I loved them too much to let that happen.
I did know that at some point, the path angled down, and we thus entered the valley, so I'd started for the path that appeared to lead that way. Little had I known. . . .