Follow your heart. I hope all you all have heard the story of Spirit? Good. Well many a folks be askin what happend next. So here is the tale of the west after Spirit was gone. Only it takes place in the Rocky Mountains when there was no Colorado. The dawn of a delayed night came swiftly as wind. The constant russel of twigs aroused a small band of mares. The leader, Canyon was a dark palomino Mustang, she loved the wild of the mountains. Canyon swirled her ears here and there, she spun around to the crunching noise in the bushes. A mouse came darting out and ran under Canyon, who merely watched it scurry by. Soon it would be spring and time to find the band a stallion to breed the mares. Canyon caught scent of a nearbyherd. She whickerd to her mares and they trotted off deeper into the grassy foothills. The sun beat down hard, Canyon noticed her mares were slacking. She gallopped back behind then and nipped them all the way to a river. Canyon had to admitt even she was thirsy, since she was lead mare she drank first while the other mares watched for danger. Then the second highest and so forth. Canyon sniffed the air and caught the scent of green grass. Her band would need a new home when the foals came. The damp grass cushioned their feet. Last night had been a nice rain, just the right time. Classy the 3rd mare in command whinned her disaproval at Canyon's direction. Canyon turned to face the dun colored mare, she trotted over to her and nudged her along. Mountain the 2nd in command shook her black coat, removing all pesky flies, she nickerd at Canyon, who saw her friend in annoyance trotted in direction of some dust to roll in. After a good roll the herd was back on their travel. The sudden squeal from behind the herd caught Canyon's attention. A lone stallion was traveling towards her herd with teeth bared. She charged toward the stallion and there was a thudding sound throughout the foothills. Only Canyon was still on her feet. Dazed the stallion looked at the mare who dared to challenge him, and won. He got to his hooves and stared at Canyon who merely stared back, he hung his head when Canyon nickerd to him. Even though he did cause some trouble, her herd did need a stallion. He turned back and nickerd appoligetically to her. He was a rusty color with 3 socks. She called him Rust. A week later the herd was ready to breed. Canyon rounded he herd up to notice two things. First every mare including her was careing a foal, and last Rust had dissapperd. Looking for more mares no doubt. She snorted, now with no stallion and everyone careing foals Canyon would have to choose paths carefully. By Howling Wolf