Chapter 79 (1/2)

…I'm positive this was an April Fool's joke of some sort.]

What position do horses occupy in this world? I think that, aside from me, there would definitely be very few that think about it.

Humans wouldn't think about it, and the horses pulling carts and grindstones probably don't have the time or energy to think about it. But I have been thinking about this topic from a very young age.

I am considered fortunate. Just like humans being born within the cinnabar gates of a n.o.ble family, a horse's bloodline is also very important, even moreso than humanity's. For though the content of a human's family background determines a great many things, there are still opportunities for them to fight for, but for a horse, bloodline determines everything. Whether they're fast or slow, can run or not, their speed, strength, and endurance is cut and dry.

I am very lucky that both of my parents are horses from the most n.o.ble bloodline, my sweat running red as blood.

When I was small, I lived in a large pasture. I didn't know at the time about the Central Plains, nor did I know the place I was in was called the Western Regions, nor did I know that humans are the Keepers of this world. I believed that the Western Regions were the center of the world, and that this pasture underneath my feet was mine.

There are very many humans at the pasture, and very many horses. When I was a young colt, I lived in a special encirclement alone with my mother. I never met my father, as he had been studded from outside.

Our treatment was different from the other horses'. At that time, the only thing I ate was the most verdant gra.s.s, and when idle I trotted about, watched the white clouds in the sky above that sometimes floated by quick and sometimes floated by slow, and should a white and yellow b.u.t.terfly come to a stop on a little blue flower, I would suddenly rush over to scare it into flying off. At that time, I believed the humans who frequently came were only to open the enclosing for us, and were born to give us fodder.

This sort of life slowly started to change as my body began to grow into that of an adult male, though I still wasn't really an adult then.

My mother was either sold or gifted to a n.o.ble. I was thereupon put together with the big group, yet still received preferential treatment. The alpha horse was very vigilant towards me at the start and was fine later. Leaving one's mother is very unsettling, but this is the predestined fate of all living things.

I found some companions similar in age to me. For the most part, they're a bit smaller than me, but it doesn't prevent us from running back and forth and forth and back every day, or mischievously scaring the old mares and mild-mannered geldings.

My best companion is a jujube-red little stallion that was born at almost the same time as me, whose speed is much worse than mine, and whose mother died when it was very small. For a chunk of time, we were almost inseparable as a form and its shadow. My ponderings in regards to life starts with its' experience.

When the little stallion was over a year old – due to estrus – was the beginning of being confronted with what was a complete consideration of convenience for humans, yet a very grim affair to an individual horse: apart from chosen breeding stock, the stallions were to be gelded.

Of course, wouldn't have that problem with my parentage, but my friend was not so lucky. I witnessed that day in person: everyone's unease, my friend's painful whinnying, and the uncaring smell of blood in the air. I fretfully stood straight in the enclosure, but I couldn't rush out of it, and I couldn't change anything. From that point on, my friend became a type that was different from me, and from mares, the kind of freak that falls to the lowest level of the colony…

That was the first time I knew what it was to be powerless, the first time that I understood that humans – the tiny, frail creatures – were much more powerful than us. They are the Keepers of this world, and we are merely tools under their command.

From that day on, I no longer watched clouds, or chased b.u.t.terflies, or did mischief, slowly transforming into a bad-tempered horse, and slowly growing into adulthood, breaking the fence very many times with my kicks and injuring very many humans with my kicks. Even those of my own kind who are silently enduring things are really annoying to me, with both humans and horses gradually keeping more of their distance.

They call me Wild Horse.

On the day of my saddling, a major event for the whole horse pen, those humans are excited yet very cautious, as facing down a big enemy.

A saddle, stirrup and reins were suddenly adorned on me. I brayed unhappily with the discomfort, hoofing at the ground and threatening those loathsome humans, attempting to kick anything near me. The rider was an expert known far and wide, and he deftly jumped onto my back. I began to jerk about and run, rearing up on my hind legs, but I couldn't throw him off.

His legs were clenched tightly around me, his spur piercing my abdomen and drawing out blood, the reins in my mouth and nose bleeding from the pull. I had never hurt so badly before.

I'm furious. I use all the tricks I have, and exhaust all of my strength.

Ultimately, I lose.

Humans truly are more powerful beings than us.

That rider came down from atop my back, walking unsteadily. “I've never seen a horse like this,” he said loudly. “I sweat through three layers of clothes.” The humans exploded into loud praises, congratulating him for his perfect, undefeated record of taming horses.

There was a special bonfire party that night, humans shouting and chatting and laughing and singing and dancing around the flames, young ladies and men slipping off into secluded places for trysts. I waited by myself in a corner with no light, alone as I sensed the sting of my wounds. I still remember the buzz of the flies as the circled my cuts, unable to reduce their numbers no matter how much I flick my tail.

Afterwards, I was presented to the King.

The King is a human in a position of the rest, and is said to be even more important than the leader horse would be. I could be a leader horse if I wanted to, but I will eternally unable to be a King.