The Albino Colt's Story
He stood poised, testing the wind,
His nostrils flared to catch the scents.
Far below, in the craggy dale,
His herd grazed in relaxed concentration.
He found nothing to alarm him
But there was still such a sense of ill-ease.
He suddenly detected a movement in the herd
As she walked away from the main group.
He watched her slow swaggering progress
As if each step was placed in acute pain.
He blew out as he knew her purpose,
This heavy-bellied mare was near birth.
The stallion whinnied to her
But she ignored him,
Her mind focused only a place of safety
To lie down and ease the pain.
She was a little mare, sorrel in color
And young into her third season.
The foal she carried was huge,
Much like the tall black stallion on the cliff.
She found some bushes near a scraggy tree
And laid down in the summer grass.
She stretched out, waiting,
Knowing by instinct what to do.
The leader of the herd paced nervously
On the jutted cliff of the rise.
A mare foaling meant an extra weakness,
An extra liability to protect.
He stood his guard,
The herd grazed
And as evening settled,
There was a high squeal from the bushes,
As the little mare brought the colt to life.
As he opened his eyes,
Rose on wobbling legs,
And found his now standing mother's teat,
The colt, white as snow
And eyes as pink as the setting sun's sky,
Did his first act in the world.
In the distance, the stallion, his sire,
Whinnied nervously as he knew in his steed heart
That trouble had just entered his world.
Autumn, in glorious wonder,
Had arrived like a golden-maned lion.
The grass in the craggy dale was thinning
And the herd was restless.
The black stallion had stood his post,
Ever the sentry; ever the king.
His colt, the white child of summer born,
Was growing in tremendous strides.
At only three months,
He nearly stood equal at his dam's side.
Moving as snow-falling in silent descent,
The colt showed great promise of strength.
His eyes, pink as all true albinos are,
Were disconcerting to look upon but even more,
When he stared at any member of the herd,
He never recognized pecking-order but stood undisturbed.
He was a prince and this he knew by nature,
And that one day, he would be king was his rapture.
If he happened upon an encounter with his sire,
The air between father and son was as invisible fire.
The black stallion knew that the colt must
Go the stages of normal growth and maturity
Before a challenge came that was not one of futility.
The albino colt, wise for his tender age,
Knew this as well through each growing stage.
Yet, in his heart already a king,
The colt knew it was he who would bring
The black stallion's worst nightmare
And of this, they both and Time were well aware!
(to be continued)