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Rated: E · Short Story · Drama · #1878291
A short story about the escape of a man and a mustang from a forest fire.
    His ears pricked up as he sniffed the air. The Tobiano Mustang stood to his full eighteen hands of height. Turning his head, he pinned his ears back and inhaled again. His nostrils confirmed what he had originally suspected; fire. The wind that had been gently caressing his mane from the west just moments ago had shifted, and now blew strands of the course hair to the opposite side of his neck. The meadow in which he had been laying seemed serene enough, and the tall pines that surrounded it blocked any view of the surrounding area. The perfect place to hide from predators had just become the worst place in the world to be.

    By the time the smoke became visible, it was impossible to tell where it was originating. The air became stifling, burnt pine, cottonwood, and aspen hanging thick. He whinnied and turned away from the billowing cloud and took off like a shot. As fast as his legs would carry him, he tore through the brambles and the undergrowth of the forest. The open grassland wasn't far, he knew, but would he ever make it?

    Shortly after entering the woods, the Mustang knew that something was wrong. The air grew thicker, and he felt as though he were galloping through an unnatural fog. He slowed and glanced behind to decipher how the blaze had caught him up in so quickly. He spun his head around just in time to dig his hooves into the ground and avoid entering the inferno.

    He shifted his weight and started off again to the left. As far as he could see, the flames flickered and licked the trees around him, towering above the canopy. The heat on his flank was unbearable, and several times he was forced back towards where he had come to escape the intense flames. On and on he ran, knowing that if he stopped or stumbled, it could very well be the last mistake he made.

      The smoke became so stifling that the Mustang eventually had to slow. He could not get enough air into his lungs to keep up his pace. He continued to slow, wheezing, and finally knew that he could go no further. With the last few steps that he could muster, he moved farther into the woods and as far away from the flames as possible. As he lay down to rest, his skin began to build up a rich lather. He closed his eyes, and knew that the end was near.
   
      The Mustang stirred as he felt something against his nose. He opened his eyes to find a human in bright yellow clothing holding something to his nose. He started, and tried to get up. He inhaled deeply to support his effort, and was surprised to find that the air from the device was in sharp contrast to the smoke filled air around him. He took another deep lung full of the air and felt the strength begin to return to his legs.

        The man took the device back and put it to his own face, and then offered it back to the Mustang. Another deep breath had the Mustang on his feet and ready to move. Slowly, and while alternating breathing from and offering the device to the Mustang, the human led him farther into the woods. The air became easier to breath momentarily, but then became thicker than ever. The temperature once again began to build, and the Mustang became wary of what this strange animal was trying to do.

      He snorted at the human, trying to warn him that he was going in the wrong direction. The human paid him no heed, and continued to lead on. The Mustang whinnied the warning, trying to get the human to understand. Just as he was about to turn and leave the human to his own fate, the human in the strange yellow clothing stepped into a small clearing, and the Mustang could smell something new in the air. Water.

      The human, weak and growing weaker by the step, once again offered the device to the Mustang. Simultaneously, he put one booted foot into a wide but shallow stream. The Mustang followed him in, glad for the cool rush of water against the singed hair of his legs. The fire consumed trees on both sides of the stream, but the Mustang could see that by walking down the middle of the stream, it was possible that they might survive.

    As they slowly trod upstream towards the flames, the water got slightly deeper, and ran slower. What was easy enough for the Mustang became increasingly difficult for the human. When the water reached nearly up over his shoulders, the human stopped and looked around for another option. The heat grew more intense, and it seemed possible that the water around them might be thinner and easier to breathe.

    He could see the end of the fire line, another 100 yards and he would be clear of the forest and into the grassland. He started forward again, past the human and upstream to safety. He looked back to give the human what gratitude he could, only to find that all he could see was the human's yellow hat and the device that had saved his life floating on the water. With a quick decision and quicker steps, the Mustang buried his had in the water.

    A tug on his mane told him that the human had found hold. He lifted his head back up and felt the human's body across his back. Upstream again he headed, as fast as he could against the current. The water quickly shallowed again, and he was able to trot the last fifty yards to the forest edge. Burnt bark crackled and hissed, embers still glowed hot in the breeze. As soon as he found a spot spared by the blaze, he lay down in the cool grass and closed his eyes, the human splayed across his back.
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