Horse-toric Horse

Sunset fell into the west ocean. The cool, foamy waves laved the burning heat of our sun, and clouds were beginning to roam freely across the empyrean of our home. There were two of us, Mesohippuses, parents of the modern horse, and children of the Eohippuses, dual chiefs of different herds. I was the high chief, my name: Elijah. I had for the longest time lived in complete ignorance of the changing world around me.

As I recall this segment of time, I cannot help but feel pity for my childish ideas. For I was positive that I ruled over everything. I was terribly wrong. As we trotted along the shale that littered the margins of “my” ocean and discussed various political concepts, we lost track of time and did not realize where we had wandered.

Elisha, leader of the Eskipo herd, suggested following our hoof prints back to our homes in the grassland. We looked around; footprints weren’t to be found in the stone.

I, prodded on by my own egotistical thoughts, told Elisha to follow me into the forest, where I was sure I would find a trail. As we entered, a fearfully long shriek echoed from behind every tree. We were confused. What had made that noise?

As if fate’s purpose were to answer questions, a bird, larger than any I have ever seen, stepped in front of us. (I found out later it was called a Terror bird, nephew of the dinosaur.) It opened a gaping mouth and drew a snarl from its lungs. “What tasty snacks have I found here?”

I felt powerless in its presence, a feeling that was alien to me, but apparently not to Elisha. Before any creature could react, she had dragged me under the roots of a tree into an abandoned burrow. When we were sure the Terror bird had left us for dead, we quietly and quickly found our way home.

Later, I abdicated my rank and gave the position to Elisha. Beings aren’t worth crowning; actions are.