Cinnamon and her Captor

My tail swishes underneath the hot summer sun. A cool breeze picks up from the trees nearby where I stand resting in my paddock.

I flick my ears to chase off the annoying bugs that crowd around my body.

My owner has put on a thin blanket for me. She says it helps with the bugs. But I think she doesn’t understand that bugs still get everywhere. But at least this sheet helps keep me cool.

I shake my long mane, sighing in contentment until movement catches my eye.

I turn my head to see a pony standing outside of my fence. Its head is held up high, its ears are perked forward with curiosity.

I’ve never seen this horse before. Their smell is strange to me.

I move toward the fence line, pinning my ears back in a gentle warning.

“I’ve never seen you before.” I say with a snort, my tail swished in agitation.

“I was wandering and got lost.” The new mare says, her nostrils flaring at my scent.

This buckskin mare has short mane, yet it looks unkempt. Her coat is shiny with dirt matted along her sides. I wonder if she has jumped her fence and ran off.

“My name is Cinnamon. This is my home. Go back to your stable, why don’t you.” I say with a squeal.

The buckskin mare pulls her head back in response. “I won’t harm you. Can’t I stay here and quietly graze in the shade?”

I toss my head, my mane falls to cover my eyes. But I can still smell the other mare at the fence. “You are not welcome to eat my grass.”

“I won’t take your grass. I won’t cross the fence.” The buckskin mare says politely. She moves a little further away and lowers her head to graze.

I perk my ears when I hear my owner walking towards us. “Fine. Stay there if you’d like. But I’ll only welcome you if my owner accepts you here.”

The buckskin mare flicks her ears in a submissive manner. “I won’t cause any trouble.”

“Hm.” I turn away from the mare but remain close. I nipple of a fresh batch of grass as my owner moved towards the new horse, talking in her soft tone. She carries a halter in her hands. I can smell treats in her pockets, but I know they aren’t for me.

I watch as my owner approaches the mare and successfully puts a halter on her.

The mare stands quietly, and even nudges her nose at my owner’s hand.

Then I see my owner tie a strange bell around the mare’s mane. I shake my head with a snort. Then continue grazing as my owner leads this mare toward the barn. I wonder what will become of her now? Will she stay? Only time will tell.