Sundance's armor glinted in the dawn light. His trapper held the kingdom's symbol of honor. As the lead horse of the cavalry division he could show no fear. He must be brave, strong and powerful. The heels kick at his sides and he shoots off into battle. His large hooves struck the ground and enemies. There was no mercy. Every horse was trained to strike down a solider. Their's or not. A battle was won because of them. Because they had the strength of many men. He knew at home there was a warm stable of straw and oats to eat. Another surge of power and the dust that had settled clouded the air again. All power were the Destriers, they were war horses. And he was definitely a Destrier.


How many days had they been on the trail? 2-3? Too many to count. Buck and his rider had been traveling west for a while now. He many not have been as big as his wagon pulling friend but it took a small sturdy pony to navigate the trails. He must be on the look for danger and bad footing as well as not be piggy. The trail was scarce(probably cause no one lived out west yet) and any food or water was a miracle. Thankfully he was small enough that the amount of water he needed was less than a normal horses. That's why his family was bred right? To be small trail ponies. Easy to care for yet strong enough to handle the hot land. He was a Pony of the America's and he wouldn't back down. He would carry on till his rider told him to stop and he would enjoy exploring the west. Manifest Destiny. That's what they called it. God put humans her to expand west and educate the natives. He must do the same. Expand and explore on behalf of god. He was an American Pony.


Collect the trot. Canter. Halt, cross your legs sideways. This was everything that a Spanish Calvary horse should learn. Prince was bred from great Andalusians. He must act like one. Quick and sturdy. He needed to be able to do all these movies to be a great battle horse. His Descendants would make Dressage. Change leads, change back, turn shoulders in, spin on haunches. Prince was ready to go again. Turning on his haunches turned him to face his enemies fast. A shoulder in made him go forward and watch his opponent. Light and graceful he was an Andalusian.

Austrian Sun

He showed no fear. His number 13 on his gold and white silk flapping in the wind, his jockey on his back and the ground shifting to meet him. 3,2,1,.. The trumpet rang and he charged. Dirt was kicked into his eyes as he did the same to the horse behind him. The sound of fans and the other horses hooves fell away and was replaced by his pounding heartbeat. His heart was as big as his grandfathers, his heart was a big as Secretariat's. He continued to say to himself. Yes his heart was twice as big as a normal horse. He would last the final stretch and he would bring honor to his name. He was a racer. His eyes narrowed at the blue stripes in front of him then next to him, and finally all he saw, all he tasted, was victory. Flashes from camera and the roses round his neck. He had not only won the derby but the honor of a racer. The honor that he was just a small bad legged colt and now he had won a national race was all he could ask for. He was a racer.

Stranger Danger

Her face lit up the entire room when she saw him. His leather halter made a clicking noise against the stall door and her face was buried in his mane, her fingers traced the golden etched letters on the plaque of his halter. CATO. A name she was so proud to give him. A name that had no meaning in his eyes but was the world in hers. The cross ties held him in and he wanted to run. But as she brushed the mud off his black coat and picked the rocks out of his hooves, she looked a mess with hay in her hair and slobber stains on her breeches yet always kept him looking spotless. His lavender purple polos were next along with his matching saddle pad. The first time she had put them on him he was ashamed. A strong stallion like him should be in golds and silvers. Yet her smile widened every time she saw him in purple. The metal bit was uncomfortable in his mouth but she always made sure to warm it up before a ride and never let any of his bands get to tight. A kiss was planted on his muzzle and she mounted his back. A slow trail ride at first then they were galloping. Faster than the wind where no fears could catch them. He was her horse. Tamed and obedient unlike his wild ancestors but loved much more then they ever were. and that was ok with him. He was her horse.