* * *
Something’s driving Sunday. I’m missing the clues. Maybe the baby? She might be looking for a good place to let us rest while she’s not able to lead. It might be the water’s closer than I thought. Maybe the boys we saw earlier are on our tails. Whatever the reason, we’re following the edge of the plateau.
We have another hour of light after the sun goes down. I could happily stand still for a while. But no. We’re always moving. I half-close my eyes relying on the dust kicked up by the girl in front of me. I can see my friend’s feet through my eyelashes as we travel.
We’re together. What more do we need? We’ve been at this for so long. I just want to get to the big pond. The lazy days of summer await.
The Old Soldier bumps me. I must have fallen asleep. No. That’s not it. Now that he’s pointing it out, I can hear something. It’s like the sound of the rogues we’d seen yesterday, only it comes from the wrong direction. Snapping my head up, I can see it in the golden evening sun.
A helicopter.
We have to run.
Sunday takes off. Sunday knows the way. Keep up with her. I scream in my head. She can find safety. Maybe trees.
Soldier pushes me hard with his shoulder. The shove nocks me off the path, but also makes sure my baby stays away from the edge of the mesa. He’s in the middle of our group now, encouraging the babies to keep moving. He tells the mothers what we already know: we could lose each other forever if we stop running.
Sunday’s leading us to the cliff’s edge. I swallow hard. She knows what she’s doing. That’s where we’ll go. We’ll hurt ourselves on the switchbacks if we run down the hill too fast. Maybe the glinting metal death above us will lose us as we zigzag down smaller paths.
The desert waits at the bottom. Soon we’re on rough red ground. At top speed, we swing ourselves between scrub and dehydrated trees.
The helicopter follows. I swivel my head, pulling my little guy forward with my eyes and voice. I don’t know how much running he can take after so many days’ march.
He’s strong, I tell myself.
We reach a straight away and give our all. It’s so late in Sunday’s pregnancy to be sprinting like this. I keep running. Everything in my life has told me to stay together. We’ll be safe as a group. Dust attacks my throat, coating my lungs.
I can’t do it.
My feet hurt desperately, pounding the rough ground. We’ve been running so long, walking for so many weeks before this.
I start to lag behind. Even Soldier doesn’t come back for me. I trot behind the group, slowing, hoping to blend into the ground, the shrubs. The helicopter drops directly behind me. A tinny voice fills the air with a foreign language. They know I’m here. My baby’s with Sunday and Old Soldier. I have to keep up, go on faster. I push off with every ounce of strength in my body. I have to do it. I can get back to my baby, back to the middle of the family. I’ll push until I fall down if I have to run that fast.
Soldier will save us. Stay with him.
Sunday’s leading us down the sandy wash. We can see a straggler ahead of us, a young one. He must have been with another group. Sunday falls in behind him, following him to safety as he charges on with such purpose. He’s leading us away from the metal monster behind us. I can hear it retreating; we must be going the right way. We stick close to the stranger, huddling together as the arroyo narrows. I smell a metallic tang in the air, but we’re still moving at a good clip. The vegetation is dense here, but our leaders push us onward.
We hear the metallic clang behind us. Old Soldier turns to face the sound. Turning, there are bushes where I’d run down a dry riverbed just a moment ago. We’re trapped. The metallic smell stays, though the helicopter is long gone. I test the bush. Its flimsy, a film over metal bars. There are men hiding in the bushes around us, too. My stomach drops. I circle my son, trying to protect him with my body, trying to see everything at once.
The men jump out, opening a path in the bushes. We shy from their rough appearance, but plunge down the escape route. It leads to another pen, another trap. Half the family is diverted, separating us. I find my baby and keep him close. I’m one of the lucky ones; I’m with the Old Soldier. He’s going to get us out. He’s challenging the men, calling loudly for our missing family.
And then they open another path. Soldier shoots down the trail, ready to confront them. But the bushes close behind him. Old Soldier’s gone. He’s calling to me, but I hear the words, “At least twelve years old. We can take anything over ten.” It doesn’t make any sense. We’re defenseless without our Old Soldier. We’re trapped in metal with our babies.
I stand tall, trying to see over the bushes. Jewel pushes against one, only to learn what Soldier is already crying. There’s metal on the other side of these bushes, too. There are men everywhere. I hear more words, “Fertility drugs” and “population control.”
Sunday sees a path open first. She cautiously moves toward the promise of freedom, one hoof at a time.
I nudge my colt. Sunday knows the way of things. She’s been doing this since before I was born. We’re split from our stallion, but we can see the lead mare. I follow. We follow. The men get their hands on me in a narrow passage. I’m prodded, poked from behind. I kick out at the offender, but only hurt myself against metal. They pick up my feet, open my mouth. My boy stays with me, wide eyed. “Too young this year,” one man says, prodding my baby’s ears. I bare my teeth and try to take the fingers that touched my foal.
The sun sets, and I enter a new trap, empty except for other trapped mares and their babies. Sunday waits for us, catching her breath. Her foal’s moving inside. I can see it turn against the sides of her stomach. It won’t be long now.
No more paths open.
The red sky tells us it’s over. We’re beat. Settling in, heads down, we wait. There’s water here, a lot of it, along with dead grass to eat. There are worse places to be.
Old Soldier’s calling to us from somewhere far away.
* * *
Sunday had her foal last the night, a sweet-faced filly with an appetite for life. I watch her as she learns to walk. Her mother’s scent and milk are everything to this little one. Jewel’s with us now and some others came through the same path we took.
We’re together, except for Soldier. Something must be keeping him. He’d never leave us alone.
I hear the sound of metal moving. The gates open wide.
We hesitate. Yesterday’s paths were traps.
A shout behind, the clang of something hitting metal, spurs us forward. We stop at the dead end. Hands grab and poke us. More metal comes behind me, keeping me from moving away. There’s a sting. I jump, mindful of my colt. He squeals as something prods him. I can’t turn to see what’s happening. “They’re done,” a voice says. The forward gate opens, and I bolt through.
My heart swells to feel my baby nudge my side. Two minute’s run, and we’re free. Sunday’s waiting for us in the same arroyo we sprinted down yesterday. Her little girl paces at her side, ready to prance out with her mama. With more of our group together, we head back to the plateau.
I follow Sunday and her baby; we all do. Raising our heads, keeping our dignity in spite of the rough hands that held us only hours ago. On a foothill we stop briefly. I pause, looking back for Old Soldier. I hear his voice on the thing breeze.
He’s so far away. Sunday lets out a long trumpet. We hear him, answer, too far behind.
She gathers her new baby and leads us up the switchback to the plateau. We’ll have to go alone, without Soldier and his safety. I feel empty without a leader. I push Sunday’s girl, helping her up the last bend as Sunday pulls her own tired body up the hill. Sides heaving, we stop at the top.
From the mesa’s peak, I see tiny vehicles crawl through the arroyo. We can’t hear Old Soldier anymore, but we know where we left him. We won’t go there again. Not if we can help it.
We’re not far from the gathering, the water hole. We’ll probably find
another protector at the foot of the glacier that feeds the big pond, someone who can fight off the young warriors for us. We might not be together anymore. If there are too many boys around, we’ll have to work hard to stay together. But we’ll do everything we can to stay with the family we know.
We’re the family.
We are the people.
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