My Name Is Caspian

I pounded a hoof angrily upon the dirt path, temptation and anxiety hanging above me like an ominous cloud. As I was weighing my options and getting a broader view on the situation, a tall square faced man walked down the path from behind me, a slight skip in his step. His arms hung loosely at his sides, and his eyes were dreamily staring at the road. The way he walked reminded me of a fishers bob, and I realized that for such a hefty man he had quite a graceful walk. I turned around to face him, curiosity now replacing my other emotions. No one ever traveled this road, not when I had been here.
When he saw my large shadow he abruptly stopped in mid step and looked up at my looming figure. He stumbled backward, quickly regaining his equilibrium. Maybe it was the way I was intently eyeing him, or my kind face, but he immediately knew that I meant no harm. A smile slowly spread across his lips, blue eyes glistening in the dim light. Even though I didn’t fully understand human, I managed to make out a few of his words.
“What’s a nice roan like you doing out in these parts?”the man said. He extended a long hairy arm in my direction, and my natural instincts were to shy away but something prevented me from doing so. As his callused hand touched my thin coat, I outstretched my neck and curled my upper lip. This man smelled different. Before he could stroke my neck, a rustle was heard nearby. I startled, but when I heard the familiar sound of a faint gasping, I knew it was just The Runt.
The Runt (so I called him) was a small feeble man, and a man I could hardly call him. He was weak, frail, and had the tendency to squeal at small things such as a wolf howling to the moon or the eerie screech of an owl. He had a small tuft of grey hair jutting out of his narrow scalp, and sagging jowls that hung like a caterpillars nest in spring. His eyes reminded me of the ocean on a cloudy and stormy day, cold and unforgiving. His ways were so unlike mine, barbaric and mean. He destroyed almost anything that didn’t have a purpose, and knowing no other humans besides him, I thought it was normal of their kind…until today.
“Who a Yeou?” he said to the large man, warily inspecting him from head to toe. Brambles stuck out from underneath The Runts permeable overcoat, and willow twigs managed to find their way into the bottom of his trousers. When the man didn’t answer he asked again, and louder.
“I am Bartlebee, and this must be your horse?” He gestured toward me with a nod of his head. I was starting to understand their body communication, and made the conclusion that he was talking about me. The Runt looked at his hands, than back at the man.
“Aye, so?” The man looked confused at these words.
“Do you ride him?”
“What else would eye do with em?”
“Do you travel much on him?” Now The Runt was annoyed, and pointed a stubby finger at the man.
“What’s yeou proddin me foa? He’s moine, na tend ter ya own business.” The man smiled apologetically, and made one more glance my way before returning to his graceful, bobbing walk down the small path. The Runt stared him down until he was out of sight, and then turned to me with his eyes full of hatred. I remembered the kind eyes and smile of the male human, and compared it to The Runts malicious glare and menacing scowl. My decision had been made, I was to leave. Making haste, I barred my teeth at the man and broke off into a gallop, down the path the man was heading. It felt good to finally feel the wind on my face and see the blur of the world around me, to feel my hoofs lift off the ground and return again, only to repeat the process. I reached the man slightly after the small bend; he looked not a bit surprised to see me. Without a word, we ran together until the path ended and there was only a small trail, which we continued on until we broke into the steady waves of the hills. Here we rested until the sun began to set, than continued at a hurried walk. The whole time we could hear the cracked screaming of The Runt through the trees.