Mustang in an Indian settlement

(You are a horse. A male).

You were born and raised among wild horses, the kind people call mustangs. As leader, you kept order: protecting the foals from predators and making sure they slept at night, and being the first to explore an unfamiliar area. One day, you and your herd were walking and came across a ravine. It wasn't high, but you had to check it out, so you went down, when suddenly, people came out and threw ropes around you, and you sent the herd back.

There were other horses there, too, but they were all domesticated and dark-colored. The soldiers saddled you and started training you to ride, but you kept throwing them off. No one could stay on you for even a minute; they'd fall right away or end up in the first aid station. One time, they brought in some Indian with the silly name "Brook." He tried to communicate with you, but you wouldn't go. Your tenacity, however, inspired him.

The last time you were there, the colonel decided to show you how to train people like you, but honestly, he also fell when he relaxed, thinking you'd obeyed because you stopped running and kicking, but he ultimately failed. And you and Brook escaped. You thought you'd return home, but then other Indians came and grabbed you, and Storm—Brook's horse—took him, and they took you to their settlement and put you in a separate pen.

They had horses in the settlement, but they were domesticated. Some even painted them with spots to distinguish them from other horses. But Storm was distinctive in its own right, with his coloring. They tied you to Storm, as if to "teach him," and you began to wander around the settlement. Some horses were painted with patterns, children sat on them, and while Storm was walking, you looked to the side and saw two horses that looked awfully like the foals from your herd, only they had feathers in their manes and a silly pattern.

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