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Emma Eismontaite

Emma Eismontaite


Total Article : 69

About Me:Hello! My name is Emma, and I'm fifteen. I do tennis as well as horse-riding. Also, I love Art and English, and have chosen to write stories because I love creative writing! x

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The Wild Horses

The Wild Horses

The Wild Horses

I’ve never seen anything so beautiful and intelligent as the wild horses I can see right now. I’m a field mouse, insignificant, quiet, inconspicuous and imperceptible.

     I’m in my little hidey-hole (my house), sleeping soundly and deeply, as I’m in the middle of my hibernation, as it’s winter and it’s snowing, when I hear a thump of hooves thundering on the ground in the distance. Very, very slowly and cautiously, I peep out of my home and carefully paw my way through the damp, snowy ground in the long, velvety ferns (which are very good for hiding in), padding towards the irritating noise.

     Let me just say, how close I was to being squashed into a mouse pie with little whiskers for toppings.

     I looked up, trembling in fright. But there was no need to be scared. Instead, it was a beautiful, majestic sight to see, with a small field mouse’s beady eyes. There, right in front of me was a huge herd of wild, different-coloured horses, galloping in one, big bunch of clacking hooves that thunder on the grassy ground.

     Their necks continuously swing back and forth, back and forth, their wavy, wild manes billowing out into the soft, night air. Their gentle eyes narrow with concentration and they snort out clouds of mist as their long, thin legs career in a tangle, bumping rhythmically, their tails stretching out like a cut piece of flying ribbon.

The Wild Horses | Kingsnews

     They bolt in a fantastic way, in a huddle, looking like a group of colours. There was hazelnut-brown, snowflake-white, ebony-black, beautiful cream, palomino, dun and strawberry roan.

     Normally horses wouldn’t leave their herds – but this one did.

     A small foal emerged, with long legs and a blue roan-coloured coat with dappled grey spots on his coat. He had three legs which were covered with wavy caramel-coloured hairs, but the odd one out had midnight-black hairs; he had a little star-shaped mark printed onto his forehead and he had inky-coloured hair for his tail and mane. Also, his snout was smothered with white and he had the most reassuring, shiniest, raven-black eyes that I have ever seen.

     I was amazed to see that a baby foal had left its group and family, but I was even more surprised when he didn’t trample on me straight away. Instead, he kindly nuzzled his hairy nose into my face and lay down next to me, protecting me from the strongly blowing wind. From then on I called him Nuzzles and when he grew up into a strong stallion and I had become bigger and not so inconspicuous, he and I had a few adventures of our own...






                                  To be continued.          


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