We continue our story called “The Scars of a Friend” that tells what happens when ‘the broken’ are accepted rather than cast aside and forgotten. In our last post Azhar, the wealthy merchant was looking for the perfect horse to fill out his grand stable.

One morning, a huge three-masted ship with blood-red sails slipped through the mist and entered the harbor. A majestic stallion emerged from beneath the deck. The animal was restless after being confined and began to stomp his hooves and tug on the reins that were held tightly in his trainer’s hands.

The horse reared up on its hind legs and uttered a shrill whinny that pierced the damp air. The people on the wharf turned toward the sound. Through the fog they saw a horse quite unlike any they had ever seen before. It was dapple-gray with a jet-black mane and a tail that curled like ocean waves. It stood so tall that its obsidian hooves seemed to scrape the sky.

The trainer enlisted the help of a nearby sailor. The sailor grabbed hold of the bridle while the trainer gripped the reins. With great difficulty, the two men led the uneasy horse onto the dock and up the path toward the village.

When the horse sensed the openness of the market square, it lurched forward and broke free from the men’s grasp. The gray stallion charged through the village and galloped up the path that led to Azhar’s house.

When the stallion broke free, Azhar watched from the edge of his veranda. The horse raced up the path, its reins flapping in the air. Azhar could see the strength ripple through its muscles as his mighty hooves hammered against the earth. His keen gaze followed the horse as it rounded the bend and climbed the rocky incline toward his house. It showed no signs of stopping. Azhar took a deep breath and opened his doors wide. The horse bounded up the porch steps and bolted into the house.

In a whirlwind of fury, the stallion thrashed and kicked, smashing tables and splintering chairs. Azhar crept across the threshold and inched his way toward the horse. The horse snorted and stomped its foot. Azhar held his breath and did not move. When the stallion finally raised its head toward Azhar, the man tentatively stretched out his hand and gently stroked the horse’s velvety muzzle.

Azhar leaned over, caught the reins, and vaulted onto the horse’s back. He urged the stallion through the open doors and the horse leapt off the porch. Together they rode out onto the ridge that overlooked the sea. Azhar felt the echo of the surf in the hoof beats of the horse as it thundered across the ground. They left the path and rode into the wild hills. The horse never tired. Time disappeared for Azhar. He felt as if nothing in the world could harm him.

What will Azhar do with this wonderful horse?

Next time: “Wind Rider”