Our story, called “The Scars of a Friend”, tells what happens when ‘the broken’ are accepted rather than cast aside and forgotten. In our last post Azhar  named his new stallion “Wind Rider.” Where will this beautiful beast take him?

One evening, Azhar and Wind-Rider were returning home after a long business trip. Wind-swept clouds sailed across the moon’s full face. Azhar decided to take a shortcut through the forest because they had been riding for most of the day.

Moonlight edged through the tangle of trees as Azhar guided Wind-Rider along the patch where shadows flickered wildly. Suddenly, six robbers carrying spears and knives jumped out from behind the trees. Three were on horseback and three were on foot. Two of the men rushed forward and tried to grab Wind-Rider by the bridle. When Wind-Rider felt a stranger’s hand on his bridle, he reared up, slashing the air with his huge hooves as Azhar held tight to the reins. His hooves smashed into the thieves and knocked them to the ground.

Another bandit ran toward the horse with his spear raised. Wind-Rider rushed right at him and toppled the outlaw with his huge, broad chest. Aware that the trees held danger, the stallion dashed forward and began to race through the forest. The mounted thieves pursued Azhar and his horse, but they were no match for Wind-Rider.

Sweating and out of breath, Wind-Rider reached the safety of the stable yard. Azhar quickly dismounted, but when he did, he saw that his faithful steed had been wounded. A horrible gash lay acorss the animal’s left flank. Blood pured out of the cut, streaming down its leg and matting the horse’s tail.

Azhar bellowed out for the stable master to come quickly. When he arrived, Azhar wailed, “Look at my horse. You must do something!” Azhar stood off to one side as the stable master tenderly washed and dressed the horse’s wound. He recounted the terrifying details of the evening’s events.

“You owe your life to this horse!” replied the stable master. Azhar stretched out on the straw in Wind-Rider’s stall to sleep but he could not close his eyes, for the night was punctuated by the pain-filled whinnies of his wounded steed. In the pale morning light, Azhar arose. He stared at his horse’s marred flank and shuddered.

How will Azhar treat his wounded horse?

Next time: “What Azhar Lost”