All in a Name

The grullo colt raced around the paddock that he and his mother were in that day. Ember was grazing nearby, an ear kept perked in his direction at all times. His mother was looking out for him, she was right there whenever he wanted some milk or even a little nuzzle. Right now though, he just wanted to race. The world outside their stall was big and exciting. There was green grass and bright flowers and bugs of all kinds. He could even see a few horses in a field across the way. They would sometimes neigh at him and his mother, but couldn’t get to them because of the fence. His mum said that they would get to meet them properly some day when he was older. But for now he was so excited to discover this big new world and all that it had to offer.

Oh, a figure was walking this way. The colt paused, ears perked as he watched the human slowly walk towards them. There were a lot of humans around and he was still getting used to being able to tell them apart, but he was fairly certain this one was new. He whinnied in greeting, giving a little kick as he pranced towards them.

Ember lifted her head, curious to see what her son was excited about. Upon seeing the human she spat out the grass and ran over to the fence. Following his mama, the colt ran after her. She nickered at the human, who reached up a hand to scratch her chin.

Seeing his mother get all the affection, the colt let out a shrill whinny. He wanted attention too.

The human laughed, a woman from what he was learning, and her name was Stacy. They often smelled different. This one liked a flowery smell. And sometimes looked different, but he still didn’t understand that. The humans all looked the same to him.

“Hello there,” she spoke in the funny voice language that humans had. “My aren’t you a handsome lad. You did well with this one, Ember.”

Ember snorted proudly. Of course she had.

The human offered the colt her hand and he stretched out his neck to sniff it. Then she touched his face. The colt let out a squeal and raced back to hide behind his mother. The woman laughed, the sound friendly and welcoming, giving him enough courage to peek out at her.

“I’ve been thinking of a name,” she said, patting Ember as she spoke. “He’s a spritely boy so far and his white markings remind me of birds, so I like the name Flight Risk for his official name, but for his barn name, I’m thinking of something more simple. He was born on that wild stormy night, and his grey coat matches the dark clouds, thus he could be called, Storm.”

Nickering, Ember turned to her son, Storm. He tilted his head, ears perked. Everyone else seemed to like it, so he did too. Prancing forward, he whipped his head back and forth ruffling his fluffy mane.

The woman laughed. “Our bright little light, even in the storm.”