Saving Hope

The valley was warm and bright. Everything was in full bloom, green and luscious. Flowers of all shapes, colors, and sizes were vibrant and healthy. The May weather was perfect. When I got down to the bottom, everything was quiet; no birds chirped, no frogs croaked in the pond on the other side of the valley. Then it happened. Chance quivered beneath me, or at least, I thought it was him at first. But the shuddering became much too violent for a horse to make. I noticed pebbles cascading down a short cliff off to the far side of the valley. The flowers began to shake fervently, and I heard Chance let out a short grunt of surprise, and maybe a little panic. My brain was in slow-mo. What is going on? An alarmed whinny broke my haze. No horse I knew made that same sound. It sounded sharp and high-pitched, like the sound a fiddle makes when the musician let the bow slip and an extra note rang out off-key. I glanced around, trying to pinpoint where the sound had come from. Crack. There was a loud rumbling sound, then a squeal of alarm from the mysterious creature. I started to panic. I had to help the poor animal. “Come on, Chance. We have to hurry,” I told him as I urged him toward the place where I heard the sounds. We rounded the corner of a gigantic boulder, and I gasped. What I saw in front of me was terrible. About twenty feet ahead, a gorgeous, dappled-gray mare lay on her side. Her leg was wedged between an old log and a massive rock. She tried her best to struggle free but had no leverage. The mare’s eyes were the worst part. They were white with terror and confusion. She squealed again sadly, desperately trying to get up but falling again. Soon the mare might get hurt even worse. I had to get her free.