Free The Black Stallion and the Lost City by Steve Farley Page A

ago.
    The stallion moved slowly into the darker shadow of the passageway. Inside, the sound of the wind ceased. Strands of sunlight filtered through the leaves above and cast shifting patterns of light and shadows on the ground before him. After a few moments, the path opened upon a grassy pasture. The Black followed the scent upwind to a small stream. He stood still beside it, his nostrils flared, his ears cocked. There was a faint sound of splashing ahead, beyond a stand of trees.
    Following the course of the stream through the trees, the stallion came upon a small pool. His eyes widened as he finally beheld what the signs in the wind had told him were there. It was four mares. Three were splashing about and playing in the water along the streambed. And grazing on the bank of the pool was the magnificent albino beauty he had first seen at the waterfall. She was big, lean but muscular, with a long, arched neck. Her head was small, her eyes large and wide-set. The Black stood silent and watched as the breeze riffled her high-set tail and the snow-white mane fringing her slender neck.
    The albino sensed him well before the other mares. She suddenly became alert and raised her heada notch. Then she froze, blades of grass still stuck between her lips, her thick forelock falling down to her eyebrows. In the pool, the other mares were still unaware of the stallion’s presence downwind. The albino stared straight at the Black, but she did not cry out or make any effort to warn her sisters of the stallion’s arrival.
    The Black announced himself with a loud snort. The mares in the pool stopped their playing and turned to him. He remained still and watched them, dazzled by their extreme loveliness. The band of mares looked back at him, then at each other in amazement at the sudden appearance of the stranger. With frightened cries, the three ran from the pool into the woods, but the albino remained.
    The stallion waited, but she did not make a move to follow the others. She was plainly unafraid of the Black. Her tail swished angrily as she stared back at this unwelcome intruder who had spoiled her afternoon.
    The Black stayed where he was. He knew that in the wild, where there was a band of mares, there would also be a stallion nearby. Moments later, the band returned, but this time they were led by a young stallion with a pale gray coat.
    The Black whistled a warning and waited for the inevitable. He felt no fear. His body began to tremblein anticipation of the battle that was to come. It was not his first, and he knew what to expect. His courage and cunning would see him through this fight as they had many times before.
    The young gray stallion screamed his challenge, throwing his head and tossing his mane. Then he broke into a run and charged to the pool, making a show of his speed and strength. The Black watched him, content to let the other stallion make the first move. The gray shrilled again, yet there was something uncertain in the sound of his cries. His long-limbed stride fell unsteady. The anxious gray broke his charge, slamming to a stop beside the mare on the far side of the stream leading to the pool. His red-rimmed eyes flashed and bulged in their sockets as he glared at the black stranger silently waiting for him.
    All at once, the gray turned his attention to the albino mare, warning her of their danger with squeals and snorts. When she did not heed his commands, he swung his hindquarters around, lashing the air with his hooves. She sidestepped the blow, then with a savage cry, lifted her forefeet to trample the ground between them.
    The enraged gray stallion whirled toward the Black and stood battle ready, his nostrils flared, his ears pinned against his head. There was no turning back for him now. Behind him, the band of maresclustered together for protection, watching and waiting for the fight to come.
    The gray rocked back on his haunches and sprang forward. This time he leaped over the stream and made a headlong