Down and Out

He is one of the new litter colts tossed up by this brick-and-hoagie town ten miles by train from a city of one million. For the first several years they have been home foals, Cheese Sandwich and others, fenced in by the walls and backyard chain link and, mostly, by the sound of Mother's voice.

Then comes the day when they stand alone on their front steps, blinking and warming in the sun like pups of a new creation.

At first Cheese shades his eyes. Then he lowers his hoof. He squints into the sun, tries to outstare the sun, turns away thrilled and laughing. He reaches back to touch the door. It is something he will never do again. In his ears echo the thousand warnings of his mother: "Don't leave the yard."

There are no other constraints. Not a fence in sight. No grownup hoof to hold. Nothing but the bright wide world in front of him.

He lands on the road with all four hooves and takes off. Heedless of all but the wind in his ears, he runs. He cannot believe how fast he is running. He cannot believe how free he is. Giddy with freedom and speed, he runs to the end of the block, turns right and runs on.

His legs-- his legs are going so fast! He thinks that if they go any faster he might begin to fly. A Pegasus in the air is coming from behind. He races the Pegasi. He is surprised that the Pegasus passes him. Surprised but not unhappy. He is too free to be unhappy. He waves at the Pegasus. He stops and looks for somepony to laugh with and celebrate with. He sees no one, so he laughs and celebrates with himself. He stomps up and down on the sidewalk as if it's a puddle.

He looks for his house. It is out of sight. He screams into the never-blinking sun: "Yahoo!" He runs some more, turns right again, stops again. It occurs to him turning right he can run forever.

"Yahoo!"