Welcome, dear readers, to my little corner of EquiWorld! It's Emma here, your resident grey draught mare from the bonnie highlands of Hayfield near Aberdeen. I might be a bit on the elderly side these days (20 years old is getting up there!), but my memory is still sharp as a tack. And so, I thought I'd share a bit of my perspective on life in the year 790.
This year, as always, we horses play a pivotal role in the lives of our human companions. While my sturdy brethren carry the weight of daily labour – hauling carts, tilling fields, transporting goods – I find myself often pulling the beautiful, new timber-framed wagons that the Vikings bring with them. They're rather fond of our breed, the sturdy Scottish draught horses, and say they can handle the tough terrain better than their own steeds. I must admit, these Viking wagons are a sight to behold – they are much grander than the traditional wooden ones, and the fine craftsmanship, adorned with carvings and symbols, almost makes me forget my aches and pains.
As for life in Hayfield, things haven't changed too much. The seasons cycle by, bringing with them the familiar rhythm of our lives. We enjoy the lush, green grass of summer and the satisfying crunching of snow under our hooves during winter. The scent of barley and oats always fills the air at harvest time, which fills my tummy with warmth and satisfaction. The young foals of the village gambol about, testing their legs, and our senior horses share stories of bygone days with wise, crinkly noses.
This year, though, something feels different. We have all heard murmurs, hushed conversations whispered amongst the humans. Talk of "foreigners" arriving, of fire and fear. It seems that far to the south, an island called "Lindisfarne" has been attacked. People say they arrived on strange, swift ships, dressed in fur and wielding axes that shimmered like cold steel. It makes my hair stand on end, even though it’s usually neatly plaited by my kind human, Maggie.
It worries me, this news. It’s like a shiver of wind blowing through the trees, bringing a feeling of change, of something unknown on the horizon. While the world outside my meadow seems to be stirring with anxiety, we in Hayfield continue our peaceful lives, thankful for the warm sun and the quiet comfort of the heather-scented hills.
Speaking of our heather-scented hills, the meadows here have always been a magnet for wild horses, roamed by free spirits with coats as wild as the wind itself. These majestic creatures are not always the most agreeable of company, known for their wild streak and strong independence. This year, however, their presence brings a touch of unease. Whispers abound that these wild stallions are growing in number, and their behaviour is becoming bolder. Some say their freedom has instilled in them a wild ambition, driving them to the very edge of civilization.
I've encountered a few of these free spirits myself. Some are elegant, swift animals, the very definition of beauty and power. Others are more cautious, observing our lives with a glint of curiosity in their eyes. Despite my strong constitution, I must admit, their wild ways leave me filled with a mixture of fear and fascination.
The arrival of a travelling horse trader named Alistair a couple of months ago also stirred things up. He came riding on a powerful chestnut stallion with a mane like a black river. This fellow spoke of lands far beyond our shores, of tournaments and contests, of bravery and strength.
As he rode through the meadows, a sense of excitement bubbled through me. Maybe life could hold more than just hauling wagons and working in the fields. It could be more than just following the same routine day after day. He told stories of horses of great courage, galloping across plains and mountains, winning prizes for their bravery and grace. But most importantly, he shared tales of a "Grand Hunt," a vast and prestigious event happening across the seas, in the land called Francia. There, horses were chosen for their bravery, speed, and loyalty. Imagine, winning such a prestigious title! To become part of history, to earn the admiration of humans and other horses alike!
Now, I may not be the fastest horse in the world, nor the strongest. But my quiet, strong temperament is invaluable in a draught horse, I know. This news, however, left me with a burning ember in my heart. What if I were meant for more than just hauling wagons? What if I could be part of something grand?
Despite the uncertainty, I feel an exciting shift in the air. My human Maggie even jokes, with a twinkle in her eye, that the world beyond our little village feels "unhinged". The wild horses and the stories of brave feats make me realize that even our humble life holds a world of its own. Every morning I wake up, it's an adventure, filled with the simple joys of being a horse: grazing on sun-drenched fields, feeling the wind rustle my mane, the warm glow of a human's touch. I don't know what the future holds. It's uncertain, just like the swirling clouds in the sky. But perhaps this change, this whispering wind of change, is an opportunity. Perhaps it's time for me to write a new chapter in my own history, one that reflects my own hopes and dreams.
Stay tuned, my dear EquiWorld readers. This grey mare is ready for adventure.
Until next time, Emma, from Hayfield.
