My Dearest Fellow Equines,
As the sun climbs higher, bathing the Scottish highlands in a golden light, I find myself settled comfortably amongst the hay bales in our stable at Hayfield near Aberdeen. The gentle rhythmic breathing of my stable mates creates a peaceful harmony that lulls me into a moment of contemplation. And wouldn't you know it, the moment has brought a new entry to my Equine Chronicles: the year of our Lord, 1349.
Now, as a twenty-year-old grey draught horse with a mane and tail the colour of fresh snow, I've witnessed more than my fair share of changes in our world. It's the stories etched upon my hooves, the memories imprinted upon my spirit that I wish to share with you all.
This year has begun with an unsettling sense of disquiet in the air. We've all felt it, the whispers that flit amongst the fields and rustle in the breeze. Something is amiss. It's like a shadow creeping over the land, threatening the familiar rhythm of our lives.
The villagers here speak of "The Plague," a cruel sickness that strikes swift and strong, tearing through communities like a hungry wolf. We, the horses, have been spared for now, but our human companions seem burdened by worry and fear.
Despite the gloom that hangs heavy, the work on the fields continues, the land needing our steady strength and patient toil. We plow and sow, drawing carts piled high with harvest, knowing that every blade of grain helps keep our communities strong.
I hear the villagers murmur of the war that rages far south in France, a clash of Kings and Knights. Though far from the battlefield, its impact is felt here in Hayfield. The whispers speak of battles won and lost, of soldiers fallen and land lost. This year, we haven't seen as many travelling horsemen ride through our village. The horses of war are far from home, engaged in a struggle of iron and steel, leaving behind a vacuum in our world.
Yet, even in this time of turmoil, hope remains. The bond between us, horses and humans, has never felt stronger. The kindness in their eyes, the reassuring touch on our flanks, speaks volumes of their dependence on our strength, and we on their guidance. They know, as we do, that we must stand together, united in our resilience.
Amidst the anxieties, the fields bloom with a beauty that knows no despair. The wildflowers paint the meadows in a kaleidoscope of colour, inviting us to linger beneath the warmth of the summer sun. And the newborn foals frolic with reckless abandon, their joyous whinnies echoing the unwavering optimism that blooms in the heart of every living being.
My heart finds solace in these small wonders, these moments of pure joy. It's the strength we draw from nature's grace that helps us navigate the storm, it's the whispers of the wind and the murmur of the streams that remind us of the enduring beauty in this world.
And so, as the sun dips below the horizon, casting a blush of crimson across the sky, I find myself brimming with hope. We may face darkness, we may endure hardship, but the spirit of the horse endures. The strength in our hooves, the fire in our hearts, will carry us through any challenge, forging a path towards brighter tomorrows.
For we are the horses, the tireless companions of humanity. We are the symbol of resilience, the embodiment of hope, and in this tumultuous year, we remain unwavering in our love, our loyalty, and our unwavering dedication to our shared purpose.
Until next time,
Emma, the Highland Lass.
