“And the only sound in the empty snow-covered valley was my own breathing and the rattling shriek of my dying mare who lay yards away from me.
I'm not sure I had my reason. I'm not sure the things that went through my mind were thoughts. I wanted to drop down in the snow, and yet I was walking away from the dead wolves towards the dying horse.
As I came close to her, she lifted her neck, straining to rise up on her front legs, and gave one of those shrill trumpeting pleas again. The sound bounced off the mountains. It seemed to reach heaven. And I stood staring at her, staring at her dark broken body against the whiteness of the snow, the dead hindquarters and the struggling forelegs, the nose lifted skyward, ears pressed back, and the huge innocent eyes rolling up into her head as the rattling cry came out of her. She was like an insect half mashed into a floor, but she was no insect. She was my struggling, suffering mare. She tried to lift herself again.
I took my rifle from the saddle. I loaded it. And as she lay tossing her head, trying vainly to lift herself once more with that shrill trumpeting, I shot her through the heart.
Well this was a fail. I joined all the failures together. I especially like the last one, because it was like 8am & the cleaner who I chat with walked down the corridor & saw/heard me & exclaimed happily “Oh! It’s Tuesday!” And laughs. I don’t know if you can hear her. Anyway, I stood stock still & silent for a bit & smiled for her… (she might have come in the room as she sometimes does) BUT I had been trying to play music for a dying horse & she was like “Ooohhhh, HAPPYYYY!” 😭💀🫠🫥