Dia

Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it

I was out today. It was a wonderful day for a gallop. This running on the beach was a lot like the deserts of my youth. It felt good to dig each hoof into the soft sands and push off again. Of course, the best grip was along the shoreline where the heavier wet stuff made getting traction simple. I was rounding the shoreline when I spotted the golden body in motion. It was small and I increased my stride to catch up.

It was only foal, I could tell because catching up was simple and it only sprinted ahead. I hadn’t been here long. I hadn’t even met many other than Sahin and Mera through I could smell at least two other mares and another stallion. This child, its gold color clear, was somewhat exciting.

I slowed my pace and looked at the thin creature. I myself was thin, but that was more because of my breed. We were all lanky. I trotted forward and let out a welcoming call before I stood up next to the small boy.

“‘Ello dare,” I smiled at him. He was covered in sweat and panting a bit. “Can’ say Ah’ve seen ya roun’ ‘ere behfer. Ah’m Daha. Wha’s yer name, suga?” I smiled friendly. You know, I don’t think Satitba was ever as small as this colt was. Then again, my daughter was bigger than I was in more ways than one.