Each inhale stung his lungs. Not a single inch of his body felt warm. He felt like a walking corpse. Cold, stiff and a monster. Something the world shunned and had turned its back on a long time ago. His hairs begin to freeze in the moonlight as he rose from the icy waters of the ocean. The swim nearly killed the colt. He is exhausted and thin. Battered, broken and scared. Clinging to what hope he had left that things would change. Things would get better. Though it was becoming harder and harder to see any light at the end of the tunnel.

But still he fights to survive. It was one of his only redeeming qualities.

He makes it to the grass, far from the sandy shore and the crashing waves. There was already snow patches and the ground felt just as bad as the stinging air and the sea. His legs give out from under him and he collapses, a huge grunt escaping from his lips as he does so. Just some rest. Just for a little while. And then what? He was wandering aimlessly. He had nowhere to go and no one missing him. Maybe I'll walk until I fall over and die. That thought saddens him, but he fights back the tears.

The dried blood on his face begins to itch, just as it had for days. He rolls onto his side and begins to scratch the side of his face into the grass. There is a wound on his neck, swollen and red with infection. A bite mark from another horse. There was nothing that could numb that, and he fights to ignore it.

As he lays there, motionless (no longer scratching his face) and freezing, Governor doesn't realize his life was about to change even more. I have seen Hell. Now it haunts me. Make the pain end. Please, make it stop.