I met it on the way to Medog.
Behind the Wrangler, it carried heavy things on its backs, only looking down on the road, stepping down one step at a time, not afraid to have a slight loss. It is in the huge caravan of the team, the body is not outstanding, and even the body is thin and weak, like a sick teenager. It is also very young and the gait is very slow. After the fat and strong horseshoes rang loudly, it still didn’t stop and looked up at them. The rain, as fine as salt, is scattered all the way. It may know that the road ahead is more dangerous, but it does not appear too anxious. The Wrangler is very anxious and will stop and wait for it in a few steps. Until all the horses had turned over the narrow ridge, it still followed the Wrangler without any slowness. The horses in front of them are already waiting in the safe mountain in the screaming of the Wrangler.
It was getting late, and I noticed that the Wrangler had passed from the front to the back of it. In other words, the Wrangler no longer waits for it, but protects it. The road ahead is indeed more and more dangerous, and the road is up, the rocks are all over, the thorns are clustered, and there are five kilometers from the narrow ridge. It has therefore gone even slower. Every time it takes a small step, it is very difficult. It has been smashed by the sleek stones of the hoof several times. Without the escort of the Wrangler, it must be planted in the rain. What is the reason why the Wrangler is so uneasy about a horse?
Closer, and then observe, the Wrangler at this time has some puzzling movements. From time to time, she used her palm to shoot left and right on her body. From the head to the buttocks, she could hear that she was particularly jealous and hard, and she clearly said what she was saying to her. Is she suspecting that it is going too slowly? Every time the Wrangler patted it, it stopped there steadily, his head buried low, and his nose rang from time to time, and a beautiful ponytail swayed gently in the wind. It seems that it is especially able to enjoy the comfort of the Wrangler.
The rain has been going down. Seeing it, it is necessary to cross the ridge. The Wrangler never worried that his horse would be lost. This is the unspoken rule between the horse and the Wrangler. There are too many wonderful tacit understandings between them. A look, an action, a whisper, a long tone, they can all communicate with each other, their relationship can even surpass parents and children. What happened later made me realize that there is a kind of emotion in this world that people cannot reach at all.
Although I walked along the road for dozens of miles, I never saw the face of the Wrangler because of the rain. Behind the horse and the Wrangler, it feels like they are the most trusted guide in this society. At the same time, I had a desire to look at the horse’s eyes. When I made this wish forward, something bad happened. A horse, a Wrangler, I, the three together through the narrow ridge of the moment, the horse suddenly lost weight in front of the hoof, squatting, banged and rolled down the hillside. Is it a sudden hope to see life flat? Along with the horse, there was a sigh of horror and weeping. While the Wrangler screamed, he trembled, his feet softened, he fell to the ground, and fluttered to it without hesitation. The cans on the horses rolled over the mountains. I rushed down the hillside, and the Wrangler held her head tightly against the horse’s face. She kept sobbing, and she sighed with sorrow. The rain fell into the still air, still could not see her face, and could not see the horse’s eyes.
All the horses stood up in a short distance, and their expressions showed that they had realized that things were not good, one by one, like a child who made a mistake, pulling his head and stepping closer to the Wrangler. At this time, the Wrangler slammed his head and snorted loudly. He suddenly put his head back on the horse’s face and burst into tears. The horses, in her screaming voice, turned their directions and rushed toward Medog.
I don’t know how long it took, the Wrangler stood up, looked at me, opened the steps, and chased her horse all the way. Almost in the blink of an eye, she left me with a bloody face. The memory of the rain, and her shackles like a shackle, the old red cap on the head. I kneel down and look at the horse’s eyes. I know that it has closed his eyes. I took my face, looked left, right, and the more I saw it, the more I panic. I saw a soft grasshopper swimming out of the horse’s eyes. Look at its back, legs, belly, mushroom-like small mass is not a long one, it is a slap in the air, one by one, the eyes are bursting, like a blossoming poisonous flower. I stood up and suddenly understood something. The real reason for its slowness all the way is the entanglement and troubles of the body being constantly attacked by grasshoppers. Think about the Wrangler’s face again. The grasshopper has already gotten into her body. She only pats the grasshopper for her horse and forgets to take care of her pain. The death of a horse will allow her to pay more hardships, labor, and long-term sadness in the small county town that is the only road in the country.
On the way to Medog, after bidding farewell to a horse, the sky completely closed in a dark manner. After dawn, I set off again and traveled from one place to another. No matter how many cliffs and darkness there were, I never stopped further and further struggle against the ideal goal. I warned myself: even if it hurts the most. The wounds must also be accompanied by the hardships of the horse.