A cold wind blows as I turn my head towards the stables, five hundred yards away. The stable doors are open. Oh God!

The blood on the machete!

I start running. Running so hard I feel the rush of wind bite into my face. I stand at the threshold of the stables panting hard. I can already smell the fear and sweet smell of blood. I step into it. In disbelief. This cannot be happening. No way. Even as I turn my head to look in the first stall I refuse to believe it. Not animals. Not such beautiful, blameless animals.

Rubina lies dead in the first stall.

“No, no, no,” I mutter, running to the next stall. Jenny’s blood is slowly collecting in a thick pool of dark liquid under her head.

I turn to the next stall, horrified, unable to think, speak, rationalize.

Who would do this?

The monsters.

The unspeakable monsters!

Khan lies on his side. His eyes are open and his breath is labored, but he is not dead. His neck has been ripped open, the flesh raw and pink. He looks at me with his big shocked eyes. I rush to him and fall to my haunches. I cup my palms on either side of his face. My whole body is shaking with fury.

He makes a grunting sound of terrible pain.

“Shhhh … It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here now,” I say as I twist my hand hard. I hear his neck breaking. The life goes out of my friend instantly. His eyes stare vacantly. There is no more pain.

I stand up and walk to the next stall. Matilda, whom I have loved for the last eight years is dead. With my bare hands I break Riley’s neck. Then I go to Fey’s stall. I kept her for last because I didn’t want to see the destruction. Fey was pregnant. She was due to foal any day now. I take a deep breath and turn the corner.

Fey is lying very still on her side in a pool of blood, but a single straw next to her nose is moving gently. I rush to her side and drop to my knees next to her. Her eyes are glazed with shock. There is no recognition in them. She is almost gone. I kiss her face and whisper in her ear, “I love you. Hang on, I’ll save the little un for you.”

I run back to the house. Panting hard, I go to the kitchen and pull out the sharp meat knife from the wooden block. I grab rags from the cupboard. Then I sprint back to Fey’s stall.

“You did very well, Fey. Very well. I’m so proud of you,” I whisper before I break her neck.

As soon as I hear the crack I place the knife at the top of her belly and I slice her all the way down her underside. Hot blood pours out over my hands. I reach into her steaming organs and pull her womb out. I cut the sac and free the baby. I pull it out and it lies on the ground pale and still. Refusing to come to this cruel earth that took its mother away before it was even born.

Gently, I massage its limbs. “Come on, baby. Come on,” I plead to the tiny thing.

God knows how long I gently massage it, but finally I have to give up. I throw my head back and roar with fury. I look down at the still animal and I know rage like I have never known in my life. It is like a ball of fire in my belly. I will hunt every one of those men and I will rip their hearts out of their chests. They don’t deserve to live. They killed my horses. These blameless beautiful animals. I stand up and turn away.

As I take the first step I hear a slight rustling sound.

For a fraction of a second I freeze with astonishment. Then I turn around and look at the little foal. Its head is moving. It is trying to breathe! I drop down on my hands and knees and scoop it into my arms. I take it away to the place where it should have been born. There is fresh straw laid out there. It will be away from the stench of fear and blood. The first thing it sees will not be the gruesome sight of its mother with her guts ripped out of her. It will be me.

It’s mother, it’s father, it’s protector.

I lay it down gently and wait for it to slowly raise its head. Unsteadily, it does and tears start pouring out of my eyes. I remember once being angry with my father for destroying my mother’s life. If he had not left her she wouldn’t have become the sad drunk she was.

She laid her hands on my cheeks and said, “There is beauty even in ashes. Out of the ashes you came.”

“Welcome to the world, Phoenix,” I whisper brokenly.