A Falling Ember

Attack

Birch and I meet under the grove of trees to discuss the move.
"I dunno, Ember, this is kinda scary," Birch nickers. I snort.
"Scary? Ha! This is gonna be the most fun we've ever had! I'm tired of this valley!" We canter back to the group.
"Are we leaving yet?" I ask excitedly. Mother tells me to be quiet. I neigh indignantly and turn around, giving her a nice view of my fuzzy grey rump. She nips it and I squeal angrily. Moms.
I soon get my wish though; Father trumpets from across the valley and I gallop over to him, keeping a respectful distance from those big black hooves.
"We shall go now! Follow me!" He neighs proudly. I run back to mother and the mares, herding them over to father.
"Come on!" I call. I try to trumpet like father, proud and powerful, and it comes out as a cough. Maybe I'm not ready to lead the herd yet. I trot back to Birch sheepishly.
The herd starts to move toward an immense snow capped mountain. As we get closer I catch a glimpse of a brushy plain ahead. I have a faint memory of being in it when I was very little and I wish I remembered more. I look to my side and see mothers grey flank next to mine. I am almost as tall as her now! I push at her neck with my muzzle affectionately, and she snorts happily. I am surrounded by horses, and I need some space so I run ahead to the front of the herd.
Soon we are out of the valley. The sun in the sky is as high as my spirits as we canter past tall pines, rolling hills and forests filled with bird chatter. I don't know where we are going, but I know that wherever it is, there are going to be new adventures of all kinds.
"Hey Ember, wait up!" Birch runs up beside me. I nicker and slow down a little so we can talk.
"Isn't this awesome?" I exclaim.
"Yeah," she answers. "But I'm tired." I nip her neck. She is always tired. I, on the other hand, am bursting with adrenaline. I looked back. Most of the herd was behind us. Father, of course, was in front.
Aieeeeeeeeee!
An eerie screech rings out through the prairie. I press closer to Birch. It sounds like a scream.
"What was-" my question is cut short by a mare's shrill cry behind me. I whirl around. There, staring at me with wild yellow eyes, is a mountain lion. I neigh fiercely at it and rear on my hind legs.
It bares it's teeth, and I get the feeling that it is not smiling. I remember something that mama too me long ago. The predator always goes for the weakest horse in the herd. I'm not weak! It leaps at me. I turn and run, but soon it's piercing claws rake my back. I cry out in pain. In the corner of my eye I see the herd's wide eyes. They are huddled in a circle.
"Help me!" I shriek. Father is nowhere in sight. The world is flashing by me as I run. I buck and buck but the cat has a grip of iron. It yowls and then- it is gone.
I fall to the ground in an exhausted heap. The trees around me sway. Then I jerk my head up. Father! There he is. The mountain lion lies on the ground before him. Father rears above it, beating his hooves down again and again next to the cat. Finally, it scrambles up and flees into the trees. My head flops to the ground.
Don't mess with wild horses.