Trapped

This is a story I wrote for my English controlled assessment, which achieved an A*. I hope you like it. :)

Run. That's what he said. That's what I did.
Thud-thud-thud-thud. Thud-thud-thud-thud.
The thundering sound rang in my ears as it filled the air, mixed with the confusion of the past obnoxious incident.
Run. That's all that mattered now.
But I could still feel the sudden, frightening lurch that my stomach gave when I heard the deafening roar, and had been blinded by the bright flash of headlights. Blurred figures had jumped out of nowhere, and somewhere to my right, I had heard my father yelp in pain. And in his struggling desperation, he could only form one solitary word; run.
Faster, faster.
The trees rushing past were becoming a hazy blur. I blinked hard. I knew I had to focus.
But how could I focus when all that I could picture was my father; lying there, wounded, his legs splayed out on the ground in agony. It was unbearable to think about. But it tormented my mind.
A jolt of alarm snapped me back to reality, and I jumped reflexively, narrowly avoiding a collision with a vast log that had allegedly been recently cut.
I soared through the air in a smooth arc; arching my neck and keeping my front legs positioned collectively, while the breeze swept my long mane off my face. And quite unbelievably, I momentarily forgot about all of my troubles.
It was so tranquil ... so serene ...
And suddenly the ground was accelerating towards me. I landed, breathless from my jump, but I forced myself to keep galloping through the forest. I rounded yet another log as I continued on my tiresome journey which seemed to have no end.
Despite being back in the brutal reality, I suddenly felt a lot more focused and resolute. Undoubtedly, the leap had had some sort of soothing effect on me.
After swiftly re-adjusting to my surroundings, I glimpsed something in the distance. Straining my eyes, I fixed them onto the vague, secluded speck.
Constantly drawing closer, the pinpoint became more lucid, and bigger than a pinpoint. And in a brusque note of urgency, I could see what it was; a glimmering orange glow.
And, judging by the flickering quality of the light, I observed, thus it must be a fire.
My pace quickened. And in the instant of a heartbeat, I knew what I had to do. I had been running from danger for all of this time; it was now time to do some good.
Every ounce of my strength was applied to my speed. I raced through what seemed like an eternity. I was focused on nothing else.
Perhaps I could save at least one innocent life today.
At long last I had reached my destination. It was worse than I expected. Burning branches littered the ground, their flames intensifying every second. All the trees were ablaze around the outside of a small clearing. I could see the flames were starting to lick their way into the clearing, edging their way along the foliage and shrubbery.
And, between the blazing trees, I could scarcely make out something in the centre of the clearing; silhouetted against the intense inferno.
Dodging out of the way as another flaming branch crashed to the ground, I steadily cantered through the trees and came out from an opening at the side of the clearing.
Once I was actually there, it was even smaller than I had thought it looked from the outside.
The figure lying down in the centre of the glade happened to be a young pony; a foal, and a very frightened one at that.
It looked even more alarmed at the sight of me, arriving in the fashion I had.
I slowly approached the little foal, with my head bent low to show that I was a friend.
"Hello," I said mellifluously. "I'm sorry �" I didn't mean to startle you."
The foal looked up at me with unblinking eyes, fear dancing quite plainly in them.
"I want to help you," I continued reassuringly. "We can't stay here. We have to get out."
The foal continued to gaze at me uncertainly, as he struggled to find his voice.
"I c-c-can't," he muttered miserably, in a timid and hesitant voice. "M-my parents told me t-to remain here. Besides, I-I can't move..."
His voice trailed away in such a disheartening way that a wave of desperation washed over me.
"Why can't you move? Are you hurt?" I enquired in great concern.
The foal shook his small head sadly.
"I d-don't have any physical injuries. However, I shan't go running through fire. I am, alas ... afraid." The foal admitted reluctantly, his voice extensively filled with sorrow, and I couldn't help suspecting that a hint of resentment for himself had seeped in, too.
If the situation hadn't been so tense and severe, I would have marvelled at the foal's impressive manner of speech. But time was limited, and the enclosing fire had very nearly reached us.
"I know you're scared," I pressed on gently, "And as am I, but we can't let that stop us. If we stay here, the fire is going to get us anyway. We may as well try."
The foal then bowed its head, as though in regret. "I suppose there is some logic to your reasoning."
"Good!" I breathed with relief, contented with myself. "Now then, stand up �" carefully, mind �" that's it."
The foal managed to feebly stand up, its legs still shaking from its terror.
He took a tentative step forwards.
"Will you be able to move quickly?" I asked.
The foal nodded apprehensively.
"Alright, then, stay right behind me. I'll try to choose the safest route." I warned him with delicacy. "Are you ready?"
He nodded again, more bravely this time. "Ready," he confirmed.
"Right," I said, taking a deep breath. "Follow me."
I saw an aperture in the trees and lunged for it, hoping that the foal was pursuing me closely. I knew I had to be even more cautious �" I couldn't make a last-minute dive if I knew a branch was about to fall. No, I had to be much more prudent.
As I lightly cantered through the smouldering forest, with a variety of diverse thoughts and worries filtering through my head, I spurred on around logs, and made sure I kept away from areas that contained many burning branches overhead, which were quite a challenge to elude.
I finally reached a safe patch of woodland that was away from flames. I turned abruptly, and I was relieved to see the little foal trotting towards me, although I noticed that he was still wearing his distressing expression.
"Are you okay?" I asked anxiously.
The foal looked at me in exasperation.
"No, I am not okay." He answered heatedly, with a trace of cynicism shadowing his voice. "First I was left alone, then this wretched fire started, and then I betrayed my father's word because I followed an unknown horse to what she claimed safety and �" and �" quite frankly, I don't know who you are."
By this time, the foal was apoplectic with rage, and I didn't want to infuriate him any further.
"Listen, I helped you for a good reason," I said rationally. "And, I apologise for our late introduction. My name is Mia. What's yours?"
I knew I had won him over.
He hesitated, before reluctantly replying, in his usual respectable tone, "My name is Jasper. And I apologise for my emotive outburst," he added. "It was, in no way, intentional."
"No need to worry." I said comfortingly.
And that's when the realisation of what Jasper had said dawned on me.
"Jasper, before you said something about being left alone, and breaking a promise to your father. Was that true?"
"Moderately, yes," he said, vacillating whether to tell the story in full or not.
"My parents told me to stay here. They were going to decide where we were going to go next," he explained. "I watched them head out, before..." he shuddered suddenly. "Before I heard this loud rumble. It sounded like an engine. And, although I was hidden among the trees, I could see dazzling luminosity surround my parents. A van came into sight. I didn't see what happened, b-but, I heard shouts, a-and I saw shadowy figures luring them into w-what l-looked like a big dark hole..."
His voice trailed off shakily, lapsing us into an awkward silence for several seconds.
I couldn't think of a thing to say.
But then I saw Jasper composing himself and, in a much more dignified voice, he added, "That all happened a couple of days ago. I've been alone ever since �" and I've been coping just fine. But I-I want them to come back."
As he finished his account, another hush fell, although it didn't stay for long.
"Oh, Jasper, I'm so sorry," I whispered. "My parents were taken, too. But it's going to be all right. I mean, we've got each other and �""
But at that moment, I suddenly broke off. I had heard a very distant sound through the rustling of the leaves and the loud crackling of the fire; a constant chugging sound and a low grumbling, and although it was faint, I could distinguish it quite well.
It closely resembled the sounds when my parents had been taken.
"Get back!" I cried out urgently. "Quick! We need to hide."
I retraced some of our steps and made cover behind a small cluster of tightly-packed trees.
Jasper didn't need telling twice. He appeared at my side approximately half a second after I got there. I guessed that he had recognised the source of the noise as well.
And sure enough, as we stayed there, gasping to get our breath back and glancing between the cracks in the trees, I saw a huge white box on six wheels materialise before my very eyes. It was longer than its width and had small windows slatted in the sides and a big door at the back. I knew what it was; it came from the world of Man, where they called it a 'trailer'.
Pain crossed over me from head-to-toe; the thump-thump-thump of my heartbeat throbbed throughout my entire body in its seemingly wild aspiration to escape.
I was panic-stricken, and there wasn't a way to cure my focus now. It was over. I had suffered all the loss and the fear and the bravery and the sympathy, and I had to endure watching my parents get taken, and the mad run through the forest, and the fire in which I had saved a most innocent, sweet, young foal, but to realise that it was over. We were going to be taken. This was it.
But that never happened.
In fact, quite the contrary occurred. Once the trailer had rolled to a halt, more than a few feet away, I glimpsed another look at my inevitable, sickening destiny.
And I realised for the first time that there was writing on the side of the trailer. After tilting my head this way and that, I had managed to make out the words, "Equine Ranch. The national rescue of homeless and injured horses in the wild."
And then I knew that this was my destiny. But not a bad one. A wonderfully delightful one.
And, before I could take any second thoughts, I slowly brought myself away from our cover, and walked towards the immense trailer, just as two uniformed women opened their doors and stepped out into the vibrant, smoke-filled air, unaware that an eager horse in plain view and a terrified foal in adequate hiding were awaiting their attentiveness.