We left Fort Teton before dawn. The first sign that something was wrong was the sunrise.

I'm a horse--a Morgan horse, to be specific, like the rest of my comrades. My name is Sergeant Greyfell. I was the leader of this company, and my human, Sergeant Rigbee, was the leader of the humans. Four of us were sent out on this patrol to make sure no Indians raided the fort during the night. The humans said they had black magic. I don't know what's wrong with the color black, since that's the color of my coat, but I do love my humans. They said the strangest things.

We also had one horse with us who was not a Morgan: Ace of Hearts, a tall dapple-gray mare who belonged to the company's cartographer. She was a new addition to Fort Teton, from a faraway place by the water where humans lived in stables that stretched to the sky. Although she was bred to withstand the cold, she knew nothing about climbing, or swimming, or which mountain grasses tasted the best. She stepped high and daintily, and her human held on to the reins with both hands. Neither of them were suited to this land.

The sun rose blood-red in the sky, lighting up a valley filled with fog. My nostrils flared. The fog smelled strange, oppressive. Perhaps this was the black magic that Sergeant Rigbee spoke of? He pressed more tightly into the saddle, hoping I would not buck. Of course, I was too well-trained to fear this haze.

But the sun was not the only thing rising, as we soon found out.

From the other direction of the sun, another blood-red light appeared over the ridge. I finally understood: fire.

The flames spread quickly through the lodgepole pines, jumping downhill from one to another like a burning tide washing the mountainside clean. Sergeant Rigbee spurred me in the opposite direction. We were going to have to run.

Ace immediately bolted, the instincts taking over as she ran at full speed away from the fire. Her rider tried to stay on her back, but the full gallop was too much for him. He was flung against a tree trunk, blood leaking from a crack in his neck. I shuddered.

I looked to the other three Morgans, my company, whose ears flattened against their heads as their eyes rolled back and dilated. They were terrified, and I couldn't blame them, but we had to stay calm for our humans' sakes. "Don't panic," I nickered, even as I felt the primal instinct to run building inside me. "If we lose connection to our humans, we lose everything. Follow my lead, and for heavens' sake, breathe."

Seconds after I finished speaking, Monte bucked his rider and bolted. The human fell, his blue coat staining with dirt and mud. Just a few yards down, the horse tripped over a log in his panic and fell as well. He neighed, a terrified sound that was drowned out by the flames.

I looked back at him. We locked eyes. One of my company, my horses, was about to die a fiery death. I couldn't let that happen.

Sergeant Rigbee tried to spur me away, but I wheeled around too fast. His grip on the saddle slipped and he fell. I now faced a choice: my human, who I loved, or my horse soldier, who I was duty-bound to protect? I knew what Sergeant Rigbee would say: A true leader puts their followers before themselves.

I didn't get to choose. The flames came too fast, their heat singing the hair on my coat even from several dozen yards away. I couldn't stay. I couldn't pick anyone up and hope to escape. So I ran like a coward from the coming blaze, letting my training dissipate as the instincts of an ancient horse--the drive to run from danger as fast as possible--overtook me.

Some sergeant I was. I couldn't even lead my followers to safety.

Halfway across the valley, I realized I had no idea where I was going. I didn't know where Fort Teton was, or how to get there. Good job, Ace of Hearts. Really great going there, throwing off the one human who knew these mountains better than anyone else.

I wasn't a cavalry horse, not like the Morgans from the fort. I was descended from warmbloods, draft horses, who weren't known for their ability to handle heat or run fast. What we were known for was stamina, the ability to keep going, so that's what I did. I ran up the ridge until there were no more trees around me, panting heavily. My lungs felt like they were going to give out, not just from the climb, but from the smoke in the air. But if there were no trees, there would be nothing for the fire to burn. Or so I hoped.

My legs collapsed. I don't usually rest lying down, not even when I sleep, but this was an exception because I was so tired. I looked down at the valley below, hoping to see the flags at the fort, but all I saw was smoke. Even above the fire, I felt heat and smoke burning my thick coat. I missed my human's brush, his hoof picks cleaning out the space inside my hooves. My hooves were definitely full of dirt now.

Suddenly, I realized I would have to stay out here all day. Here, with no oats or corn or sawdust to sleep on. Just some scraggly grass and stone. This was a nightmare. I neighed as loud as I could, hoping another horse would hear me.

And glory be, another horse did hear me. One of the Morgans had survived the fire, and he plodded down the ridge just below. I trotted towards him, slipping on stones, but somehow managing to keep my balance. I recognized the white mark on his forehead and the scorched saddle he still wore. It was the sergeant of the company--without his human.

"Sergeant!" I whinnied excitedly. "Just the horse I was hoping to see! Do you know the way back to Fort Teton?"

He flattened his ears a bit at my approach. "Ace of Hearts," he snorted. "Coward. You left your human to die to save yourself."

"And where is your human?" I asked teasingly.

At that, he reared up, and I got the feeling I may have said something wrong. "At least I tried," he said grimly. "At least I thought of someone else before myself."

"At least you're alive," I countered. "Cheer up! We won't die now. We'll be back at the fort, and there will be apples and oats and--"

"I don't know the way back to the fort, Ace," the sergeant said. "I will try my best to protect you out here, because you're part of my company too, but I admit that we're lost. So you would do best to be a bit less dainty and a bit more dignified."

Silently, we watched the fire burn through the valley. Somewhere down there was Jeffries, my human, who I had abandoned at the first sign of danger. He and his family had loved me, brushed my coat, taught me dressage and shown me off to all the other humans in the city I came from. Somewhere, the other humans in that family dreamed of the day we both returned from the mountains, and I owed it to them to make half that dream come true.

"I can be plenty dignified if I want to be," I resolved. "Let's go."

I am a horse of the mountains, a painted horse with the agility to leap across crags and gullies. I am Dandelion of Flower Valley Herd, and I am a survivor. I must have been, to survive the red, burning light that reduced shrubs to ash and trees to husks.

None of that mattered anymore as I stood in the wreckage of my herd's valley, looking at what had once been our meadow. My herd was gone. Perhaps they had escaped, following Coneflower and Columbine, the lead mare and stallion, down to the river. That's what I would have done, if I were in the meadow when the fire struck.

But I was not in the meadow. I was on the ridge, playing with Fireweed at which of us could jump higher. Then he ran off to wash his face after it got covered in mud, and he didn't return as I watched the fire take the whole valley. I shouldn't have been playing on the ridge. They always told us not to play on the ridge. I should have been in the valley with my herd as the disaster struck. But I was alone.

I don't like being alone. I like having other horses around me, horses to play with, talk to, graze with. I lowered my nose to the ashes and tried to smell any trace of the flowers that had once lined these fields, but there was only smoke.

My herd. I needed my herd. I needed Columbine and Coneflower and Lupine and Daisy. The ash hurt to walk across, so I stood in the same spot for a while. Then I heard the sounds of other horses.

I took off at a full run towards the horses, neighing a greeting. It was a black stallion and a gray mare, but to my disappointment, they were not Flower Valley Herd. They wore saddles. Human horses. Disgusting I tried to get out of there before they noticed me.

"Hello there!" the mare whinnied. "You've got a very beautiful coat!"

Well, chestnuts. She was right, though. I turned back towards them. "Have you seen my herd?" I asked.

The stallion tilted his head. "No, but we haven't been looking for them. We're looking for our fort." I realized, then, that I had never seen a horse with a saddle but no human before. I understood some of what these two were going through.

I was going to regret this, but I didn't want to be alone right now. Bad enough to be separated from everyone I had ever known. So I trotted toward the two human horses. "If you're looking for your fort, and I'm looking for my herd, maybe we can travel together?"

The mare tossed her head in excitement. The stallion looked from her to me. "It would be most advantageous," he said at last. "You are more familiar with the mountains than we are, and we can provide safety in numbers. I'm Sergeant Greyfell, and this is Ace of Hearts. What's your name, wild filly?"

"Dandelion," I said. "Of Flower Valley Herd." What would my herd think if they knew I was trusting two saddled horses? They would understand. They would know that mountain horses always find a way to survive.

Still, I had no intention of staying with the saddled horses for long. Humans were not to be trusted, and horses that carried them were little better. Humans had already taken so much from my herd--land, colts, dirtying our river with their gold pans--and if I found a way to take something back, perhaps I would.

Just as she promised, Dandelion proved an excellent navigator of the mountains. She guided us down the ridge carefully, silently showing us the best places to step without slipping on the loose gravel beneath our hooves. I will admit I looked down nervously during the descent, carefully guiding every step into position. I was trained to march far without slowing down, but that was on flatter, easier land than this. I had seen horses in the infirmary who slipped and fell. Not many came back out.

"Greyfell!" Ace whinnied. "Look at the mountains beyond the valley! The blue light shines from the sky like turquoise on a ropeman's belt buckle!"

"Please call me Sergeant," I snapped, flattening my ears. Only my humans called me Greyfell. Even my soldiers, my trusted friends who I shared my stables with, only called me by my given name when we were off duty. Right now, as far as I was concerned, we had a mission to complete and I was going to stay focused.

And yet I did stop a moment to look up at the mountains. I saw the blue light the warmblood spoke of, but it brought me little comfort.

Dandelion jogged up next to Ace. "Do you see the white around the peaks?" she neighed. "Snow."

"Not possible," the warmblood answered. "Snow is only for cold times. How can there be snow in the height of the sun season?"

"It is snow!" Dandelion insisted. She flicked her tail playfully at Ace, who was almost half again her size. The gray horse stamped her feet in response. I watched them whinny together but did not engage. While some of my soldiers may have claimed I don't enjoy fun, I really just know my limitations. If the sergeant of a company isn't mission-focused and disciplined, how can he expect his followers to do the same when the time comes?

I stole another brief glance at the mountains. Across the valley were a pair of peaks that stood straight up like a horse's ears, with a rough and snowy ridge between them like the forelock. I recognized these mountains from my pasture at Fort Teton, but they looked different than usual. I reflected on it for a moment and realized we were on the far side of the peaks, the opposite side from the one I was used to seeing. If we could make it around these peaks, we would find the fort.

"Fillies," I neighed, loping to catch up with them, "set a bearing for Forelock Ridge. We'll find Fort Teton on the other side." My black coat glistened with sweat. Night approached faster than I had expected, and we would need to rest soon. But not here, on the gravelly slopes, where we barely had anywhere to stand.

Dandelion flicked her ear in agreement. She jogged downhill faster than I could follow, so I slowed to a walk in the gravel. But Ace, with her wide hooves, tried to follow exactly in the painted filly's precise steps.

"Wait!" I neighed. "Slow down!" But it was too late. Gravel skidded and shifted, rolling down the ridge--and Ace of Hearts with it, her legs flailing in the air as she slid.