War Horse Novels & Stories

The mare let go with her near hind foot. It didn’t get him but it got the saddle and nearly knocked it out of his hand. He kept close to her shoulder and got the saddle in position again. “Remember that horse that bit off all that old boy’s toes—all the ones on the left foot, I mean?” Augustus said. “That old boy’s name was Harwell. He went to the war and got killed at Vicksburg. He never was much of a hand after he lost his toes. Of course, the horse that bit ’em off had a head the size of a punkin. I don’t suppose a little mare like that could take

The sound of galloping horses pounded into Minos' ear like war drums on a battlefield. It took him to a place he had been trying to forget, from a time he wished he was never a part of. He looked around and he saw an endless column of mounted warriors, with their lances and shields, charging across a bloodied wasteland. Something tugged on his left arm and as he looked, he found it tightly holding the reins of his war-horse. Something heavy weighed on his right arm and realized it was grasping onto a wooden spear. Panic rose to his throat and he tried pulling on the horse, signaling it to stop, but the mass of war-horses and riders surrounding them pushed further and further forward.

the girl argued almost in a whisper. "Listen, it's just how you feel. Blake doesn't like being called 'Blake', he's just a 'horse,'" Illarion muttered, but he also seemed to have accidentally started calling the horse Blake. "And don't put too much emotion on an animal, you don't know when it will die. Especially when he is 'only' a means of transportation on the battlefield." Illarion turned around after saying that he had lost too many mounts during the war, and all of them died horribly. Amanda looked at the man's back sadly, 'I think you also think that the horse is not just a 'vehicle,' sir.

The old man responds in a somber but slow tone. Leon stands but he still has his back facing the horse and the old man. Those red hues manage to slightly shift in the direction of the other two as if looking behind him. "What should I do Syles? The circle and becoming an Abyssal knight are titles that bestow honor but a part of me is screaming, and that part of me is calling myself a coward for leaving my father with those monsters." Syles shake his head in defiance. He pulls out one of the old wooden chairs that sit in one of the corners of the space. He sits in it and begins to brush the side of Liliana's stomach. The old man takes a moment to think but once that soldiery breath of air pas

Tons of warriors move to and fro around the gate with their hands stuck on their swords, always ready to strike. A few other warriors stand as carvings at each end of the pillar, dressed in war armor and weapons. Honestly, the more I make a mental memo of what is before me, the more my stomach knots. Rage steams my blood at how impossible everything is starting to seem. How do I escape this giant prison filled with warriors? I will get caught after surviving the height of Zlata’s window. “Can you ride?” Zlata points at a white horse. Its saddle is decorated with fancy ornaments, symbolizing loyalty.

Anda rolled her eyes. "So I found out there's a horse race going on tonight at the village square so I signed up" Adam smiled. "You can't race.. what if you fall off and dies?" Anda glared at him. "I signed up as Anda Samuels, I'll do the talking and you'll do the racing" Adam replied. "You smart son of a bitch" Anda Screamed excitedly attracting attention. "So, The official boat race starts next week.. I think it's a good thing we came to Dullard" Adam smiled.

Elara’s POV The southern royal highway blurred into a chaotic smear of green and brown beneath our horses’ hooves. The wind whipped violently past my ears, tearing through my unpinned hair like a wild storm, but my hands remained steady over the reins. Flying down the trail beside me was Wren on a swift bay mare, while Kaelen rode a ink-black warhorse that looked like it had been bred solely to trample execution lines.

' I liked it even more when Kael gave me a genuine look of respect when my stallion, Nero, reared up under the stable arch, spooked by a mountain hawk. "Fine handling," Kael noted as I brought the heavy beast back to earth, my thighs gripping his flanks until he settled. "Foolish creature," I muttered, patting Nero's neck as the hawk circled above. "You’ve seen a bird before. Let's move." I pulled up alongside Kael’s mount—a massive, iron-grey warhorse that looked like it had been bred for a siege. "That is a serious beast," I said, nodding at his stallion. "Northern stock?"

I felt worried that something might go wrong if I even did anything extra. Not later than five minutes, Barkov arrived. Queen — my horse with skin the color of coal — slowly appeared. She was tall, but easily the fastest horse I've had the chance of riding. I bought her years ago — a black Arabian horse great at both speed and endurance. “We’ll need to move fast,” I said, placing a hand on Queen’s neck before climbing onto her back. “Where is the guy Jorah gave us?” I looked around, and my gaze finally locked on him.

By now, Kimberly, Sheryl, and Ertan were already at the racetrack. Kimberly has put on the safety gear to ride the horse. She was pulling a big brown horse with black, bushy horsehair. The horse's name was Shetland, and it came from Arabia. Arabian horses are one of the oldest horse breeds. As the name implies, this horse comes from the Arabian Peninsula. Its height is 145–155 cm, with a weight of 360–450 kg. The color varies from black to white to brown to gray.