Lightning flashes through the sky, thunder ripples through the air, a flood of horses
drag themselves up the beach. Dripping wet, heads hanging low, exhausted. One gives a cry
of pain and collaspes onto the sand. The others halt turn and do the same. They were fine horses
before, all purebreds, delicate, exotic, now they are on a distant island, where their pampered
lives could not be further away.

In the shadows watch more horses, eyes narrowed in disdain. Their wildness shows in
everything about them, the way they move, their manes, their eyes. They watch disgusted,
angry with the foreigners for treading upon their territory, their home.
These pampered horses did not belong here. Scornfully they turn away and disappear
into the night, as silently as they had arrived.

Since then more and more shipwrecked horses have come, and there are more of the wild Agrios than ever