Raging Bull

The bull, named Bull fled into the plains. If the grass here, in the plains, had been shorter, Bull thought he might have been seen, unfortunately for him, his black hide wasn't camouflaging in the yellow. Fraed and Bob spotted him almost instantly.

"'Ey, Freddy! Done dere! Da 'ittle beastie!" said Bob with a heinous enthusiasm in his voice. Their jeep plunged into the yellow plains after Bull.

Bull heard the jeep tearing its way towards him. Anger surged into the now, enraged Bull with every pound of his beating heart. As Bull ran, his hooves thumping against the grassy field, he could sense the evil duo getting closer.

Bull found a new strength as he neared the mountain passes that loomed in front of him. It was the strength and the power one finds when ones life is in danger.

A pass intersection was dead ahead. Bull needed to make a split second decision. Right or left? His instincts said right, but he took left. Bad move, it was a dead end.

The jeep closed in. Fraed lifted his tranquiliser gun to shoot down 'the 'ittle beastie'. Bull had a choice: get caught or, ram through. He pounded his right hoof on the stone floor, steam rose from Bull's nostrils. He let all the rage, anger and hate that ran in his blood explode, as he rammed his horns into the jeep.

Bull ran, he ran for his life. He ran for freedom. But unfortunately he didn't run long. He was exhausted. The pain in his legs was excruciating.

HE had hardly rested for a second. The mean bull catchers, Fraed and Bob had appeared. Bull was too tired to do anything. He gave one last anguished cry for his lost freedom. Bull, once free to roam as he wished, was now a show bull in training.