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The Man with Fiery Red Hair

It came out of nowhere. Everything was calm one day; the next…absolute chaos. There was no warning for anyone as war had begun; and at the start, the reports were that war had started worldwide. It was not centered to one location; such a strange and unusual fact.

Times changed so quickly. The people in the small city clamored together to try to hold on to what we had left; we attempted to stitch civilization back together. I worried about her; worried about her being alone.

And that is why, one day I headed out towards the ranch place the Equestrian Center was located. A lot of the horses had been stolen towards the beginning of the war as gasoline and other fuels used for transportation had become scarce.

Oddly, hers had never been touched; that beautiful white horse had been left behind by even the thieves. I knew the look of that beast and that was why, when I came to the location of the ranch I clearly recognized that majestic animal. Yet, it stood not alone and not rider-less.

Upon the horse was indeed the girl; I was pleased to see her. Yet, my eyes fell to the auburn colored horse that stood next to the white horse and upon its rider. The girl was not alone; she was talking to the other rider a tall man with red hair.

Though I made no call nor no motion, they had both somehow noticed me. I froze in place even as they rode over to me.

"Oh, it is you," she said to me.

I was at lost for words.

"Are you enjoying the beginning of change?" the man with red hair inquired in a smooth voice. Honestly, the sound of his voice gave off an intoxicating feeling in my body. I was confused.

The girl shushed him, "This one is good; he is a kind man who once spoke with me here for hours." The red haired man merely looked at her, his head cocked to the side.

She looked down at me and smiled, "Welcome to the new world." She said to me.

"Why are you all the way out here instead of trying to help rebuild?" I asked her.

It was then that she laughed; it was the same ominous laugh from when she told me about my girlfriend, so I dreaded any words to follow, "The war is not over; this is not the time to rebuild. The worse has yet to come."

The words weighed heavy upon my soul that moment; I had no words to say.

"Come," the red haired man stated, "It is time to go; the others await."

The girl smiled at me once more before riding off with the man with the red hair. I was at a loss of what had been said and how calm she and the other had seemed to take all that had been going on around them. Yet, as they rode off, it then occurred to me; just as the horse had been untouched by thieves, they had seemed untouched by the change that had been occurring.

What did it mean?

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