My tale is a tale of death and ultimately love, as most tales of the West really are. It is a tale that takes several twists and turns through the fabric of fate, ending ultimately where it must. However, it begins with a tale of theft.

My name is Hurit. I was given this name because of my ability to steal horses. I do not know how I acquired this trait. I can surmise that the creation spirits were kind enough to give me skill, cunning and understanding of the ways of the stallions.

I was not like most of the women of my people. While most women would be content with tending to their men after a hunt, or gathering berries, I was not. Such a quiet life of submission was not for me. For whatever reason, I often felt the need to prove myself. There was always something in my heart that pushed me to do things that would be considered unusual or unique. One of these unique and different things was stealing horses.