Ironhooves son of Thunderhooves: Chapter One: As a Foal

“Ironhooves. Ironhooves,” yelled Thunderhooves on his hind legs.
A little Friesian foal came running out from behind a bolder. The foal was Ironhooves. He came running up to his strong father.
“Come, Ironhooves. You must get to shelter. There is a storm brewing,” said Thunderhooves. “Your mother is already there.” Thunderhooves turned with the swiftness of light, and began to lead Ironhooves. His son followed.
They passed through a long gorge. Its tall walls seemed to rise on forever to the little foal. Finally, they came to the cave where a white Andalusian mare was peering out.
“Mother,” cried Ironhooves, running up to her.
“Come in,” said his mother. “Before you get struck by lighting.”
Storm clouds were only a short distance away. Ironhooves walked into the cave and huddled in a little corner. “You, too,” she said to Thunderhooves.
“Athena, you know that I could never get struck by lighting,” said Thunderhooves.
“I know, but I want you in anyway,” said Athena. Thunderhooves walked into the cave.
“Athena. Get further back,” said Thunderhooves. Athena went further back. Dark storm clouds rolled over and covered the sky. Thunder rumbled and lighting clashed all through the night. Ironhooves was fast asleep, but he was tossing and turning.
“Are you alright?” said Athena, nudging him.
“Hmmmm,” said Ironhooves, looking up. “Oh, nothing. I just had a dream that I was running like the wind over mountains and plains while jumping over everything that was in my way.”