They called him Sombrero and he was the baddest of
the bad from south of the border.
Many had tried to stay astride his explosive bulk
only to find themselves a broken and bloodied heap in the dirt. For his brothers it was enough just to rid
themselves of their arrogant cargo, but for Sombrero it was about that triumphant
moment when he felt his powerful hooves connect with fragile bone and heard
their agonizing screams of defeat.
He gave a ferocious snort, his massive heart
pounding with anticipation, as yet another foolish challenger lowered his body
into place.
For a split second the crowd was still, and then
the gate burst open.
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From the
prompt “sombrero” at Five Sentence Fiction.
