During the funeral, a horse appeared from the forest and ran straight toward the coffin: those present were shocked to discover the reason for its action. In a quiet village next to an ancient forest, a funeral was taking place. A polished coffin rested next to a freshly dug grave, surrounded by grieving villagers. The air was heavy with sadness, with the scent of damp earth mingling with whispered prayers.
Suddenly, the sound of hooves broke the silence. From the woods emerged a chestnut horse with a white patch on its forehead, galloping toward the coffin. Panic gripped the crowd—some screamed, others fled. But the horse didn’t charge; it stopped a few feet from the grave, still and solemn.
Attempts to scare him away were useless. The horse remained motionless, its gaze fixed on the coffin. As the prayers concluded, it lowered its head and let out a plaintive whinny. Then, with touching tenderness, it struck the coffin twice with its hoof.
An old woman whispered, “It’s his horse…” The villagers remembered: the man in the coffin had raised him from a foal. They were inseparable.
The ceremony ended, but the horse remained there, silent. As the sun set, its silhouette was projected over the grave—a symbol of love and loyalty that not even death could shatter.
