In a small village at the edge of an ancient forest, a funeral unfolded in a somber atmosphere. A polished wooden coffin rested beside a freshly dug grave, the soil still damp and smelling of grass. Villagers formed a circle, heads bowed, murmuring prayers. The soft rustle of wind through the trees mingled with quiet sobs, painting a scene of grief.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by a strange, urgent sound. The rhythmic thud of hooves echoed like thunder. Everyone looked up, startled. From the dense forest thicket, a magnificent chestnut horse with a white patch on its forehead burst forth, galloping straight toward the coffin. Panic swept through the crowd. Some shouted, others scattered, fearing the animal was wild or rabid.

“It’ll trample the grave!” a worried voice cried.

But the horse ignored the chaos, its gaze fixed solely on the coffin.

Then, as if held back by an invisible force, it stopped abruptly, just a few steps from the casket. Motionless like a statue, its eyes never wavered. The villagers slowly regained composure, yet no one dared approach. They shouted and waved, trying to drive it away, but the horse seemed oblivious to everything except the coffin, as if the rest of the world had vanished.

When the moment came for the final farewell, something extraordinary happened. The horse lowered its head and let out a long, mournful whinny, a cry of sorrow. Then, to everyone’s astonishment, it raised its front hoof and gently tapped the coffin lid. Once. Then again. The hollow sound of hoof on wood rang in the stillness, as if the horse were calling to its master, trying to rouse him from eternal sleep.

The crowd fell silent, barely daring to breathe. An elderly woman whispered, her voice trembling,

“That’s his horse…”

Memories surfaced. The man in the coffin—the kind old villager—had raised this horse from a frail foal. They had been inseparable. He had cared for it, fed it, and walked it even in the harshest winters. The horse had been his only true companion, loved like family.

Everything became clear. The horse hadn’t come by chance or madness. It had sensed the loss and had come from deep within the forest to say goodbye to its master.

The ceremony ended, and the villagers quietly departed. Yet the horse remained, head bowed beside the coffin. No one could bear to lead it away. It stood in silence, guarding the friend it had lost. Under the fading sunset, its silhouette cast a shadow on the earth, a symbol of loyalty and love that transcended life and death.