The sun rose slowly over the eastern hills. The horses had already started moving, and as the sun warmed their backs, they increased their pace. They were heading to a valley deep in the hills.
The group of backpacking adventure tourists were only just beginning their preparations for the day. A few were emerging from their tents, some still yawning. Others were organising breakfast and talking about the day's activities. They were getting used to these early starts. They spotted the small herd in the distance. Some reached into their packs for their cameras. As they stood peering into the lingering shadows, it became apparent that they were in the path of the now galloping herd.
"Don't worry. They'll go round us," the tour guide assured them. "They never come close to people."
The lead horse, however, headed straight for them, followed closely by his herd. At the last minute the tourists realised they would have to move quickly. Seeming not to notice the surprised people dropping everything and frantically scrambling empty-handed to reach the rocks to get out of their way, the horses galloped through the camp. Behind them, tents were collapsed and breakfast trampled into the ground.
Gathering their scattered belongings, the tourists were grateful that no-one had suffered any injury greater than a grazed knee in their rush to safety.
Recovering quickly, they all agreed that what had just happened was something that money couldn't buy.