The story of where you came from

You were in a beautifully illustrated children's book. I found myself imagining a few scenes during my morning commute yesterday.

In the first one, wild horses are running through tall green grass across a wide sweep of plain. You are running among them, just as wild. Your thick black mane is shining in the sunlight. 

You apparently live entirely outdoors in this place. On this great plain between a tall mountain range, a lake whose distant shore cannot be seen, and a dark and massive evergreen forest. You sleep in a plush pile of foxes, coyotes and wolves. Birds come to rest in your hair. 

There appear to be no adults in this place. And you appear to be the only human being at all. If you are, in fact, even a human being. The sounds you make are mostly animal sounds. Roars and screeches, squirrel chatter, neighs and brays, and peels of delighted laughter.