It was a quiet morning near Innsbruck. The air smelled of hay and damp earth. Horses grazed lazily behind the wooden fence.

Anna Meyer was pushing the stroller of her six-month-old daughter, Lisa, along the path by the meadow. Her husband, Martin, had gone out early to buy feed. Everything seemed calm.

Anna stopped by the gate to adjust the baby’s blanket. At that moment, a sudden gust of wind blew the latch open. The stroller, standing on a slight slope, began to move—
At first slowly. Then faster and faster.

Anna turned around, and her heart froze.
“Lisa!” she screamed.

The stroller was rolling straight toward the cliff. Anna ran, but she knew she wouldn’t make it in time.
Then came the sound of pounding hooves.

From the meadow, tearing across the ground, came Bella—their chestnut mare with a white blaze on her forehead. She leapt over the broken fence and let out a sharp neigh.

Within seconds, she reached the stroller and, with a forceful nudge of her head, knocked it away from the edge. It toppled over just a few feet from the drop.

Anna fell to her knees and pulled Lisa into her arms. The baby was crying, but she was safe.
Bella stood nearby, breathing hard, a cut visible on her leg. But her eyes—large and calm—said everything. She had saved a life.

Later, the veterinarian said Bella had torn a tendon, though she would recover. Word of what happened spread through nearby villages; people came to see her, bringing carrots and sugar.

Since that day, a small plaque hangs on the fence near the cliff. It reads:

“At this spot, a mare saved a baby’s life.
Sometimes, the purest hearts aren’t human.”