We are Mark and Amy Steppe. We’ve worn the uniforms. We’ve carried the weight. Some call us heroes—we call ourselves survivors.

Mark went to war. He came back different. The battlefield didn’t stay overseas—it followed him home. The silence, the sleeplessness, the rage, the grief—it all seeped into the bones of our marriage. Amy, too, carried her own invisible wounds from service. We tried every form of treatment—until even hope felt like a memory. We were unraveling. Our family was fading. We were ghosts in our own story.

And then, something wild found us.

Wild American Mustangs—rounded up, displaced, misunderstood. They were broken too, carrying stories no one had listened to. We didn’t plan for them to save us. But in the slow quiet of every day—in the wind, the dust, the rhythm of hooves on Earth—we began to breathe again. Some of these Mustangs had never known a kind touch. The day they allowed one was the day something shifted in us, too. Trust. Surrender. Belonging.

We didn’t need a diagnosis. We needed the Earth.

We didn’t need a cure. We needed connection.

And we found it—in the eyes of these wild, powerful souls.

Laughter returned. So did sleep. Our bodies strengthened. Our spirits rose. In their presence, we remembered who we were before the world broke us. In the company of horses and under the open sky, we became Mark and Amy again. We became Unbridled.

As an Indigenous woman of the Kogi lineage, Amy carries an ancient truth: the Earth is not a resource—it is a living mother. The Mustangs are sacred. Their wildness is not a problem to be managed—it’s a medicine to be honored. We believe healing doesn’t happen in isolation—it happens in relationship. To each other. To the land. To the animals. To the stories we’re brave enough to tell.

We don’t just rescue Mustangs.

We walk each other home.

We don’t just heal trauma.

We return to ceremony.

We don’t just fight for the wild.

We protect what must remain free.