Regina kept many secrets, scattered about Storybrooke in various little hubbles where no one would go and no one suspect. It was a chore to manage, when they mattered; and when they didn't, it was almost like a threaded spindle, unraveling her soul with each curse that swept in the wild fray of cause and effect.
A rusted horseshoe was lesser a secret, and once a happy memory waiting in the dark, maple desk of a white, white room.
...
I haven't really kept up with the series since 4, but I'm a little annoyed that they haven't explored much of Regina's obvious love for horses (tragically beloved stable boy aside).
