Roland leapt into the stallion's saddle and charged—
No.
Seated on his powerful stallion, Roland charged into—
No.
Roland flung himself into the saddle, and charged into the middle of Times Square.
Better, but no.
Jr. slumped in his chair and stared dully at the screen. He read so much, so why was writing such a bitch?
And he could see it so clearly: the horseman, galloping through one of Lost Jerusalem's cities, guns drawn, the streetlights reflected in the rain-soaked streets.
Actually, that wasn't bad.
Roland leapt into his horse's saddle, and urged the beast into a gallop.
Better.