What could be better?
A breath of wind flickers past, catching my mane to toss ivory hair around my ears, floating past my eyes. I toss my head, snorting as the hair falls back into place, prancing along the ground slightly, turning with the herd. The dominant stallian of our herd, a beautiful beast in a smooth, unmarred, unmurky obsidian, rears, pawing at the sky - a challenge to the air, the earth, the grasses tickling our fetlocks. Landing on the ground with a 'whumph' he kicks his heels and is off.
We follow. Flying from a stand into a canter we run. Faster. Faster. Necks proudly arched and tails flagged we take it to a near-gallop. One, two, three, one, two three, the hooves pound the ground, thundering in a storm of chestnuts, roans, palominos, and dapple-gray. The grasses, trees, the river, it all flies by, blending together into bold colors decorating rolling hills of the plains. Jade, azure, sapphire, spatterings of magenta and fuschia, tree trunks of brown, leaves of a bright emerald all soar past.
We slow, nearing the end of the short race, slowing down to a fast trot, and stopping, cavorting like foals at play, kicking up our hooves and flicking our heads, neighing in rapture. Finally we stop, flanks heaving as we stand, catching our breath, sweat staining my pale yellow palomino coat to a light brown. If I could smile, the widest grin would cover my face. I'd not trade it for anything, this life. Not at all. For what could be better, than being a horse?
A breath of wind flickers past, catching my mane to toss ivory hair around my ears, floating past my eyes. I toss my head, snorting as the hair falls back into place, prancing along the ground slightly, turning with the herd. The dominant stallian of our herd, a beautiful beast in a smooth, unmarred, unmurky obsidian, rears, pawing at the sky - a challenge to the air, the earth, the grasses tickling our fetlocks. Landing on the ground with a 'whumph' he kicks his heels and is off.
We follow. Flying from a stand into a canter we run. Faster. Faster. Necks proudly arched and tails flagged we take it to a near-gallop. One, two, three, one, two three, the hooves pound the ground, thundering in a storm of chestnuts, roans, palominos, and dapple-gray. The grasses, trees, the river, it all flies by, blending together into bold colors decorating rolling hills of the plains. Jade, azure, sapphire, spatterings of magenta and fuschia, tree trunks of brown, leaves of a bright emerald all soar past.
We slow, nearing the end of the short race, slowing down to a fast trot, and stopping, cavorting like foals at play, kicking up our hooves and flicking our heads, neighing in rapture. Finally we stop, flanks heaving as we stand, catching our breath, sweat staining my pale yellow palomino coat to a light brown. If I could smile, the widest grin would cover my face. I'd not trade it for anything, this life. Not at all. For what could be better, than being a horse?