Remember when you used to close your eyes and see the stallion's eye looking back from one side. Black stallion. Bridle and reigns and no saddle, just a squeeze between the knees holding you up above the beast's back. You would see the hooves pounding away at the ground, faster and faster, the beach, the sand, the desert, the grasslands, the mountain rocks, who knows what was flying by below.
It didn't matter, it doesn't now, but I remember not feeling cold so it wasn't snow. The wind rushed over white knuckles that gripped the reigns tighter, but it wasn't cold. The hrose wheezed and gasped with every breath, but you didn't see it, and you breathed with him. Full deep breaths that you flexed with and slowed with.
And everything was all right.
