Clynthia was calm, her breathing pleasantly quiet while I brushed her down. She could do the same thing music did—she could soothe me. Her brown eyes were attentive, but not in a way that made me think she was scared or startled. It felt more like she could sense what I was feeling.
“Sorry,” I mumbled against her, “I’m not supposed to dump all my problems on you,” I told her as the brush moved through her fine mane. “You’re just so easy to talk to.”
She was probably the most beautiful horse I had ever laid eyes on. Her white base made her look almost like something out of a fairytale—like she was my prince on a white horse—but the gray spots made her real, made her a living creature standing right in front of me.
Her mane shimmered in the light, the colors dancing around her. The soft w
