The stable yard brimmed with a quiet anticipation that seemed to ripple through every blade of grass and drift on every breeze. The horses stood waiting, their coats gleaming under the soft, amber light of late afternoon. The sun, nearing the horizon, bathed the scene in a golden warmth that felt almost deceptive, as though it sought to mask the nerves coiling tightly in my stomach.
The chestnut mare before me snorted softly, her large, liquid eyes assessing me with what I could only describe as skepticism. She shifted her weight, the faint clink of her bridle filling the otherwise serene silence. My hands tightened around the reins, the leather cool and unfamiliar against my palms. Somehow, this horse had become a symbol of my tangled emotions—a mix of fear, uncertainty, and the need to
