The trail is lovely, the winter sun streaming through the trees, their naked boughs casting an intricate tracery of light and shade.
But I’m in no mood to enjoy it. Charlie stamps and judders under me, tossing her head. I pull back on the reins. “I don't know what's wrong with her today.”
My Master is cool. “It’s not the horse, Charlotte, but the rider. You're in a mood and Charlie's picking up your mood. You’re perching in the saddle as though you’re the one about to bolt. And if you jerk the reins like that again, I’ll take them from you. Charlie doesn’t deserve to be the butt of your temper.”
He’s right...
But so what?
Clicking my tongue, I urge Charlie forward and she breaks into a trot, but her eyes roll back at me...
“Charlotte...”
... I urge on my mount. The air is fresh on m
