My stallion’s hooves patter like a fine drizzle on the stone slabs. It treads with care, as if it knows. I shift in the saddle, but fail to find my seat. My jaw clenches. Every move jabs a serrated blade through my chest bone. Every breath scours my ribs with a gritty wheeze. Om Tare.
My body hurts, and I won’t wish away the pain. I’m strong enough to feel it and to endure it until time will lessen it all.
I lift my face to the sun. Her bisque beams trickle through the soggy sky, swollen with the promise of rain. I roll my shoulders. Brave. I’ve decided to be brave and let the hurt live in my heart as a poignant reminder of the young woman’s agony and my own fortunate fate.
A placid neigh steams from my horse’s mouth. Another steep crossing is coming up and there’s nothing we can’t
