Cedar Sweep horse with no name

Over the sound of the water and the whisper of wind through the trees, Ginsberg could not have determined whether or not she was alone. Her ears swiveled atop her skull in hopes that she might find a means of keeping a watchful eye on her back. Had it not been for her paranoia, and the consistent reminders from her mother to never let her guard down, Gin would have continued on her way without ever having taken note of the stranger beneath the boughs of the trees. Instead, she turned her skull sharply toward him and her nostrils flared in surprise. The dark fur along her neck and shoulders rose upward and stood like quills along her back. The flash of her sea green vision was latched to his dark features with savage intensity before she forced herself to relax.

It was in those few moments that she searched his frame, noting the rising and falling of his lungs in his chest and ribs. He had been running, which caused her to believe that she might have been being chased. There was a moment that she thought to flee, knowing that she was not nearly as winded as he seemed to be. Instead, she stood her ground and met him with a flash of her eyes. Ginsberg could not be afraid of a man; she vowed that she would never do that. So, she waited to see if he would make a move or if he would leave her there.