Sleepy Fox Hollow rhyolite

Eyes wide, the filly pressed close to her mother’s side as she whispered words to Fancy. In her memory, the steely squeals of Cedar played over and over again. The scent of horseblood lingered in her nostrils. She could have sworn she’d tasted blood on her own breath, after having fled the area. 

The mares spoke of another place- Silverbirch hoped they would find a place where they would never be hunted again. A place the wolves couldn’t follow them, a place where Cedar’s screams would fade away, and finally leave her alone.

A whicker caused her to startle. She lowered her head to peer beneath her mother’s belly, toward another horse. She half-squealed, until she realized that the bay was not, in fact, Cedar. Mom, She whispered, bumping her nose against her mother’s flank.