Sleepy Fox Hollow hayride

Years had passed since Fancy had encountered a Dreamspeaker or a Storyteller. They had been rare in her youth, but it seemed nowadays they'd faded into obscurity. And yet here she was- listening to a story once again, but this time from a stallion. 

It wasn't a legend, but a personal story, and the message that came with it made the sorrel shudder. Only once did she speak- a bare murmur, as she responded to the pregnant mare's death. They run with the Herd of One Hundred and Five now. A blessing and an acknowledgement of suffering and grief. 

There was a cadence to the way that the man spoke that reminded her of a talented Storyteller she'd had the fortune of hearing twice in her youth, when herds gathered together in the valley to graze in the autumn, sharing stories and resources peacefully. She had to dig through her own memories to see if his story was borrowed from one already in existence, but was pleased to find that it smacked of nothing else- a new tale. 

Hmmf, A thoughtful tone, though she still struggled with light disbelief. Well, not horsefeathers, She breathed, Definitely not horsefeathers. She could relive that story several times; perhaps it would play out in her dreams, as other stories sometimes did. You must've been a Storyteller in a past life, She said, with a light smile. I might have to borrow that one, for the foals, She said. Unless you're willing to tell it to them yourself, She enticed. 

She felt her cheeks warm when he complimented her, but she was quick to try and brush off the flattery, as it made her feel too warm- uncomfortable. I'm just lucky I've got Selenia, She said. Someone good I can lean on.