Through the grass he ran, each step bounding and forgetful of the horrors of the rabbit hole. He lived in a happy oblivion most of the time. Mottled gray and white fur betrayed him with each movement, for while the grass was tall, it was also the freshest and brightest spring green one could imagine. Secrecy was not his aim, only tag—he had learned this by watching Ezekiel and the horses. Viggo often ran into the coyote before taking off, leaving his golden brother chasing the monstrous animal and yelling in the same manner that the man following him did now.
Imagining he was in fact the tall and strong horse his brother rode, the puppy’s gait became a thumping one, taking odd beats as he mimicked the motion of the horse. A series of high-pitched barks escaped him as he slowed and turned, challenging the stranger to catch him. Again, he bolted off, head high as he fantasized being as mighty as the copper stallion.
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