Skoll breathed hard as he jumped in front of the mare, thrusting his arms out and barking when she pivoted away on her one fully black leg; the three white-socked ones moved quickly in rhythm to propel her away from her canine charge. She neighed over her shoulder at him as he scrambled to keep up—but then a chestnut shape flew after her instead with a high whinny.
Hwin half-reared, although it was only to stop herself and turn away from the eager colt. Confusion was evident in her dark eyes for a moment, but the next she reached over and aimed a playful nip at the young horse before snorting and galloping onward—revealing that she’d held back on her speed with her usual handler. She fully showcased her speed now, daring for the colt to catch up, her body fixed with her brand of stubborn determination.
The blonde boy laughed, doubled-over, with his hands braced on his knees. He maintained the position as he caught his breath, even though he still felt like he could take off again if he wanted. He was curious to know where the healthy-looking colt had come from, however, and his green eyes scanned the pasture as he lifted his head. He finally spied another wolf, a good half a foot taller than him and mottled with lupine browns and blacks.
“Hello!” Skoll called over, straightening and adopting what he hoped was gallant, princely posture. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and strode over to the stranger; a sniff told him that it was a new member, although not one he’d properly met. He grinned brightly then gestured toward the colt, who Hwin was still attempting to lead on a merry chase. “Is that your horse? He looks really good.”
I can go the distance.
I will face the world:
fearless, proud and strong.
I will please the gods;
I can go the distance,
till I find my hero's welcome,
right where I belong.
Image courtesy of Stuck in Customs
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