I have found that I quite like it here in New York. There are plenty of ways to make my living and I do each of them quite well. I believe that I have found a great way to pass the time, and I am on my way to do just that. I hum a small tune that my mother taught me ages ago, my voice quiet as I move, feet seeming to dance across the cement that lined the ever busy road and its rush of traffic. I make my way to the park, looking around at the greenery is one of my favorite things to do. Perhaps, I will rent a horse for a small while, I do love riding. My clothes seem to flow about my form, white shirt loose and rather silken against my skin. My jeans are also white, and they hug my legs quite nicely. My hair today is loose and the curls bounce with a healthy spring as I walk. Perhaps today is not the day to go riding, but I hardly care about clothing.

I smile as I make my way through the park, meeting with anyone who would let me rent a horse for the day. One man was rather rude about it, saying he wouldn't rent to some pretty face unless I gave him what he truly wanted from me. Riff-raff. I hate men like that, they irk me in ways I have never been bothered before. There does seem to be an over abundance of these types here. The woman I went to was far nicer, and her horses looked to be in much better health. I paid her for her best horse, not caring about the money spent on him. He was a great beast, his dark fur and brown eyes instantly drawing me in. I stroked my hand over his nose, and smiled, getting to know him as the woman tacked him up. A Friesian, the lady had said. I have always loved the black horses with feathers on their hocks, the way they move is almost like air floating through trees, simply poetic.

Once the woman is finished putting on the bridle and saddle, I move to his side and hook my foot in the stirrup. The horse moved forward as I pulled myself up, swinging my leg over his back and hooking my foot into the stirrup on the other side. He has a soft walk, swaying and even in his gait and I pat his neck before kicking him into a trot. My smile grows as he moves and I decide to test him. Posting on his back I give him the signals for dressage movements, his motions moving correctly into the correct gaits. She is a deft trainer then, and most unexpectedly so. My smile grows as I tap him into a gallop, standing in the stirrups to allow him the freedom of motion required for such a swift gait. The rush of his hooves on the grass, the way I feel on the back of a horse, I hitch the reins to the saddle, making sure to give him his head as I stood straight up in the stirrups. My arms spread wide as I laugh and my hair and sleeves flow back behind me. Yes, I trust the horse to know his bounds, and his path. It is not uncommon in France to see such things, though here I would imagine it is quite shocking to see a laughing woman standing up in the saddle on the back of such a large animal.

I sit back down after a few moments, catching the gazes of those I pass by. They seem shocked, and I can only giggle as I pass them. I gently pull the reins back, the horse slowing his motions once more into a smooth trot. My gray eyes flit around as I post in the saddle, moving in time with the gelding's gait. Up, down, one, two, I count as we move along. He is a proud horse, his tail and head held high as he prances around like he holds a crown jewel on his back. His head tosses, and he moves into a sideways prance. Spirit is always wonderful to see in horses, and it is something I frequently look for in ones I am interested in buying. This gelding has had my eye for quite some time. Perhaps, I should see if the woman would be interested in selling him to me.

I am enjoying myself, but suddenly the wind begins to kick up and the sky grows dark, street lamps on the sidewalk flicker and I am beginning to feel tingly. Uh-oh, not again. I halt the horse, feeling the energy grow inside me as I bail from his back, moving quickly away from him as lightning flashes over head. One particularly strong bolt lashes across the sky, arching down and heading straight for me. What. The. Hell. Oh, this will hurt. Zap! "Damn..." This is all I hear and say as the bolt passes into me. I cannot really say through, because it goes no where, my body absorbs the energy from it, my hair standing straight up and body quaking with the electric shock. The horse sprints away from me as the wind kicks up again, the gusts whipping around me as the lightning finally stops. Suddenly, I cannot breathe, or move for that matter, and my vision begins to swim. I fall to the ground, my body going lax from lack of oxygen, my consciousness leaving me and the wind dies down just as I slip into that black oblivion. Great, just great. I hate this when it happens.