Kune was not normally a stallion of impulse. His mind was methodical and logical and slow to come to conclusions. Back in his homeland, horses had been thought of as naturally comprised of different elements: there were those who were dreamy and idealistic like air, or driven, fast, and flowing like water; those who were fierce, unstable, and fiery, and those who were stable, stubborn, and grounded like earth. Everyone who had ever known Kune had said he was the earthiest horse there ever was.
Yet he found himself shedding that shroud of caution now, as he stepped into the shallow, churning water. Cold prickled up his legs and lapped at his chest, but he carried on, finally ducking into the curtain of water. It hit him with the force of a kick, and shocked the breath from his lungs, but for those moments in which Kune stood there, letting the waterfall drown his senses and cleanse him body and soul, he could think of nothing else.
And it was bliss.
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