For all the worlds she’d seen, the horses and creatures she’d met, this had been the most exhilarating, and exciting experience of her life. For the first time, she felt alive. Although there was no tangible way to describe nor feel it beyond abstract thought and ideas, it was as though their spirits had become one. Runty and lacking in the regal elegance of most wild horses, the nameless blue mare had never run quite so hard, nor fast for the fun of it since she was a filly, racing across the falls on the rare occasion that her dam had decided to leave those rocky peaks she’d called home. She did not simply gallop; she grasped the earth underfoot and hurled it as hard as she could under herself, so that she may lurch forward as far and as fast as possible until she needed to put her feet down and repeat.

She doesn’t even feel the bitter cold of Tinuvel’s nipping breeze. The unruly waves and curls of her mane and tail flow behind her like aged warbanners, and her toning rippled under her blue coat. Periodically, the black stallion would begin to drive her, and surprisingly, she doesn’t lash out nor kick at him for daring to try it. In truth, she doesn’t particularly mind it, at least, for the moment. Her mood was every bit capable of changing as rapidly as the very sea that surrounded them at all ends.

Very abruptly, the mare threw on her breaks. She even left skid marks! With one leap and a kick of delight, she’d changed direction. Though she does not thrust herself into another thunderous gallop. Nay, for another scent had caught her attention, and her mouth was feeling quite dry… Not terribly far away, there was a water source, a creek. She would have slowed from a canter to a trot, and then a walk. Her breath was hot, heavy and caused her sides to heave in and out with each greedy grasp. She sounded like a great machine, as the pistons within pumped while the steam of her breath shot out of her paper-thin nostrils. The blue mare would not have hesitated to step into the water, dropping her head so she may drink, while she strides deeper, until she’s knee-deep in the flow of the water. The tattered threads of her tail’s tip would have caught on the surface and try to follow the rush of the flowing water, but instead, it remained tethered to her.

Should Fell follow, and stock up his personal resource of water? She’d suddenly stomp a foot in his general direction, promptly splashing him!