Meadow

The two of them were largely inseparable, having both suffered a similar story as even younger boys. Montserrat especially, had always done the opposite of what was expected of him. Not for any particular reason other than it seemed more fun to do things his way. He had his own idea of who he should be, and he never had a chance of fitting the mould—especially not with a coat like his, with markings as loud as his voice whenever he felt like dear August was ignoring him.

Naturally, they slipped away from the judgmental world of their youth, finally ready to come of age together in a new place separated by the salt-laden sea. He always loved to egg his compatriot on, and fortunately he knew just the right way to invigorate him to move his slender legs. Yes, it was true freedom they were sampling for the first time, and it tasted like the wind and the waves. Brilliant and addicting—they could be whatever they wanted now.

“It’s their loss and our gain!” He called as they galloped together, reaching out with his long and slender neck to place a playful nip on Aug’s withers. His mostly-white tail whipping out behind him, he raced out in front of him with an extra burst of energy and then turned sharply, sending the dust beneath his feet flying as he stopped abruptly.

“Well? What do you think Augs?” Montserrat questioned, lifting his head and looking around at the meadow in all its grassy, spring glory as he caught his breath. It was much more lush than they were used to, but there was nothing wrong with abundance.



MONTSERRAT