The painted horse

Edición de la obra The painted horse

At first it was sheer exhilaration, the perfect place for a gallop. It was like flying, I thought, laughing as the wind whipped through my hair, revelling in the feel of all that speed and the power of Diablo beneath me. We thundered over the downs. But the big black horse wasn't listening to me at all. He was having far too much fun. I started to panic, my heart pounding with fright. As we rounded the bend, I saw it - directly ahead... "Come on, I'll give you a leg up." He smiled, a devastating grin that nearly knocked me out of the saddle again. "See? You can do it." I hated him. Even if he was the best looking thing ever to have crossed my path - I hated him.

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