Excerpt fromĀ Wild Spirits: Running with the Herd

She had hooves, four legs, a tail; she was Horse.

The herd began to move, and she instinctively knew it was time to go to water. Throwing her head up and sniffing the air, she struck out in the direction her senses told her to go. Not even realizing at first that she was leading the herd, she headed up a narrow trail between tall canyon walls made of huge slabs of reddish rock. Their hooves crunched on the gravely surface of the trail, and the only other sounds were of the warm breezes floating down through the canyon and an occasional riffling snort from the line of horses behind her. The rhythm of the hoof beats combined with the singing of the gentle winds to create a serenity that she could not remember having felt before. The trail eventually wound around the end of the tall mesa and opened up into a small, protected area within the rocks. There were a few small trees here and the smell of water was strong.

Going straight to the trees, she pushed her horse body through the branches, and on the other side was a small, spring-fed pond. Only large enough for half a dozen horses to drink from at a time, the pond fed a tiny brook that trickled down into some rocks and then disappeared.