Guardian

PROLOGUE

The moon filtered through the windows.

The green wizard’s eyes hardened under his arching grey brows as he examined every aspect of his prevision. His lifelong friend, an astounding white dragon horse stood guard outside his window, peering in and watching him. A foresight of the future. A coming age of something phenomenal was impending. It would be of an age filled with fear, loss, courage, determination, desperation, magic, love and friendship which would all transpire and come together.

Taking a special leather book he had stowed away, he engraved its title to the front in clear, black ink letters -Wer Sargt. Turning the cover and flipping to the first blank page, he began to scribble and write away in elegant calligraphic words of his formidable prescience that was now saved away in his memory. Then, he wrote something on a seperate piece of parchment and sealed it underneath the back of the book, hidden to keep secret for the right one to find it only. Finally, on a remaining blank page, he sketched the woman’s face and shut the book.

A legend had been prophesized; a legend that would come of age and change the valley of Halandria forever.

The Guardian is coming …, he told Apollo, glancing in his direction, transfixed on his icey blue eyes. She is coming.

 *Chapter One ~ Vision*

This dream was unmistakably vivid.

I stood alone in an unknown world, out in the open as the trees surrounded me. Rustling the leaves was a cool temperature that would have felt more pleasant if only I had not been sensitively feeling so terrified.

My long, wavy medium, brown hair, lifted from my shoulders as the wind traveled around me and I stood frozen in place.

Why am I so afraid?

It was dark, the clouds were thick and black, a menacing threat to swallow me. Dead silence hung in the air. I felt sick and uneasy, blood roaring in my ears.

After what felt like an eternity, I inquired a noise in the distance. I didn’t dare to move an inch. What was it? Where was it coming from? The only thing I could hear was my panic struck heart beating uncontrollably, and the proceeding rumble as my breathing started to quicken. I kept heeding, attempting to think, my ears intent on making it out. It sounded like … galloping? Yes, like galloping. Like the sound of many four legged creatures running down the field together, the sound of hooves.

I stood there as still as a statue. Inhaling, exhaling, trying to remember how to breathe, my keen, green eyes making out the best of what I could of the earth around me.

The remote resonance got louder, and louder, closer, and closer. My feet accumulated a rumbling sensation that shot through the ground which was vaguely perceptible. My body shivered, like the temperature had just dropped. The flattering white dress I was wearing that fell to my ankles was blowing in unison with the wind, as far as my figure would let it go. A white cape on the back of my shoulders draped over my long, slender diagram.

I tilted my head up to the night time sky, the stars were watching me, the moon was glaring right in my direction, it seemed. I narrowed my eyes and saw a merging group of small glowing, white butterflies, fluttering their fragile wings forthcomingly. They seemed to be trying to deviate me somewhere. Where did they want me to go? They were so delicate. Eye capturing.

Suddenly, my head turned sharply and I saw them; a whole herd of stunningly beautiful horses. Their eyes blank with fear, and seeing them this way triggered an ache in my heart, a feeling for the need to protect them from whatever it was that was frightening them. Why were these majestic, four-legged creatures alarmed?

I tried to distinguish the size of the herd, skimming my eyes through each colored horse, every uniquely, differently shaped beauty, but I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw him.

One horse in particular stood out for me. He wasn’t as struck with terror like the other horses. He was possessed by more of a determined glare in his eyes. Anticipation.

He was positioned at the outside edge of the herd trying to guide them to safety.

I felt so drawn to him, and obtained a need to reach out my hand, to jump on his back and help guide his herd to a safe place away from the danger.

Who was this magnificent, heavenly-sent animal? Where had this herd come from? I could see his jet black coat, a soft velvet surface, and his clothing mane and tail so long and thick, airborne as he ran, whipping behind. Then, my eyes flicked. There, within noticeable range, was a man; a dark silhouette figure, standing away from the galloping herd, on the outside skirt of the forest which circulated the clearing, watching me … All I could outline was icy blue eyes, like crystal glaciers that gleamed in the silver light. Who was he? He reached out his hand, asking for me to take it, his eyes were intense.

I forced my attention back to the stallion. His eyes were boring directly at me, pulling me in again. I traced his shape, his muscles, and his movement. His chocolate brown eyes sucked me in like a tornado, trapping me. I wasn’t able to resist against it. I didn’t want to resist. On his face was the most appealing marking I had ever seen; a pure snowy crescent moon, wondrously on display. It was breathtaking.

The horses ran and ran, their hooves thudding against the grass like a hundred drums, the ghosted profile vanished. And then, the clouds grew thicker and darker, like a blanket of deep shaded grey.

The stallion and his family disappeared.

I awoke with a start and shot right up to a sitting position on my bed, panting heavily and sweating. My heart was pounding from fear and anxiety. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe, calming myself down. I looked at the clock; it read 7.00 AM.

It was only a dream, I told myself.

I wasn’t sure if I sounded like I was stating a fact, or if I was really just trying to convince myself of that. An attempt at self assurance wasn’t too successful. It seemed too real.

I slipped on a pair of jeans, and the first shirt I laid my eyes on. I didn’t feel like making an effort to dress decently today; I was too disoriented to care. I looked out the window as I put on a long pair of beige wool socks. It was gloomy and rainy, and a little cold. It was mid autumn -my favourite season- and the leaves hung off the branches as the light drops of rain trickled down dripping to the soil. It sounded so peaceful and settled. New Zealand was marvelous.

After my parents had died in a tragic car accident, I decided it was time to move out and start an independent life of my own. They had built a trust fund for me, so I moved here to a nice, country cottage home and settled on a large acre farm.

There was walking paths and a great view, a wide porch was perched on a strong base, and a pillared brick chimney running upward pinned to the side. An array of evergreens dotted its perimeter. Out in the back was an intergraded terrace with flowerbeds and a vegetable garden, with an apple tree situated a few feet apart.

My life had always revolved around horses. It was practically the first word I ever spoke. It was going to take a while for me to settle into a steady job.

I was nineteen years old now, and even though I was young, I was determined to have the life I had always dreamed of. I still did not have a horse of my own, and I was determined to make my life here with my future equine companion, a good one. Who ever that horse would be. Budgeting for that primary reason was what I was attaining for.

The acreage consisted of various attractive trees, now overcome by merged red, orange, and yellow autumn colors. There was a fenced in horse pasture, and to its far left commenced extensive dirt trails in the elongated beech tree forest.

As I idly veered out the window, I fumbled with the ring on my right hand. I slipped it off and fidgeted, looking down at it and drawing my attention away from the window.

This ring was my most favourite piece of jewellry. On it was four moon crest symbols accompanied by one star beside each of them. It changed colors, like a mood ring.

I acknowledged a pattern with this ring, too. It was rather strange, but interesting. I think it was a mood ring. It took note to all of my sentiments and emotions.

Ebony represented when I was hurt, stormy, stressed, overworked, tensed or enraged. Brown denoted my state of troubled, nervous, anticipation, reactive, nervous. Orange was for more of my impatient moments or thinking stages.Mixed moods and sincerity coordinated with yellow. Yellow-green was partnered with hopefulness, restlessness or imaginative distractions; whereas jade green depicted a more neutral, calm and involved sensitivity. Blue-green just notified me in my normal condition. Transpired into a regular blue, however, portrayed my calm, approachable, relaxed and optimistic phases. Indigo equalled my inner tranquility. Violet was for my sensual elatedness, and deep intrigues. Red violet noted surging edge, or despair, and even ballistic upheaval. Pink was for resonant warmth and affection. Ice blue indicated my visionary senses; where as white implied my meditative and temperate consciousness. Gray marked my unconcerned, and sullen moods and mist blue connoted my wondering, solitary wistful self. Violet brown suggested mysterious notions and depths of distant hope. And lastly, came a show of green-brown which portrayed muted, unpredictable and misguided feelings.

It was a lot to absorb. It took in so much of who I was and what I felt. It never seemed to miss a beat.

I slipped it back and stood up, taking a quick glance at my room. There was pictures of horses taped all over. Faces of various different horse breeds all staring wondrously at me. A large chest sat at the foot of my bed, and a dark, hunter green layer of paint covered the walls. It was my favorite color. My bed was laid out close to the window that had an overview of my home. A tall oak bookcase filled with all of my favorite books and music lay against the wall, complimenting the area with a sense of sophistication.

I cracked a grin. Of course I hadn’t really introduced myself with anyone around my new home. I preferred a period of time for temporary isolation to sort myself out.

I turned around and before I walked out of the door, I laid my eyes on the giant horse poster that adorned my wall. The Friesian horse illustrated on it was amazingly striking.

I sighed heavily.

The thought was released and I darted down the stairs and into the kitchen. Out of the cabinet I hunted the box of cereal and a bowl. Next, I went and seized a spoon. I sat down at the round, wooden table and poured the milk I had fished out from the fridge. I quietly sat there chewing, glaring at my ring, lightly tapping my slippered foot on the linoleum floor.

It was purple. The dream was so finely etched into my mind that I could not understand what it meant. That miraculous black stallion with the lovely crescent marking on his forehead, and that silhouetted man figure dominated my train of thought. I couldn’t focus.

With all my worry and confusion, I lost my appetite and abandoned my bowl of cereal, slid the chair back and put on my warm, chocolate chip coloured, waxed cotton jacket; and durable waterproof, chestnut hiking boots, closing the door behind me.

Outside was crisp and chilly. The rain had let up and the fog made an appearance. The autumn cloaks delicately adorned the mourning trees, statues of sad beauty inspiring wistful adoration. I continued walking down the pathway and led myself into the barn climbing up to the hayloft. The barn was old, but its structure was still fairly strong and sturdy. The sweet smell of hay hit my nose with a wonderful aroma. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply to take in and concentrate on the smell. I tried to imagine what it would be like to have a horse here, making a silent promise to myself that I would be the best leader for my companion, and take care of him.

I mean, what girl didn’t ever dream of owning a horse of her very own? Especially if you didn’t belong to the percentage of them who had only gone through a minor, obsessive phase. I was in this for life.

There was something about black horses that made my heart warm up and tingle with delight. As if their color was a reflection of the night, guardians from the stars, summoned to signify the beauty of nightfall.

I went back downstairs as I explored. Every day since I moved, I tramped around the barn and let my mind run wild with dreams of what could be. Of what would soon be possible.

Following the venture, I hiked outside and decided to go for a walk. I strode closer into the woods; the towering beech trees stood tall. The fog wrapped around them like a translucent blanket and blocked out some of the dim, gloomy light except for individualized sections that crept in through the forest gaps, layering on thick even at my feet.

My gloves kept my hands warm, thankfully they happened to be in my pockets. It was quiet, and you could hear the yellow headed blackbirds singing and chirping contentedly as the rain had stopped and the squirrels came out of hiding to go on a search for food. The ground was damp, and the mud clung to my shoes.

I ostensively felt like someone was watching me. Shivers ran down my spine as I uncomfortably shook the chary, stopping midtracks. I could hear my breathing, my heart was off beat. Something wasn’t right at all.

Stop it, Leia, I muttered to myself. You’re just paranoid. I ignored the feeling of uneasiness and resumed down the trail. That dream had caught a hold of my nerves, big time.

More like nightmare, I corrected myself.

As I slithered farther into the dimensions of the woods, I decided to investigate the areas I had not yet discovered. I came to find a river back through here that snaked endlessly beyond my capability of sight. The sound of the flowing water was pleasant. It added to the already musical sounds of nature. It was now my home.

That word appealed to me. The city had been too much confusion bustling about chaotic and stressful living. I hadn’t been created for that.

I slogged across a group of large glaciered rocks planted firmly in the dirt, bunched together in a way that almost appeared like an artistic entrance that led to another place. These solid greys were taller than I was, at least by a foot or two. It intrigued me so I treaded nearer to it so I could amplify my perspective. I examined the shapes, the edges, the curves, the points. Placing my hands on the stormy tinged gray stones, I took my time to bear the rough texture. In the tick my hand made contact, I immediately sensed discrete.

My ring transpired into various colors, linking to my emotions, and something was drawing me in. These rocks sat together, neighbour to the edge of the river and I could see the reflections of all the trees, smudged and rippling as a result from the moderately paced currents, the sky, the birds passing along, and I traced my attention back to the boulders.

One section of this entry-like setting commanded my awareness. It had me very curious. There was a measure of the stone oddly carved. In the middle of it was what existed to be a small circle engraved right into it. Then, I laid my eyes across the prettiest profile; a dazzling crescent moon.

If there was something in this world that really intrigued me, aside from the obvious God-given gift of horses, it was the moon. Just the essence of it was mesmerizing. It was simply, and roundfully illuminescent, but truly outstanding. These carvings were well hidden in the rocks, with moist verdant moss clinging in a strewn order.

How interesting … I murmured to myself.

My thoughts were briefly intruded when the cold sensation of wet licked my cheek; a raindrop. A shiver flew down my spine. I looked up and hadn’t realized how quickly the clouds got dark. Their shades of gray portaying shadows in the silvery sky. The rain descended like tiny liquid shards, as if mother earth was unsatiable with the previous rainfall, blissfully trickling down my face. I decided my day would be spent inside, cuddling with a blanket and reading a good book. Perhaps even watch a good movie. So I retreated from the rocks and headed down the path back home.

When I reached the cottage, I hung my things to dry. My stomach demanded food after the little adventure. With a quick sandwich, accompanied by a fresh cup of hot chocolate, I darted up the stairs with lunch and closed my door so that the heat coming from the radiator could not escape. I consumed my food and occupied myself reading one of my favourite classics, sipping my hot chocolate as I went along; occasionally setting it down on my bed side table.

Black Beauty was a very wonderful story. One I loved to read. The beauty of him was wordless and capturing. A horse the colour of night, I decided, would be the horse for me.

My eyes traveled the pages. People who treat horses like this are dispicable, I concluded as my mind skimmed the saddening tales for the hundreth time.

I worked my way through half of the book when my eyes finally began to protest droopily against staying awake. I stifled a yawn, sealed my eyes, and began drifting far away.

The first thing I was aware of was a smooth rocking momentum between my legs. A thudding rhythmic beat that set me in a trance.

I got distracted for a split moment to recall what I was wearing; the ivory white costume with scooped neckline, hanging sleeves attached to a pair of golden bronze cuffs secured snugly around my forearms and bare skin exposed from then upward, flaring out at the bottom, and golden intricate trim to a well-fitted bodice; light in weight and hugging my torso; constructed of rich fabric, and lengthy, lateral slits along the side of my long legs to adapt with the purpose for flexibility and movement and a tightened green ring belt made of cloth-like material that wrapped around my hips, descending right to the starting point of my thighs and undulatingly dangling, and lengthening to my ankle at one side. As a pallid, cotton cloak -with an oversized, curved full hood and gold clasp for closure- lifted temporarily off my back, the creature was suspended in midair.

I turned my concentration to the stirring animal beneath me as I clung to what felt like a thick, soft mane as black as coal. I could feel the warmth of his majestic body whilst he flawlessly carried me through the woodland.

It was him. The stunningly beautiful black I had seen before, running with his herd.

My hair flailed in the wind, the air rustling underneath the strands and grazing sensationally over my skin. The light emitting from the silver orbit lit our path. This felt so real. It felt like magic when I saw this horse, but to be on him was even more magical. Like it was just the two of us wandering the earth at midnight as the moon traveled the sky till the sun took over.

I would give my dream horse a name. I knew he couldn’t be real, that he wasn’t real, but for my sake, I wanted to designate him, to give him a meaning, a purpose. I rode and thought at the same time, seeing the flash of one tree after the other peripherally as I glared straight ahead, hearing his rhythmic breathing.

Midnight … I whispered to him in a gentle voice. He nickered softly as if agreeing with me. I stroked his neck. Midnight it is then.

Midnight’s mane flew abroad the whispering wind that blew in the starlit night, where the moon was vast and full, bleaching the fragrant sumacs and oleander trees and lively swaying grass with a tier of silver. Its glowing light beaming and illuminating the ground in which he ate up with his long and powerful strides. His nostrils flared, muscles ripped with the motion of his gate as his hooves and breathing made natural music for the boundless earth. His eyes were the window to his mind, watching intently the world around him. My hand stroked his neck as we galloped through a cosmic copse of clefted speckled alders and silver mounds, while bundles of shy moon flowers blossomed and awoke everywhere, setting free a swarm of fluttering white, moon butterflies, glowing in the essences of night. The trees were witnessing statues, watching us and dancing along, wanting to join in unity with us as we flew across, but settling for an earthbound dance of encouragement. The ground had created the beat of drums as Midnight’s hooves made contact. My bare feet felt the warmth of his body as he walked and we stood at the river’s side. Watching the bright, large pale circle in the sky; I could glimpse its reflection in the water. Shades of gray coloured into its surface, creating shapes of art. The soothing sound of the canal as the water traveled to its unknown destination was soothing and tranquil.

I lifted my chin and observed the unusual scene; the radiant white butterflies spiralling gracefully in the air, watching us.

I leaned forward, embracing my arms around this beautiful horse’s neck. The softness of his mane in my face, and the trance-like sound of his breathing made my heart warm and happy. It felt so real. I wanted this dream horse to exist. To be mine forever.

A fade to black flashed my eyes, I woke up, and quickly came to realize he was gone. The sorrow swept through me like an ocean wave.

A dream … I whispered sadly. It was only a dream.

 *Chapter Two ~ Midnight*

Morning sunlight streamed through my window, the warmth penetrated on my skin. I opened my eyes, and laid there silently for a while, replaying that most remarkable fantasy in my head. The only thing I was wishing at this point was that he was valid and tangible.

I permitted my thoughts to run their course for a length before I got up, recollecting my trip through the woods the previous day. Those peaked miniature mountain glaciers set on land located near the riverside were fascinating to me.

As I fidgeted with my ring, I groped about the embellished shapes of the small circle and the crescent engraved into the hidden segment of compacted solid. I mused over how it got there.

My train of thoughts transpired into the memory of where I had discovered the trinket. The retained memory played in the lens of my consciousness; I had taken advantage of that sunny day to delve into the forest.

By the time I arrived at the waterway, I playfully tossed pebbles into the wide streaming course; when I noticed something next to the stone I was about to send in to the ripples following the others. It was the pretty ring. Its color was black as I picked it up, its interior a striking gold, etched with a number eight inside to ironically mark my exact size. Shortly after I had situated it on my finger, it convergingly changed green. I contemplated its appeal to me and decisively chose to retain it.

While I glared at my ring, it was black … someway while I was not wearing it, it continuosly turned obscure; as though it wasn’t connected to my emotions any longer. The dimension of it recapped on the note that it was the uniform size similar to the engraved …

I broke midthought.

I flung off my covers and pounced off my mattress, returning the ring back on my finger as I realized this; got dressed and torpedoed down the stairs.

I placed a piece of toast in the toaster, grabbed an apple, caught the upright springing motion of the toast as it came out, shoved it in my mouth, put my shoes on at record speed and hurried out the door -completely forgetting my coat.

My idea might have been a crazy one -even ridiculously foolish- but it wouldn’t hurt to put my curiosity to the test. I reminded to chew my food so I would not choke, all in my haste, wishing my feet could cover more ground.

I half ran my way through the trees and brush. It was clear blue and a really nice day out. Sun streaks lit some of the woodland as I made my way down the path, bounding itself off the leaves, the bark and the soft dirt between my feet -which had good chance of stumbling over each other, considering the rush I was in.

I arrived and brought myself right to the outcropped rocks. I searched for the circle and the carved crescent on the glaciered stone element and quickly found them. I slid off the ring and took a deep breath.

I must be insane, I muttered.

Very carefully, I inserted the ring to the stone to fit the deep outlined shape and to my absolute amazement, it fit! My eyes shot up in shock, so much that I expected them to plop right on my cheeks.

How in the …

A startling sound cut me off.

Still stunned, I quickly sidestepped out of the way as the huge mass of stone shifted strangely, revealing a dark black gap at least a good metre wide.

An opening? I was uncertain. My feet were still glued to the ground as I tried to make sense of this. I wiggled my toes to make sure that my brain could still send proper signals to move when I needed them to.

A small number of seconds later the shifting stopped and I took out my ring, returning it to my finger. I was surprised I could even remember to think of taking out the thing when my senses were still trying to remember how to work correctly.

Wh-what in the world? I stammered.

I forced myself to move forward to take a closer look. That took a lot of effort.

The crest began to glow and my mouth dropped open. How was this possible? I snapped out of it, attempting to get a hold of myself. There had to be a reasonable explanation for this. The moon crest, still glowing, was so mesmerizing.

But magic doesn’t exist! Does it? Of course it didn’t. Impossible.

Abruptly, I heard a distant neighing forthcoming from the opening. Squinting my eyes, I tried to see what was there.

Silence lingered in the air; I didn’t stir, listening closely. There it was again. That extraordinary sound, like I’d heard it somewhere before; in my dreams …

It can’t be. I was really heading in the direction of unreasonable, now. Irrational, Leia, just utterly irrational!

Midnight? I whispered. The neighing stopped. This drew me in further; I had to find out what this was, what it meant. I closed my eyes and inhaled a deep breath.

I must have some unrealized death wish, I muttered feebly, opening my eyes again. Let’s hope curiosity doesn’t kill the cat, I said. Clearly I was the ‘cat’.

My steps repositioned towards the blackness. I had to prove this was another dream. A very vibrant dream, but a dream nonetheless. Magic didn’t exist. This kind of stuff didn’t exist.

Here goes nothing.

One step after the other and the next thing I knew my body was plumetting, and I was pulled downward. I was falling. I screamed, terrified, regretting my decision instantly, refusing to think what was waiting below when I would hit the ground. I was incapable of screaming anymore, nothing came out; I was too stunned by the speed at which I was declining.

I sealed my eyes shut tight as the winding speed stung them and then, succeedingly, I realized when I had the guts to open my eyes was that I wasn’t falling anymore?

I was lying in the breach of a verdant forest encompassing me; consisting of a globular of saplings, shrubs and brush circulating my surroundings. Not a scratch or a broken bone.

This is getting really strange. I gathered the songs of birds chirping, and smelled flowers whose presence existed around me, pleasantly entering my nose. Normal enough.

I was still too surprised by everything that just happened that I couldn’t bring myself to move yet or thoroughly speculate my settings. The idea hadn’t registered quick enough. As I lay there, absorbing the situation -or at least trying to- I heeded footsteps within the distance. I stopped breathing. My mind was in a panic, with small portions of adrenaline circulating in my blood. I leisurely discerned that the beat of these footfalls sounded familiar.

One-two-three-four. One-two-three-four.

I sprang up quickly to my feet and recollected my breathing. I really had to stop doing that.

In the trice I saw him emerge from the shading trees and bushes, I gasped. There and then my knees felt weak and nearly buckled. It took me so much force to sustain myself upright on my feet. Not that I had much choice -I had nothing next to me to support myself.

He stared at me with those striking eyes. His coat was a jet, velvet black, like I’d never seen, gleaming in the sun, and his long, lean, muscular body stood proud and strong, perfectly conformed.

I blinked several times to make sure I was seeing right.

It was silent.

I heard his soft breathing. His mane and tail were long, silky and soft. I could decipher simply by looking at him. He was like I had seen in my dreams, except better. More clear, vivid, and more real.

I indisputably knew this was him as I inspected his forehead and confirmed that delicate moon crest I adored so much. It was as white as snow, and what I deemed visible was a single cowlick swirl on his forehead, which meant it was an indication of a generally uncomplicated nature. Neither was it on the left or the right, but below the eyes which specified that he was unusually imaginative and intelligent. Usually above average and an interesting character to deal with.

This can’t be real.

I leisurely reached out my hand. I yearned to touch him, to make sure he was really there. As if that’s what he had been waiting for, he gently and gracefully sauntered over to me. My hand, trembling, still held up waiting for him to fill the empty space. Closer. Closer. And finally, he nudged his muzzle into my outstretched hand and the most indescribable feeling of happiness surged through me like a live wire. I breathed out slowly, suddenly sobbing and warm tears fell down my face.

He nickered softly and stepped inwardly, intimately pressing his head into my chest. I instantly wrapped my arms around him, cradling his face, never wanting to let him go -in case he vanished in a puff of smoke.

He must have been the one I heard through the entrance of the rocks. Had he been calling for me? Waiting for me to come to him? I didn’t care. He was real, and authentically tangible, existent and he was here in my arms and I would never let him go.

My tears finished spilling, I slowly leaned back, wiping them away. Midnight … I whispered. It’s really you.

He nickered softly again and lifted his head to look at me. I quickly contemplated the place I had discovered, looking around this meadow as the trees stood like a circular, grassy barrier, and my eyes flickered back to Midnight. He backed away and as I watched to see what he did next, I was amazed!

He slowly lowered his head elegantly, and lifted his left foreleg and compressed it to the ground against the grass and bowed his head down till his muzzle virtually touched the earth. I stood there confused, but fascinated at the same time. He quickly lifted his head up and whickered, bobbing his head up and down slightly.

What? I asked him in wonder.

He craned his head to the left and looked back at me, trying to tell me something. I tried to read his body language.

"You want me to … ride you?" I asked surprised.

He whinnied at me, loudly and insistent as if to verify my answer as the correct one.

I thought for a moment again, easily making my decision. I walked over to him and gently stroked him as I stationed at his side and grabbed a handful of soft, honeyed thick mane. Yes, silky and soft like I had guessed, just by observing his visual characteristics; his perfect features.

Carefully, and gently, I swung my right leg over and shifted my body so I could be comfortable. My heart leapt. It felt so amazing to be on him, better than it had felt in my dream! Words completely failed me.

He effortlessly brought himself up to stand and spun on his hindquarters. His gate was so smooth, like a bird gliding in the air, coasting with pride. Midnight swiftly maneuvered himself, rotating his perfectly shaped ears to scoop up the sounds he was hearing, too far for me to pick up. His body fluidly extending into a rocking canter. As I sat on his back, I felt morphed to him, like we were one. The forest stretched for miles, but Midnight seemed to know where to go. It was almost effortless for me to ride on his back, the wind in my hair, and my legs draped around his body. We temporarily reached a bare field clearing of wavering grass that expanded in front of us, but were brought into the thick forest once again. He rapidly carried me down a long, narrow trail.

Where are you taking me? I smiled curiously.

He snorted, and I let out a small laugh. He slowed to a trot, and then to a walk. We had come to the side of a river that flowed down beyond the mountains, and I dismounted him.

He took a small drink from the river and then went to lie under a large, yellow birch tree and graze. I walked over to him and kneeled beside him, resting my head on his back as I sat in the middle of the small arch his body created as he lay there munching at the sweet, green grass. My exultant emotion surpassed anything I could even begin to express.

As I closed my eyes, I slowly listened to the sounds. His cadenced chewing, the river travelling, the leaves atop us lambently rustling, the last song of the birds as dawn fell, and the crickets who chirped in unison; hiding in the bushes preferring to be left unseen.

I began to sing to him with gentle strokes of my hand.

Midnight stopped grazing, slowly turning to face me. His eyes so soft, melting my heart. He came nearer, I shifted and adjusted so he could lay his head on my lap as I caressed him, continuing to rub his angelical face and sung again.

My voice sent him into a dazzling trance of calm and peace, half lowering his eyes. My eyes were tracing his musculature face, and delicate equine features, my fingers twirling in a clockwise motion in small circles placed on his finely shaped, snowy crescent.

My eyes closed shut.

The sun finally made its retreat from the sky. The moon rose and lit its brightening light on us, as it reflected on the river. I somehow knew this was Midnight’s special place, and he had wanted to share it with me.

I opened my eyes again for a quick moment to give him a warm look that embraced him internally, resting my head in his mane and closing my eyes again. He gently brought his head up to graze again, careful not to disturb my comfort; still allowing me to lean into him, drifting to a slumber of dreams filled with wonderful thoughts of my equine angel.

His soft breath, a heavenly sound, and then, internal silence.

* * * * * * * *

I knelt down by the river and scooped up some water with my hands and rinsed my face of the sleep that still remained in my eyes.

My stomach grumbled and I quickly fathomed how hungry I was. I finished washing up, and promptly glanced at my reflection in the steep water route. I got up and paced over to Midnight who stood under the tree, patiently. I peered at him and grinned.

I need to find something to eat, I told him. He snorted. Let’s go up that hill alongside the river and see what we can find, -talking to him like he actually understood English. I chuckled a little, shaking my head incredulously. I was daring to believe magic was real. The miraculous kind of magic, that was.

He moved fluidly into his elegant bow and I hoisted myself on to his back and he inclined gracefully. I clung to his mane and we strode up the hill that began to work its way up to a cliff’s edge as we reached the top. I looked up ahead and saw a cluster of trees, right on