Runaway

The forest has been kind to me. The herd has given me the strength and security to thrive in this strange world. I’ve never needed anything more. Until now.

I walked out to the field, full buckets in each hand. Cool water sloshed against my legs with every step. I set one down to open the gate. It creaked open as I pushed it with my shoulder, my pants getting even more soaked. As I finally lumbered over to the hook, I hung the first bucket up. The second was placed on the ground. I turned my head, auburn hair tucked neatly into a bun. Cedar trotted over and nickered, pleased to see me, while Goose stood in the shade of the great tree in the center of the field. I patted Cedar’s neck as he bent his head down to take a drink. A cool breeze blew at my face, shifting Cedar’s red mane. His ears flicked at the wind, but he kept his head down. Finally, Goose began walking down to where I stood. The setting sun painted the sky shades of yellow and red as the darkening sky dropped the temperature. A rustle in the bushes caught my attention, and I could see Goose’s ears perk at the sound. My eyes drifted over and I saw a flash of red-gold. A deer? But it was far too large to be a deer and had a wide white blaze on its raised head. It was watching us. A horse? Wild horses aren’t notably common in Massachusetts. I wonder, why is it here? The horse snorts and I carefully reach for my phone to take a picture. By the time I look back, it is gone, with only the wind to take its place.

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No refs!

#wanderer