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Do with that as you will, little one.’ The horse nodded, slowly, as the voice faded into the wash of the falling rain, leaving her with a profound sense of loss, coupled with an exhilarating feeling of the wind’s call. She descended, and her storm-borne form faded into so much mist. A gasp, and the rush of light into eyes. It is like the breaking of dawn over mist, hard and cold. The sensation of rain against flesh, and mud on hair. Cold air, and soft earth. The horse struggles to her feet, like a swimmer breaking the surface. All around the storm is heaving, the trees sway like a chorus of hands, crying for water. The mare sways, and walks along the path of soaked stone, her frame is claggy with mud, and the clothes she has donned run with the storm’s rain. As she walks silently, hurriedly, her head is down, but she does not shiver. After some time, passing through the tiny forest, the horse pulls open a door of swimming glass, and leaves the attentions of the howling wind for the. She had been drinking and was a bit more forward than usual. She simply told me that her daughter was wrong, and she told her she better start pleasing me more often before she loses me. I smiled and said thanks for trying to help, but assured her I was not going anywhere, and I loved her daughter. With a straight face she told me, "that only goes so far. And if she doesn't start giving you what you need, some other young lady will. And then where will your family be?" Again, I assured her that everything was fine, and that was not the case. But she persisted. We ended the conversation with her telling me that she would check back in with me in a couple weeks to see if my wife had changed things at all. I figured that was drunk talk and we would be done with it. But about a month later, she stopped by the house when my wife was out shopping. She came in and I offered her a drink and told her my wife would be back in a couple hours so she could wait if she wanted. She told me she had.
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