Breathless exhilaration pumped deep and rich from Adonis’s heart and bled through the stallion’s arteries and capillaries to every muscle and out every strand of silky, gray, thick hair that whipped wildly behind him as he ran full out, only to be sucked back into his veins and fed back into his ventricles for another go round. His hooves pounded onto the hard, compacted, dry ground and made thunderous noises; sending birds flying in ever direction and little animals running from their homes. Sweaty white lather was beginning to form on Adonis’s beautiful dapple gray coat and his joints became sore from the constant, heavy use, but still Adonis did not stop. He didn’t stop when his muscles started burning and stretching and tearing. He didn’t stop when the lactic acid built up felt like fire in his body. He wouldn’t stop until he was there, except Adonis wasn’t quite sure where “there” was. While he ran, Adonis’s mind was free to wander—wander back to where he came from and the circumstances of his departure. He tried not to dwell on this too much; each time he did the pain seared his soul. He missed the lush grasses of home, the sweet larks singing and the first snow of winter; catching snowflakes on his tongue and licking icicles. The rush of memories crowded his brain and left him breathless; he stumbled in his pace. Why did it all have to go away? Why did he have to grow up? Why couldn’t he have stayed home with all his friends and mother and her? Adonis harshly cut off his thoughts right there. He didn’t want to think about her. He was desperate not to think about it. He knew that once he did, once he opened the floodgates of his memory, all he’d see is her sweet, dished face, those coy eyelashes that drew him in, brilliant green eyes sparkling with mischief; all he’d hear was her joyous voice, quiet lover’s whispers, those promises of forever and always—she knew that it drove him crazy, the good kind of crazy, of course, and the last thing he’d seen before he was driven out: her belly, full of foal. His foal. The child he was never going to be there for or—stop. He was going to go crazy. She wasn’t even here and she was going to drive him insane. Adonis didn’t know how to live without her, he didn’t know how to live without wanting her or being able to bury his velvety muzzle in her soft black mane to inhale the scent that was so her it always calmed him. How could he go on without his steady rock? It was all that was keeping him from floating away in the sea of everything and nothing. Everything meant nothing. Nothing was what he had.

But it didn’t have to be that way. By this time, Adonis had tired out, slowing to a walk and then stopping altogether after a few paces. Hacking coughs ravaged his throat; he felt the pain of them all the way from his heaving lungs. Icy blue eyes were trained on the ground before him as Adonis’s heavy head was drooping from lack of energy to keep it upright. He knew he’d be fine in a minute; he was one of the most athletic horses back home. He loved the burn, but this was more than a burn. This was pain shooting through his body. His thankfully deep lungs tried so hard to push oxygen through his tissue that Adonis felt dizzy for a brief moment. Once he’d recovered several minutes later Adonis licked his lips with his dry tongue and lifted his head. Blue eyes took in the scenery before him: vast, vast expanses of trees and forest thickets, lush grasses and twittering sparrows. Cautiously, he took a step forward, then another—a sharp snap under his foot made him freeze and quieted all the birds. Looking back, he saw the two halves of a twig lying ruined underneath his powerful hoof. I’m going to give myself a heart attack one of these days, the handsome Andalusian thought, shaking his head at his own silliness. To the side of him he could see quite a large pool of water a few paces away. Adonis cleared his painfully dry throat. Did this belong to anyone? Would they care if he took a drink? He knew that some stallions were quite possessive of their land and all its assets, but he hadn’t seen anyone since he’d stopped running. Deciding to take the risk, Adonis walked onward to the shore. The pond wasn’t very big, but the depth of it took him by surprise. He gazed at his reflection before leaning down fully and greedily gulping the cool, sweet liquid. He looked horrible, ragged. Sand and dirt coated his flanks from running and the sticky lather still clung to his dapple gray pelt. Giving one more glance around to see if anyone was watching—and there wasn’t—he waded into the water. It only came up to his chest, so Adonis took another step. A panicked whinny burst from his throat as he plunged into the deep water, but his head bobbed up to the surface a moment later. Remind me to thank the powers of buoyancy later, the stallion thought to himself. Pain wrenched quickly through his heart; that was something Sheila would’ve said. He shoved those thoughts to the side and swam back to shore and shook out his coat, somewhat resembling a dog. Through all of this, he still hadn’t seen or heard one hint of another equine. Did anyone live here at all?