Precious Few

The sweet rush of wind, tinted by the rain fresh on the ground, licks my glowing cheeks and I close my eyes to revel in the moment.
The movement beneath me, the powerful muscles sliding as they send us forward ever faster, fill me with a wondrous delight that precious, blessed few are allowed to endure.
I lean forward, stretching up his neck, squinting as his flowing mane whips at my face with a ferocious tenor that could be found horrifying, if it wasn’t for the brilliant creature it belonged to. I put my nose to his neck as I follow the motions of his body, lapping up the scent of his hide, the one that always sends a shiver of delightful pleasure down my spine. I sit back slightly, rolling my shoulders to the much practiced line, and turning him gently into a long arch. I put my chin nearly over my shoulder, setting my eyes on our destination and forcing myself to snap out of this dreamlike state and focus on the momentous task at hand.
I touch the braided leather between my fingers back just a tad and my beautiful, obedient steed gathers himself, feeling even more powerful beneath me when condensed.
His ears perk forward as he comes into clear view of the obstacle, and for a moment he shortens his stride and throws up his head, as is his usual routine the first time around. I give him his chance to size it up, keeping a light contact with his tender mouth, before again sending him onward. Together we swoop across the grass, maintaining a steady pace up to its base. The closer we come, the higher it seems to tower, and to any team less prepared it would be no shock if they bowed out in fear. But today is the day.
I feel him gather up beneath me, like a spring wound tight as it can be, and I wrap my legs closer about his barrel, preparing myself for the split second of pure, elegant, frightful glee approaching. In my mind I count the strides, and with the last I rise out of my seat, reaching far up and forward, keeping myself balanced over his center as together we fly as one, two creatures bound in heart and soul, friends through sweat and tears, trusting to the bitter end, and dependent, one on the other, for this glorious, marvelous, magical chance to fly in our own power.
For one short instant, life is nothing but air, and horse, and girl, and ecstasy.
And then we meet the ground, and the instant is gone. I slow his huffing form to an elongated, relaxed walk, and let loose the reins to lie back on his rump, the scene just ended repeating again and again in my mind.
Precious are the blessed few, indeed.


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