Running in Winter

A micro story about horseback riding.

Photo by Lachlan Gowen on Unsplash

I watched with excitement as the heavy flakes fell from the sky, swirling outside the window. I knew the next day would be glorious. I went to bed that evening with my heart full, and my nerves buzzing with plans for tomorrow.

I awoke to the sun shining and a fresh blanket of sparkling powder covering the ground. I dressed quickly in my jeans, thick socks and my heaviest sweater to hurry outside, while adjusting my winter coat. The gelding waited for me at the gate, while I grabbed the halter to secure my willing mount before easily hopping on.

I rode bareback through the deep snow, the only sound being hooves sinking into the depths. Steamy breath exited our mouths in sync with each other’s heartbeat, quickening with anticipation of a gallop through the pristine landscape. At last, we reached the clearing, where we stopped for a moment to gather ourselves in preparation.

Hard muscles tensed in his back, getting ready for the start. I adjusted my seat on the thick, winter coat covering the horse beneath me. I grabbed a hunk of the dark mane before me. Once secure, I nudged the beast under me into action softly with my heels.

He sprung forward, kicking up sprays of belly-deep whiteness. My cheeks turned rosy with the cold air, and my eyes sparkled with the tears induced by the wind. I giggled with childish abandon, delighting in the fresh wildness of the new fallen snow.

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