Hunter slowed as he drew near and held out the line to…

““Hunter slowed as he drew near and held out the line to her, his dark eyes gleaming in that way she had once found so unsettling. Now she realized the gleam was only a smile that had not yet touched his lips. As her fingers curled around the rope, she looked up. “He’s beautiful.” “When the sun rises, we will ride for your wooden walls. He will carry you.” Taking her hand, Hunter stepped to the stallion’s head and lifted her palm to his velvety muzzle. “Give him your smell.” The stallion snuffled and nibbled her fingers, grunting a greeting. “He’s so beautiful, but after what happened to…I can’t ride him. I’d never forgive myself if something went wrong. I felt so--” She broke off and licked her lips. It hit her that she had never apologized to him for killing his horse. She should now, but so much time had passed, and she wasn’t sure what to say. “My heart is still sad about your stallion. I wouldn’t want something to happen to this one.” “It is finished.” His face tightened as he spoke. “This stallion says hi, hites , how are you, my friend.” He ran a muscular arm around the black’s neck, moving in close to his shoulder. “He is son to my friend who is dead. Breathe into him so he will know your smell and remember with no horizon.” The thought of kissing a horse wasn’t particularly appealing, but after witnessing the Comanche’s rapport with his other stallion, she couldn’t argue that he knew better than she how to communicate with them. She bent over and exhaled close to the black’s muzzle. The horse sniffed and nibbled her face, nickering and blowing. Loretta gave a startled laugh and reared back, scrubbing her mouth with her sleeve. She glanced up to find the Comanche smiling. Her laughter trailed away, and she felt suddenly self-conscious. His large, sandpapery palm still enfolded hers, and the contact made her heart skitter.””

— Catherine Anderson