Without a word I saddled Jasmine, our older mare. She’d gone a bit swayback by this point but still strode with confidence, especially in the mornings. I knew where my spirit was at; I’d need an old soul to temper the fire kindled by the moonlight.
I rode. The animal set the pace, a steady plodding. My mind raced, and my body ached to travel with more expediency. I let the deliberate steps of my ride reign in my tempestuous thoughts.
The wolf howled again, a beautiful song of unrequited love perhaps. Did wolves love? Did their souls yearn for another or just for the next meal? The idea was a diversion but a welcome one, the purpose of the outing.
Crossing the field by and by, I entered the woods via the old Creekside Trail. Before me lay a darkening expanse of raw nature. Behind me brewed a storm of man’s making, with a little help from a few select women folk.
I prayed the night to heal me.
I prayed the dawn to not hasten its coming.
I prayed the dark to take me.