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ID-0273: PENDING TO NANCY

The morning sun hung low in the sky, casting long golden shafts across the inspection ground, but it offered little warmth as frost still clung to the edges of the grass, glittering like scattered glass, and the breath of every horse and handler hung in the air; soft white plumes that drifted skyward before dissolving into the blue. The ground itself was firm beneath worn boots, the cold having bitten away the softness of last week's rain, and hooves rang sharp and clean against the packed di...