Wynona

The morning sun stretched its golden fingers across the dewy pasture, setting the hills aglow and catching the delicate silver of spider webs spun in the tall grass. A cool breeze swept over the meadow, rustling the wildflowers and carrying with it the scent of honeysuckle and rain-soaked earth. Wynona stood in the middle of it all, tall and radiant, her flaxen mane cascading over her red roan coat like a banner of silk.

She blinked lazily at the horizon, one hind leg cocked in relaxed defiance of the world. Wynona knew she was lovely. She walked like the wind danced around her, tail high, mane flying, each hoof-fall deliberate, like she was born for the spotlight the sun gave her. And yet, there was kindness in her eyes—a soft, steady warmth that balanced the sass she wore like a well-fitted halter.

Rocky ambled toward her, ears flicking with curiosity, his coat a blend of smoky buckskin and stormy roan. There was a perpetual twinkle in his eyes, like he was always just a breath away from a laugh. His gait was unhurried, his steps carrying a bounce, and his nose reached out to greet her with an affectionate nudge.

“You’re late,” Wynona snorted, though her tone lacked any true irritation. Her upper lip curled, not quite a smile, but something close.

“I was admiring the sunrise,” Rocky replied, playfully bumping her shoulder. “It almost looked as good as you.”

Wynona huffed, her mane flicking to the side with practiced flair. “Flattery, Rocky? You must be bored already.”

“Not bored,” he said, stepping into a light trot, circling her once. “Just inspired.”

Wynona rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the twitch of amusement in her ears. She stepped forward, her hooves making soft thuds in the damp grass, and flicked her tail against his flank as she passed. “Come on, race me to the ridge.”

Rocky didn’t need to be asked twice. The two broke into a gallop, thundering across the meadow like streaks of fire and shadow. Wynona’s flaxen mane streamed behind her, catching the wind like flame. Rocky’s stride was longer, but Wynona was nimble, weaving through rocks and shrubs with elegant precision.

They crested the ridge together, breath hot and fast, flanks heaving with the thrill of the run. Below them, the valley opened wide, a quilt of green and gold stitched with rivers and dotted with copses of trees.

Wynona glanced at him, chest still rising with each breath. “Still think the sunrise looks better than me?”

Rocky grinned with his eyes. “No contest.”

She snorted, pawing the earth playfully. “You’re lucky I like you.”

They stood there for a while, letting the wind cool their skin, watching the birds wheel in the sky. A pair of blue jays chased each other through a clump of birch trees nearby, their cries sharp and full of mischief.

“Do you ever wonder,” Rocky said after a moment, “what it’s like beyond the hills? Past the woods? I mean, we’ve got everything we need here… but sometimes I think the wind is trying to tell me something. Like there's more.”

Wynona turned to look at him. “I think the wind always has something to say. But not everything it says is a command. Sometimes it’s just… dreaming out loud.”

Rocky flicked his ears, considering that. “So you’re saying I’m just a dreamer?”

“I’m saying you’re curious. There’s a difference.” She bumped her nose gently against his. “And that’s not a bad thing.”

He looked at her, really looked. “Do you ever want to go?”

She lifted her head, the breeze catching her forelock. “Sometimes. But then I remember how soft the grass is here. How the trees rustle like lullabies. How the creek sings at dusk. And how your jokes are terrible but somehow comforting.”

Rocky laughed, tossing his head. “Admit it, you’d be bored without me.”

Wynona smiled with her eyes. “Maybe. A little.”

A moment of silence passed between them, not awkward but full of meaning. Then Rocky stepped forward, his shoulder brushing hers. “Let’s stay a little longer. Here. In this moment.”

She nodded, resting her chin on his withers for just a heartbeat. “Just a little longer.”

As the day stretched forward, they wandered through the meadows, grazing in silence or playing tag between the trees. Wynona’s sass softened into contentment around Rocky, and Rocky’s playfulness grounded in her presence. They were different in their ways—she, a flicker of firelight and poise; he, a breeze with a joke in its back pocket—but together, they moved like notes in a song too old for words.

When dusk came, painting the sky with lavender and rose, Wynona stood on the hill again, watching shadows stretch across the land. Rocky lay nearby, one ear flicked lazily toward her, the other on a cricket chirping in the grass.

She sighed, not from sadness, but from the fullness of the day. The world didn’t need to be bigger, not today. Not when the wind spoke in gentle murmurs and the earth felt warm beneath her hooves.

And with Rocky beside her, nothing felt missing.