wishing I had time to stop and caress their shining faces.
“Hello, Pasiphae, you wonderful girl.”
“Lilith, you sweet thing, stop trying to pull down that hay net.”
“Heket, baby girl, you’re much too beautiful to look at me with such sad eyes.”
And on and on and on—stall after stall held mares that were examples of the very best of their breed. As I neared the end of the hall, the aisle took an abrupt turn to the left. But before I entered that special area reserved for Epona’s equine incarnation, I could already hear the restless squeals and pawings of the mare that stood out as exceptional, even in this group of the finest horses in Partholon.
Taking the left turn I entered an enormous rounded room that held a huge stall to which a private corral was attached. My husband and Dougal were standing in front of the closed stall, as were several rumpled-looking stable maidens. Their attention was focused on the neuroticacting mare who paced from one end of the spacious stall to the other.
Epi’s beauty was ethereal. Her coat was a mixture of gray and white, that blended to form an incredible silver color, which glistened like pooled mercury until it shaded to coal around her eyes and down her delicate legs. She was a nice-size mare, probably about fifteen hands high, and her confirmation was beyond perfect. I adored everything about her.
As if she had the ability to sense my presence (which, truthfully, she does) she spun around and locked her bottomless eyes on me. A full-throated neigh split the air between us.
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