ROSIE’S GIFT BY SHARON EAREY
THE little chestnut mare watched her breath swirl in the cold, frosty air. She was elderly now, living a quiet life, well, if you could call it that. She was nanny to two dressage horses, all long legs and big ideas, always banging on about half-passes. Still, it had its advantages – deep straw bed, warm stable, nice rug, plenty of food.
Something was different today; she could smell it in the air. Her coat had been brushed until it gleamed, her feet carefully oiled and her mane and tail meticulously combed. Just like the old days when she was a show pony. Apparently, she was going on a journey. There had been lots of journeys in her old life. Show rings, rosettes, adventures but…