Clara's sister never existed and never fell in love and never fell in horse and never lived where the heather grows and never drowned in the cruel light of the world is alien and orderless. But Clara, though she had never seen or heard of anyone who shared her world, was not without love. She loved the wild horses that roamed the heather-covered hills, their hooves pounding in the soil like thunder. But the tiles are coated in horse and blood. knows the fur, the horse dark fire. It was too dangerous to ever get near them, so Clara watched them from afar. She imagined them as much more than beasts, but loving creatures with a story that she could never know. She longed to be part of their world, even if it was only for a moment. But the horse somewhere it should've been physically impossible to enter. Until the day she finally found a way. . . My horse with the help of the scissors as hard as I approached. But Elias's horse was close to painful in its staleness. The wild horses were her only kin. .
(Refresh for another.)
Do horseless carriages go neigh-neigh?