Novel & Cerita Fallen Crest Horse

they finally found the perfect ensemble. Alex emerged from the fitting room wearing a tailored charcoal gray suit. The jacket had a slim fit, accentuating his broad shoulders, and tapered down perfectly to his waist. The pants were impeccably cut, giving him a sleek and polished look. Paired with a crisp white dress shirt and a sophisticated, deep burgundy silk tie, the outfit exuded confidence and authority. The final touch was a pair of polished black leather shoes that completed the ensemble, making Alex look every bit the part of a high-powered professional.

he replied without turning his head away from the lake to look at his teacher. “But, your highness, you haven't seen and don't seem to hear all of my explanation.” The handsome little boy rolled his eyes in exasperation. Then turned to the teacher. Then he recounted what the adult explained so easily and without a single mistake. “This horse is named Clairin, a horse of the Falabella race. She is about seven hands tall and two years and six months old. She is docile and likes to be stroked on the back of the neck,” explained Alessandro quickly. Ignoring the teacher he had just made gaping, he looked back at the calm looking lake.

15. Horse No. 15 trotted peacefully like it was taking a walk in the park. It ended up at the second to last place. That was only because horse No. 13 had hit its leg on the second last hurdle and fell. The final results were horse No. 8 in first place, horse No. 3 in second place, whereas horse No. 10 was in third place. Asher was excited. "Isn't No. 8 amazing? I told you, eight is my lucky number."

They averted my gaze and bowed. Luckily I didn't bump into anyone I didn't want to. In a few minutes, we were outside the stables. Orien was saddling a horse whose chest-nut color caught my eyes. Judging from its height, it was nothing less than sixty inches. I looked from its expressive head that went sideways every now and then to its broad forehead and prominent dark eyes to its upright well arched neck, its laid back shoulders, its not so long back, its well defined withers and its strong legs. Definitely a Morgan.

“Giddy up!” The horse obediently started a canter. On the horse’s back, feeling the wind in her face, Amanita slowly started feeling better. Their lesson that day was to ride through an obstacle course. Amanita had to guide her horse over three barriers. The difficulty was very high. When a barrier was right in front of her, her horse jumped up for some reason. While they were in the air, the straps of the saddle suddenly broke. Amanita fell from her horse out of nowhere.

There had to be at least thirty stalls total all immaculately kept with a variety of different horse breeds poking their heads through open stall doors. A coal black Arabian played with the ends of my hair while I stopped to pet a rust and cream colored Paint. But the most magnificent of all of the beasts in this barn was in the very last stall. Kingston, was an Eighteen hand Gypsy Vanner stallion, with a jet black coat and white dappling on his hind quarters. His mane and tail were snow white with his feathers matching. I stood back as Ronan opened the stall and led the massive horse out. I could tell just by looking at the two there was a long, loving history between the two of them.

I looked for him when I went down. “He’s in the stable.” Linden knew I was looking for Cenric. “Thanks!” I could see the stable from where I stood in the foyer. My excitement took the best of me. I sprinted toward the stable. Cenric was talking to the caretaker when I arrived.“Babe, meet your horse.” He was holding the rope of the most beautiful black horse I’d ever seen. Arabian. I opened my mouth to say something, but I just ended up staring at the horse. I touched his mane, down to its body. It was already attached to the saddle. I climbed up, and the horse did not even move.

"Then forget it!" He cut my words off, he didn't let me finish, and looked away from me with his face that was kinda offended, and it made me wonder if he was also trying hard to be my friend too, it looked weird, might be the most stupidest thing to ever assume, but I didn't wanted the conversation to just die this way, even though I wasn't sure of any single thing, so I parted my lips and chuckled out to ease the air "I have a horse back at home!"

“He paid me. He orchestrated the media hits. The poison - it was supposed to make you collapse, humiliate you. Proof you weren’t fit to lead.” I smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. “And where,” I asked gently, “is Nolan Crestfall right now?” The man’s lips parted. Then closed. Opened again. “I - I don’t know. He didn’t plan to attend tonight.” That landed harder than the name. Around us, wolves looked at one another. Because that was the part that didn’t fit. Crestfall never missed a Vale gala. Never. Cameron stepped forward then, fully into view, his presence snapping the room’s attention to him like a whip crack. Blood loss or not, wound or not, he radiated Alpha authority so clean and sharp i

She took a quick peek at the name plate, Moonfall, Jen and Greta, that warm feeling bloomed in her chest again and she revelled in it, it felt good. “Do you want to feed them.” came a voice from behind her. Jen shot round and saw a wolf with a bucket in each hand stood behind her. “Sure, I’d love to.” The groom let her into the stall and showed her where to put their food. She watched them laughing as they greedily tucked into their breakfast. My Goddess they were huge for foals, no wonder they had such a good appetite. Moonfall finished her breakfast and came to Jen for strokes as the groom told her about how they were lucky to have the foals as Jen, the older one was a breech birth.