Spirit Stallion 2 Novels & Stories

She was trying to steal away her life and her lover. The darkness in Stella's heart surged, but in the end, reason prevailed. She whistled, and upon hearing the sound, Juno immediately stopped its erratic movements. Running toward Stella, the horse demonstrated a remarkable level of understanding. While riding the horse, Stella kept a pace that matched Juno's. She yelled to Jaylene, "Don't just stand there! Grab the reins!" Still shocked by Stella's excellent riding skills, Jaylene only realized what she was shouting after some time. Clutching the horse's neck, she struggled to grasp the reins. Soon, Juno started leaping again as if deliberately defying her.

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.

All the prices were on the condensing plate. That meant that no one could just set the prices as they pleased. A lower-tier stall was worth 100000 spirit crystals, while a middle-tier stall was worth 150000 spirit crystals. Meanwhile, a high-tier stall was 500000 spirit crystals! Seeing the drastic difference in price, Rudy whispered, "A middle-tier stall is just a hundred and fifty thousand spirit crystals. A high-tier stall surges all the way to five hundred thousand! Isn't this difference a little too big? It's several times more! These prices are a little absurd, if you ask me!"

I asked, raking the nice beasts over in search of familiarity, trying to try and find humor where little lay, soft-voiced. He did not respond initially, his silence deafening, his face closed, showing he wasn't in the mood for talk. I walked over to him, my eyes scanning his locked jaw, and my heart sank. "I'll take Brown Starlight," he said finally, with a glimpse of a swift smile, leading a powerful chestnut horse. "Give me Thunder, White Wild Thunder," Sarah joined in, her voice cheerful, almost light, as she headed toward a white-blazed mare with a shiny coat, her pent-up energy pouring over the strain.

“I mean, come on. I love Cameron and all, but could Dillon BE any more perfect?” I giggled. Stella was right. Dillon was pretty perfect. I’d harbored fantasies of owning my own horse for an entire year after the visit that summer when I was twelve. Not only had Dillon remembered, he’d gone out and bought me a horse, just to make that fantasy come true. And not just any horse. A thorough bred, racing horse. “Which one is yours?” Stella asked as we approached the stands. All the horses were parading around the race track, the jockeys on their backs.

"Don’t even tell me, just remembering her words about leaving makes my blood boil and a bitter taste take my mouth." "We’re gonna make it, we’re gonna fix it and get her to the hut before the red moon starts." He nodded in agreement and I could imagine what was going on in his head, every day we were closer to the red moon which moved with all our wolf genes, leaving our bodies more thirsty each day, until the day that the moon will be in the sky, then it would be impossible to control this desire and every wolf with a mate would go into a trance, completely losing his reason and being taken only by desire.

Eden looked disapprovingly at Asher. “Someone has to. It might as well be me because we both know Blair ain’t saddling him anytime soon.” Everyone watched with bated breath as Asher saddled Comet. The stallion stomped his hoof once, but Asher placed a hand on his flank, and spoke soothingly to him. He led the horse out of the barn, his lips moving, but nobody heard the words. He gripped the horn of the saddle, and swung himself up. The horse snorted loudly, flicked his mane, and stomped his hooves.

“But I don’t need another jockey. I need stock.” Her stomach flipped. “Stock.” “Ponies.” He said it flat, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Human ones. Trained right. Broken right. Displayed. Raced. Used. My stable wins because my ponies *want* the bit between their teeth. They leak for the whip. They cum when the crowd watches them crawl.” Mia’s breath caught. She’d seen the underground forums. The private races where girls in full tack got paraded, plugged, fucked, and bet on. She’d touched herself to it more than once, hating how wet it made her.

Creed unintentionally caught them off guard and scared them with a sudden chase. Technically, Cursed Stallion should belong to 'Phantom' for killing the Malaka Chieftain, haunted along with everyone else. Fortunately, None of them knew Phantom's real identity, so it all worked out in Creed's favor. He had decided to reveal the Cursed Stallion as his mount on the hunt, whereas whenever he would mount the identity of a Phantom, he would just stick to his Inca Wings. Both of his personas now had their own separate and unique trademark modes of commute, which is exactly what he wanted others to see.

Commotion suddenly erupted near the racetrack. A dark horse blurred past at a gallop, its rider clad in professional equestrian gear moving with feral, razor-sharp precision. He hauled the stallion to an abrupt halt less than three meters from us; the black horse reared with a shrill whinny, splattering mud into Miller’s champagne flute. It was Caspian. He swung off the horse in a fluid flash of motion, ignoring Miller entirely to stride straight toward me. Sweat beaded his forehead, his eyes swirling with an unreadable emotion.