Novelas y relatos de Stallion Series

“A paint is a type of horse, like a bulldog is a type of dog.” “Oh,” he asked, staring up at Fiona. I rubbed her nose, letting her nudge against my neck. I liked to think it was her way of hugging me. “Fiona is a very good, gentle horse.” “What’s a boy horse?” I winced, not sure how to explain the details of that one. I was not about to tell the little boy about the castration of a male horse. That was a conversation left for his father. “Well, a young boy horse is sometimes called a gelding. An older, adult boy horse is sometimes called a stallion.”

There wasn't any other available vehicle since Heron had taken the sports car; he must have been given a task by Senyor Saturnino. It turned out that the horse stable was quite far from the estate. We passed by fields of rice, which seemed vast. Lazarus mentioned that we could have walked the distance from the estate to the horse stable, but he didn't want to because of the heat and dust. When we arrived at the location of the horse stable, I was left speechless. There were at least two stables, each consisting of ten stalls. One stable was for male horses, or stallions. They would use the stallions for breeding.

I stretch, pop on my powerbeats and set off on my run. How can I explain this? So, by now you know that I live on an island, what you don’t know is that this is MY private island. Obscured by magic to the outsiders, and with a 70% female population we are almost like the Amazonia’s. Powerful warrior women, full of knowledge and expertise. The other 30% is 10% children, and 20% male population. Don’t get me wrong we do get visitors, every 10-15 years a new batch of trainees arrive, all pre-teens, all with the dream of becoming scroll keepers. They are the most knowledgeable of our kind, for they study our history from the beginning of time. The Citadel, otherwise known as La Torre degl’ Illum

Aidan casually greeted some of them with small nods while Malikha continued staring around in amazement. Just how rich is this man, exactly? Malikha wondered silently. Aidan eventually brought her inside one of the stables and stopped in front of a magnificent black stallion. “This is Dante,” Aidan said proudly. “I bought him three years ago from an auction.” Malikha’s eyes sparkled instantly. The horse was breathtaking. His black coat gleamed beautifully under the stable lights, and his strong posture made him look both elegant and intimidating. Malikha slowly reached out her hand, wanting to touch him. Normally, Dante only obeyed Aidan and rarely allowed strangers near him. But the moment

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.

The wind moved through Wren Hollow like a whisper from the grave—dry, persistent, and full of secrets. It stirred the dust along the path to the cemetery, lifted the edges of black skirts, and rustled the cottonwoods that lined the ridge like sentinels. Gabrielle Moreau sat astride her horse, Raven, watching the mourners gather below. Her posture was straight, her face unreadable. But her eyes—dark, sharp, and unyielding—missed nothing.

I hear Keya gasp as she mindlinks me, ‘OMG, she heard us! God this is embarrassing. I told y’all to chill but you didn’t listen to me!’ Shit, we didn’t listen to her, ‘My bad Babe.’ I hear her sister ask, “Keya what’s a Stallion?” Keya just sighs exaggeratedly shaking her head. “It’s a large male horse, Fatt.” Annoyed she tells me, “ Just help me get them ready.” So I begin to help Fatt & Trell pack their bags for today while she gives Qwan his asthma treatment and cleans his nose which seems to be full or running all of the time. Then washes her hands to give Grammy an insulin shot in her stomach. And she reminds her to take her meds and check her sugar levels. “Yeah yeah I know.” Grammy gr

he reassured her but even as she looked into the black horse’s marbles eyes, she was scared. “I don’t think so, she doesn’t look like she likes me very much” she teased. “Nah… she’s just not used to strangers that’s all. Thunder you’re not a bad girl right?” Leonardo spoke to his horse a little more, the more he spoke the more exited the horse got. “So what kind of horse is she?” “She’s a black stallion, Texan bred-Arabian. Her previous owner lost all his money due to some gambling debt. When Thunder’s mother was sold, there was no place for her to go”

Roxanne changed quickly, her eyes shining with excitement. "You look beautiful in anything, my fair princess," Jaxon complimented her as she stepped out. He took her to the stable, where twenty horses of different breeds awaited. There was Sugarplum, a beautiful chestnut mare with a white blaze on her forehead, Noir, a sleek black stallion with a star-shaped marking on his nose, a proud Arabian named Zephyr, a gentle giant of a Shire horse named Thunder, and several others, each with their unique markings and personalities.

“Tell them what you bought her.” He sighed. “A new stallion. Big deal.” “Come again?” Alex asked, his eyes growing wide as he walked up to join the conversation. “You bought your thirteen-year-old a what?” Bob took his swing. The ball soared, arched, and landed right smack in the middle of the green. He came back to us, his club resting on his shoulder. “A stallion. You know? A male horse.” “Not just a male horse,” I said, shaking my head at the memory. “This damn horse was a breeding legend. Purebred, pure white stallion. The most beautiful coat you’ve ever seen. Long mane. Its offspring are all show horses, too. And the best part?”