By Jodi Huelin
It is time for this year's Pony Play! Cotton sweet is the director, and he or she may be operating a bit too not easy to make the play ideal. fortunately, she realizes little support from her associates is simply what it takes to place at the most sensible express ever!
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Extra info for A Pony's Tale (My Little Pony)
I had never seen her dressed so elegantly. This was how she looked the day she married my father, I was told. Then the women dug a hole in the ground and laid my mother in it. Beside her were laid her saddle, her food bowl, a cooking pot filled with water and mutton, and a block of tea leaves. I was glad at least that she would have food in the next world. Then a dun-colored mare and her nursing foal were led to the hole. With a strong blow to the forehead, each fell to its knees, dead. Both bodies were pulled into the hole and laid beside the body of my mother.
Until, holding my breath, I could slip into the night. Searching, my hands found thick mane, and I lifted my weight from the ground. Kicked wildly to free myself. Knees found their familiar niche behind warm ropes of muscle. An urgent whisper into the hollow of an understanding ear, and striped hooves carried me away. I don’t know across how many hills, beneath how many stars we sped each night. Bent over the horse’s powerful neck, my shoulders heaved with sadness, rose and fell with each thundering stride.
Dwarfed by the cart’s towering load, I sat with my back pressing into it, just listening to the farewell shouts, the oiled wheels creaking, the ox grunting. And thinking about prizes. My father was carrying home his prize. Hands upon the reins, he talked and laughed with his new wife, while her two sons sat wordless behind them. My father had been unable to award me. While a brief sadness darkened his face in the 48 Diane Lee Wilson telling, I had quietly sighed with relief. And for my own prize?