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She woke from dreams of running the fields with the black horse beside her. It was spring and the air held a luminous glow of power and happiness. Birds called, filling the air with the music of hope and Surakha's blood sang with the glorious thrill of the chase. Their path took them towards the banks of the river and she tensed, ready to turn. The black horse bunched powerful muscles and arched into a graceful leap to the far bank. Surakha turned sharply, skidding in the grass as she tried to change direction and stay dry. Her hindquarters went out from under her as the edge of the b