[puddssoul]

Her hooves thudded heavily against the earth as she panted, exhausted but happy. She loved running more than about anything. She danced across the grass with all the grace of someone who had spent the last few years of her life running every night. The determined race to beat the ground somehow, to pound it into submission as her hooves tapped out the rythm of her thudding, speeding heartbeat, that sort of thirst was absolutely unquenchable. She liked to think it was programmed into every foal from birth, that they opened their eyes longing to stand, and to walk, but mostly, to run like their ancestors had. To run like their parents did, like their grandparents did, like their siblings did. Running was pure exhileration, adrenaline pouring through her viens, and then she slowly stopped in the moonlight, letting the effects of it linger as her breath came out in little white puffs in the bitterly cold air that nipped at her white pelt and teased her as she galloped. She'd walk a few paces before finally stopping and smiling sweet victory, even though she knew she could never beat the ground, it was just like Anastasia said, when humans played ball against a wall. It was just training for bigger, better things. One day she'd race... and she'd win, and feel better than she ever had doing it.