Wolfy barely needed to make a sound. The second he gripped Tango's mane she was off like a shot, a streak of buckskin blazing past the two strangers. Wolfy laughed, leaning forward and letting the wind whip through his already messy black hair. "I guess that's 'go'!"
Tango let all the wild blood in her veins push her muscles, reveled in the pound of her hooves on the ground, the wind in her mane, the subtle sound of her tail cracking like a whip behind her. This was what she lived for, and every worry melted from her as she ran. As she soared. She was a thing of beauty.



