"Ahhhhhh, now Mylord is finally realising the danger, huh?" Mari picked up her bag quickly, ran over to Zanor, grabbed a few streaks of his mane, hauled herself up, bent over and whispered into his ears.
"Ok, the race has begun, Zanor, don't lose track of that berserk there, please..." A jolt, a short whinny and the stallion galloped away, pursuiting Elendirill, whilst Mari was clinging desperately to his mane, ducking her head to avoid slashing branches.
On one hand she felt the excitement of wind, speed and Zanor's muscles moving smoothly under her, on the other hand she felt her stiffness and was a bit frightened, she could lose hold. And in all that, she felt her love and admiration for Zanor grow and laughed wildly...
