It was a blue morning. The mountains around us pierced the blue sky like the jagged edges of a broken bowl. We were like tea, in that bowl, steeping in the warm air under the sharp sunshine. Steeping being the order of the day; I wandered around barefoot through the alpine meadow. Climbing on rocky outcrops just to perch and stare into the blue. Or to curl up in a nook of rocks and stare in awe at the lichens and succulents. The air was sweet and sun-soaked. Singing birds were the only sound.
Eventually ending up back at the campsite, we both stretched out on the grass dozing off. Until I heard a strange sound vibrating under my head; a deep rumble. I sat up hazily and looked around. Everything still looked lazy and blue. But the sound was gaining in intensity. Then over the crest of the hill, I saw a bobbing wave start to grow. When my eyes finally grasped what I was seeing, my heart leapt into my throat as I simultaneously leapt to my feet, screaming GET UP! GET UP! GET UP! Rushing, galloping towards us was a herd of horses. About twenty or so. With nowhere to run to, we just stood, our backs against the tent, facing the oncoming horses.
My heart was pounding in time to the pounding of the horses’ hooves. Suddenly as if on a signal, only 5 feet from us- they abruptly stopped. They encircled the tent and stared at us with big eyes. After a 30 second stare-off that felt like eons, a few of the horses in the back of the group turned as if having lost interest and started sniffing around our campsite. A few of the horses however- the ones closest, pressed in. As the initial shock began to subside, I walked closer the black mare who seemed to be sort of leading the group. She had a rather tall colt hiding back off to her side who was watching us curiously but avoiding eye-contact. Slowly, I reached out my hand and began to pet her. She was accustomed to people and searched my hands as if looking for snacks. Even tried to look in the tent. We began to sort of gently push them away from the fire-pit where they were stomping around and turning over pans looking for the remnants of breakfast. Whenever we nudged them, they nudged back.
I finally put my arm over the black mare’s neck and started nudging her toward the lake, hoping she would draw the rest of the horses with her. It worked… We sauntered down to the crystalline lake, walking side by side, my hand in her mane.
At the water’s edge the horses broke off into smaller groups and seemed to become playful; prancing around, drinking water, rolling in the grass. The black mare followed me wherever I wandered to, staying about 6 feet away.
I sang to her, stooping down in the grass and to make flower crowns. One for her, one for me, and one for the colt. I couldn’t get anywhere near her colt though, so she ended up wearing both of their flower crowns. I braided her mane in a dozen braids and sang as many songs as I could think of while she grazed around. Other horses would wander up as if wanting to join the fun, but the black mare would push them away.
After a long, magical hour in this seemingly fairy-tale state, she finally decided it was time to move on. She made some signal and started to walk down the path leading back down the hill. The other horses moseyed behind her. I walked with them for a ways, finally allowed to pet a few of the others.
At the bottom of the hill I stopped as they turned to head back over the saddle of the mountain into a different valley. The black mare turned and looked at me for a second, shook her mane and then they were gone.
