She stood at the stall of , a mare whose coat was the color of a bruised plum—dark, deep, and shimmering with an iridescent violet in the right light. Omitome wasn't a plow horse or a racer. She was a "Four-Stepper," one of the rare beasts rumored to be able to walk between the layers of the world.
Omitome’s hooves stopped splashing. Instead, they struck the air with the ring of a hammer on an anvil. They were rising, not into the sky, but into the Thinning . Elara gripped the mane, her knuckles white. She could see the village below, frozen like a fly in amber, every raindrop suspended in mid-air. Omitome_-_Girl_with_Horse_-_1-to-4_.zip
"One for the mud," Elara whispered, tightening the cinch of the worn leather saddle. Omitome let out a low, vibrating huff. She stood at the stall of , a
"Four for the soul," Elara choked out, her voice echoing in a place with no wind. Omitome’s hooves stopped splashing