dangerous at every speed

54%
Flag icon
We rubbed his long horse nose, his marble eyes turning to take us all in, to inhale us, to accept our now-selves and he was older, a wise, hoofed, grizzled, equine elder and I thought, this was what it was to be blessed— to know a love that was beyond an owning, beyond the body and its needs, but went straight from wild thing to wild thing, approving of its wildness.
Bright Dead Things
Rate this book
Clear rating