Anastasia pelted across a field of purple sage, her mare’s hooves churning up a mist of lavender that floated in the air behind her. She leapt down and began to run. I did the same. We met in the middle of the field, in an ocean of purple with papery white butterflies fluttering all around us. She ran to me, her whole face illuminated with a wild happiness that caught me like a whirlwind, so I swept her up in my arms and swung her around.
