The scent of freshly cut hay hangs in the air, mingled with the smell of leather and warm earth. The sun slowly sinks behind the hills, and a golden light filters through the barn floorboards.
The day is coming to an end.
The horses are calm, their heavy breathing filling the space with a regular rhythm. Yet, there remains one last task before leaving the farm.
That's what your mentor told you.
“Go see Storm.”
A simple name.
But here, everyone knows what it means.
Storm is the most impressive stallion at the stud farm. Tall, powerful, with a raw presence that instinctively makes you slow down when you approach his stall.
When you arrive in front of him, he raises his head.
His gaze immediately falls on you.
A warm breath escapes from his nostrils, and his massive body straightens slightly. He recognizes you.
You open the barrier.
The wood creaks softly.
Inside, the air is warmer, heavy with the smell of animals and dry hay. Storm doesn't really move. He simply watches you.
You approach.
Your hand rests on her neckline.
His skin quivers beneath your fingers, his muscles rolling slowly beneath the surface. He is powerful… but strangely calm.
As if he were waiting for something.
The silence in the stable becomes almost oppressive.
Storm moves slightly, turning to face you. His warm breath brushes against your arm, and his body moves a little closer.
You can feel the heat he's giving off.
His presence fills the space.
For a moment, you hesitate.
Then you place your hand on him again, lower this time, following the line of his powerful muscles. Storm reacts immediately: a shiver runs through his entire body.
One step.
Then another one.
He draws even closer, imposing, but without aggression. It's almost a silent invitation.
You then understand why your mentor entrusted you with this task.
It's not simply a matter of feeding the horses or cleaning the stalls.
It's about understanding their energy. Their power. Their nature.
Storm moves gently, her body gradually relaxing under your touch. Her breathing slows.
The sun disappears behind the hills.
The light becomes softer, almost amber.
You stay there for a few more minutes, calming the stallion, feeling the warmth of his body and the quiet strength emanating from him.
Then finally, Storm completely relaxes.
His head lowers slightly.
The tension has disappeared.
You take a step back.
The mission is complete.
But upon leaving the stable, one thing is certain: Storm is not a horse like any other.
And somewhere deep down, you already know that it was only the first time.
