The Enchanted by Elaine Cantrell
Her chest filled with a pressure that threatened to choke her. The prince, her husband, did not want her.
She jabbed her heels into her mare’s flanks. The animal shot forward, giving Morgane the illusion that she could run away from all her problems. Leaning forward, she urged the mare on. The wind sang in her ears and the countryside blurred as she called on the mare for more speed. She heard Alan calling to her, but she refused to stop.
The mare topped a hill and started to slow down, but Morgane would have none of it. “Go!” she cried. She slapped the mare’s rump, and the horse plunged down the hill, setting off miniature landslides where her hooves dug in.
Surprisingly, they made it safely to the bottom of the hill. Morgane turned and saw Alan pelting his way down the hill on his big gray stallion.
She urged the mare forward and turned her toward the still forest on her right, the scenery blurring around her. I will not stop! The animal slowed a bit to avoid hitting trees, but she was still running which was the important thing.
Gradually, though, Etheswitha slowed down. Morgane wished they could have run forever, but she refused to kill her horse. She pulled up and dismounted so the mare could rest. She stroked the animal’s sweaty, white neck and cooed, “You’re a fine, girl, yes you are.” The mare snorted and blew.
After a few minutes Morgane noticed how quiet the forest was. She only heard the soft sighing of the pine trees as the wind rustled through them. No bird song reached her ears. It was dark here too. The trees were so think she was having a hard time even seeing the sky.
She shivered as a chilly breeze lifted her hair. Someone is behind me! She whirled around but saw no one. Wait! Did she spy movement through the trees? Is it Alan? “Alan!” she cried, but the prince didn’t answer.