Running. Galloping. Leaping. Hooves battering against the ground, dirt and leaves flying. Animals rattled, frightened. Some stunned into stillness. Warmth on its back. Wind screaming in its ears. The rhythm of the forest alive and well inside its chest. Breath, heavy, excited.

Lightness of heart.

Freedom.

At night, the whisperings were strongest. Dormant memories stirred. Vivid were the smells, the emotions, the splashes of color that saturated its mind in the darkest hours.

Come dawn, they quieted, growing muddled and twisted, until when it awoke, they had all but vanished.

What a shame, as it always listened when the whisperings called. For it was then, through them, it'd reclaimed a part of itself it had lost.