Her nose flares, inhaling the pungent petrichor blanketing this odd stretch of flat forest. Her hooves slap the ground in an unsettling way. She’s used to spongy earth shrouding her steps in silence. Here, she is exposed. The wind ruffles her pelt instead of the trees. She flinches and smells the air. The scent burns.
Something further along these hardened woods zooms past her at a breakneck pace. Her eyes narrow, and she races toward the space where that vehicle used to be.
Except, she never gets there.
She hears it first.
The low rumble…
The crescendo…
as she
is
hit.
I’m a horse person.This was too painful a read for me. However, it does lend itself to a follow up or continuation of the story.
Pain aside, your descriptive words and imagery are outstanding. Great use of language.