Alright. You hate me, I'm not too fond of you. It's mutual..." he muttered, walking hesitantly toward the stallion, hand outstretched, "I know you want to bite my hand off, but I swear I have no carrots, so you have no excuse. You want to throw me when I get on you...but if you even try, I will stab you.
Shanda Sharlow, The Psyonic
fantasy, horse, humor