She's the queen of the herd."	"May I touch her?"	"If she'll let you. She doesn't take to strangers well."	I took a hesitant step forward and reached out my hand. Terror approached me with confidence, then ducked her muzzle beneath my palm. Once she came closer, for a moment, I feared she was going to trample me. But then she brushed gently against my side.	"She wants you to ride her." Jockey looked at me. "This is an honor."	All thoughts of bailing out quietly went to hell with that statement. Why not? How often did you get a chance to ride a Night Mare?
Donna Augustine, Jinxed
urban-fantasy