Ariana's heart leapt in her chest as she shut her eyes tightly.
The wind slapped against her body, sharp and cold—a brutal reminder of the danger she was in.
"Mummy didn't mean any of this, child,"
She braced herself for the inevitable crash.
But it never came.
At the very last second, the horse veered sharply, reacting as if guided by instinct alone. Ariana gasped, clinging tighter. The movement was smooth yet fierce—controlled, not panicked.
Her hair whipped across her face, stinging her cheek. For a moment, it felt as though Snow—the—horse—was scolding her.
'Don't pull like that next time.'
Ariana's eyes flashed with disbelief.
This horse was truly something else.
She knew the horse was experienced—the way it turned so naturally proved it.
Ariana blew gently on her lower lip, trying to sweep away the hair that had slapped her face. She couldn't afford to take any risks by pushing her hair backward—no falling, no tumbling to the ground.
