He was running.
Alone in a dead air place.
Running with only the sound of his hoof falls.
Sending up clouds of dust with every step.
He was running.
Dust swirling into shapes around him.
Shapes became cousins, siblings, strangers.
Shadows of former Kin, galloping beside him.
He was running.
Racing with the shadows that pranced beside him.
Playing with parents he did not know, mates he had yet to meet.
Shadows run silently in the dust where his hoof falls echo.
He was running.
They all were, and then suddenly they were not.
Companions slowly lost shape, returning to the ground as dust.
Alone in the dead air place with no shadows to dance with.
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