Oliver shifted his weight from all four of his legs to just the hind ones as he propelled himself over a snowbank, landing on the other side and nearly skidding into a tree. He began laughing, but felt foolish; one looks insane when one is laughing alone.
He had felt sheltered all of his life, as though there was a thin veil between himself and the outside world, and now was his time to make up for lost time by making some friends. It wasn't as though his father, Will, had held him back; on the contrary, Will had encouraged Oliver to leave their little two-legger residence and seek his fortunes elsewhere. But the young stallion was intent on staying under his favorite tree, reciting poetry and humming to the butterflies.
But the warm weather was long gone, the butterflies disappeared. Lonely, and slightly angry at himself for not making more friends, Oliver fled his tree without a backwards glance. Now he found himself even more alone, surrounded by dense nothingness that threatened to suffocate him.
Well, at least he could jump over this snowbank one more time.
