Puck Conolly

Villa Cordova reminds me of the Malvern Yard. When I'd crossed its threshold, I'd immediately fallen in love with the scent of fresh hay, overturned earth, and horses. In this strange city, that scent is pure and familiar and I feel a thousand times safer. The cost to board Dove is a dear one and I'll need to find work soon, but I'm not sure I've ever seen her look so happy. Her stall is a little bigger than the lean-to and more sturdily built and the cost of her stall includes the nice hay, oats, and even some mash now and then and I can take her out as I please. 

I've just brought her back in for a run now. She's been curried and pampered and her stall's been cleaned but I can't help but linger. I miss being able to hear her through my bedroom window on quiet nights and it comforts me to stay. I think it makes her happier too. 

As I'm turning, I catch a flash of a red coat and my heart leaps. I have only ever seen one horse of that shade and I don't stop to think. I call out, "Corr!"