A Leap Over Fallen Bark

The wide gravel path stretched forward until a crooked oak branch barred the way. I halted three strides back, scenting the rough, bitter tang of damp moss and peeling bark. Lowering my head, I nudged the lichen-crusted wood; it lay heavy and unbudging. I drew back, shifted my weight over my hindquarters, and gathered momentum with two sharp, rhythmic strides. With a sudden spring, my hooves cleared the rough timber cleanly, landing on the firm, packed dirt beyond in a flurry of fine dust. I turned my neck, letting out a sharp, pleased snort at the obstacle left behind.