The Sheltered Corridor

A canyon of upright hardcovers framed a narrow lane across the rug. I checked the perimeter first, testing the rough weave underfoot before stepping deliberately into the shadowed corridor between the clothbound spines. At the far opening, bathed in warm afternoon light, stood the familiar chestnut mare, poised as quiet and steadfast as ever. I rounded the last heavy volume with an easy, unhurried cadence and drew up beside her shoulder. With a gentle tap of my hoof against the floor, I settled into place, keeping a peaceful watch alongside her.