A Bed of Silt

I followed the gentle slope down from the bridge until my feet sank into wet river clay. In the shallow bend where the water turned back on itself, a wide, flat slate flagstone lay submerged under two inches of clear, slow current. I paused at the brink, observing the fine ribbon of green moss swaying along its edge. Step by measured step, I waded out. The cool stream enveloped my lower legs, dense and soothing. When my front hooves reached the submerged stone, I let my entire belly settle onto its chilled, slippery plane. A tiny water strider drifted close, brushed against my grey flank, and pushed off into the reeds. I closed my eyes and let the current break softly against my chest, completely anchored in the cool flow.