A Slack in the Reins

The mountain air felt sharp and clear. Beneath me, the stirrup irons settled firm against my boots. I drew a breath, testing the quiet stiffness in my hands, then carefully loosened my grip on the braided leather rein. The brown horse shifted its weight, ears twitching back at the soft rattle of the bit. Beside us, our clasped hands rested easy in the midday sun. We held our ground right on the grassy path, steady under the wide open sky.