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Rick wasn't a fan of ravens. They were loud, they always watched you, and they were too damn smart for their own good. Unlike seagulls who tried to walk right up and grab your food from your hands, ravens were crafty and would wait until you were distracted to grab what they wanted. Even worse - sometimes they teamed up on you and caused the distraction themselves. "Easy Red," Rick said, patting the chestnut stallion's neck. "It's just some birds. Once we get out from under these trees...

Red Wolf stood stock still, staring into the hollow spaces where the creature's eyes should have been. Every muscle of his body was tensed, his nostrils flared, and his deep chestnut tail was held high. Cautiously, the horse took a step forward toward the creature, calling out to it and pricking his ears as far forward as they could go while he waited for a response - but none came. The only sound around him was the gentle breeze through the swaying corn stalks and hay. Another s...

Gravel crunched under Dawson’s boots, each step bringing him closer to the overfilled pens of the sale yard. Dawn was playing at the horizon, but had yet to break, and, except for a particularly ambitious rooster crowing, the animals held there had yet to stir from their slumbers.  “What did she say she was looking for again?” The man asked, voice heavy with sleep. Only ten minutes prior, he’d dragged himself...

The trouble with flipping horses was that sometimes they didn’t flip well. You invested the cost of acquiring and caring for the horse, the time to train and keep them healthy, but there was never any surefire guarantee that you’d profit from it. Some horses up and died on you, inevitably you’d end up keeping one or two over the years, and, worst of all, some just wouldn’t sell. Red Wolf, a chestnut Loshenka stallion with eye-catching pangare markings, ...