The weekend of the Havenwing Ball arrived. Usually when I returned to Uncle Oruc’s and Aunt Monria’s house after school each day I took time to join my aunt for tea or, if she was otherwise engaged, took tea by myself in the library with a good book to refresh me after my day’s work.
But on the Friday before the ball I raced directly to my room, hastily changed into riding clothes, and rushed to the stables, where that morning I had left a special request with the stable master to have two horses saddled and waiting.

The next week passed quickly. My pupils were settling into their lessons quite well, and I was beginning to feel more at ease in the role of teacher. On the last day of the school week, I received my first evaluation from the school board. I had known it was coming and its approach gave me no end of anxiety, but nonetheless I was delighted to find that the board had ranked me favorably in all areas. I promptly sent their report home in a letter to my family.

I was far too tired to stay awake, but the tipping and jolting of the carriage combined with my fear prevented me getting any sleep. So, as the brougham made its way through the darkness, I curled up against the bulky pack of my belongings and closed my eyes, pretending to rest.

I tried to think about Havenwing. It was safe there. There I would be beyond the reach of the wild country and the creatures that inhabited it.

       Bitter wind was tugging at Adelaide’s hood and lashing her hair round her face. She was sitting in front of Lawrence on a grey warmblood. He was plunging through the deep drifts of snow at a great pace and smoothly passing over rifts and inclines of the land. Lawrence had both hands on the reigns while supporting Adelaide by his arms.  The saddle on which they sat was large and made of fine leather. It was black and simple but strongly made. Adelaide had both her feet secured to the stirrups by straps that Cosmas had attached.

The horse ran through the field, his long black mane shining in the sunlight. It was a tall beast, with a broad chest and delicate lags built for speed. Its chestnut coat, dark mane, and arched neck seemed better suited for a royal procession than hard farm work. The horse had been bought with the understanding that he would work for his feed, but the boy watching him had often dreamed of riding his horse across the finish line of the kingdom’s most prestigious race. Gerhard leaned against the top post of the split rail fence and watched his horse.

Author's Note: I found out about second person from reading Writing Magic by Gail Carson Levine (BTW, anybody should definitely read it!) It's a very interesting point of view. Oh yeah, and sorry it's so short! First attempt at second person =D Hope y'all like it!

A Moon That Shines Brightly
By Falling Leaves

She was a palomino quarter horse. The lead mare of the herd, they told me. At that moment it meant nothing to me. Nellie looked just like any other horse that I have seen.