The wind whipped Sprocket’s orange and red mane, sending her ponytail flying into her face. The sturdy little pony kept her head down as she faced the gusts head on, gritting her teeth and steeling herself. A cold shiver slid down her spine, and she peered up at the sky. Dark tree branches clawed at the evening sky, and the full yellow moon seemed huge and spooky against the cloudy backdrop of sky.
If Sprocket had been the superstitious sort, she would have checked into the last hotel she had seen. But being the stubborn little filly that she was, she trucked on, and now she was entirely alone in the deserted path.
Above her, the clouds were thickening. A distant rumble of thunder echoed gloomily in the sky, and Sprocket swore under her breath. “Buck,” She snapped, “If I don’t get shelter soon, I’m gonna be stuck out here.”
The first few raindrops patted against her freckled nose, and she picked up her pace. This path had to end somewhere. It had to end in shelter.