“Sugarbit, slow down!” My white and chestnut-spotted mare had been spooked, undoubtedly by some hideous varmint.
“Whoah, whoah,” came my father’s deep voice as he rushed up behind us. “Sugarbit, halt!” With an abrupt jolt, my horse came to a stop.
I pushed my blonde, tangled hair up and out of my face, “Thanks, Da! I dunno what got into ‘er. Musta been a fox on th’ moors.”
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