“Liza was twelve years old. She was strong and smart. She had long flowing hair which was often blown about madly by the wind. Sometimes her hair was tousled under a cowboy hat and sometimes she just pinned it up quickly in a barrette or with an elastic tie. She walked with a long confident stride. She had purpose in her manner. She moved with the sleekness of a mountain lion and had the strength of one too. She was a happy young lady, a pre-teen, but a young lady nonetheless.”
“The incredible creature that was nuzzling her was a strong ten-year-old quarter horse named Libby. Libby was a beautiful sorrel with white markings on her face just like a paint horse. She was 14.3 hands high and her body was all muscle. And she was a mare like no other. She was never mean. She was sometimes bossy to the other horses, but only when they asked for it. With her excellent quarter horse bloodlines, she was physically strong and confident, just like Liza was.”
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