“I could’ve sworn I saw it.” Charles grumbled, running his fingers through dark locks of hair. The winter air was frigid, it chilled you to the bones. Even the fire in front of you couldn’t ease the tremors which shook your entire frame.

But the steaming coffee was ambrosia in this undeniably record-breaking frost.

This white Arabian he was hunting was beginning to feel like legend instead of truth. After all, the enticing price for a wild mare seemed too good to be true.