Marshall was eating some grass, his long neck stretched to its fullest to reach the best strands of grass sticking up from the ground. His tail swayed with eagerness for the task before him. He moved up ever so slightly with his large draft body. The white stallion inched closer, his ears perking to the sound of a truck near the stables. He made whinny noises in frustration—another horse he'd have to put in its place. He thought to himself, "Exciting," he thought in his head. He knew he was the best; all the horses around feared him and looked up to the large beast he was bred straight from the UK, which made him the bestest. And the nicest show horse. Or so he thought at least he won rewards; he has many trophies and wins his owner lots of cash that was a prize to him.