we can drive it home, <i>any</i> -- Open Meadow

He remembered this place, it had been so many years since he'd crossed into it. It was empty and quiet now, back then it had been a bustling and dangerous place, the grass was the sweetest here and humans crept in the shadows waiting to claim the most beautiful among them.
Vegas had been young then, barely a stallion. When he peered into the mirrored waters here it was a little surprising to see his mature bulk staring back at him...He could see in the back of his mind the coltish version of himself, high rumped and disheveled like young stallions are: old enough to be on his own, young enough to think he could take on the world.

It was here that he'd first met her, he was bold and brazen and hardly frightened by the smell of humanity on the air, she was lithe a beautiful and kindly curious about the bipedals that watched them as they spoke. He remembered fondly that sweet crescent marking on her forehead as he'd first seen it, the moment she'd given him her name and forever sealed his heart away, seared with a branding iron.

Now the ebony beast picked his way along the creek bank, tearing at the grass heartily, it was good to be home. The sunlight rippled over his pelt, highlighting the muscles as they coiled and relaxed with each little movement. catching on the white marking on his left shoulder. He'd spent nine years on this earth, but even so looked no older than six or seven, still vigorous as ever, given to dashing across the low open plains of the mountains like an overgrown colt. Sure he had his aches and pains, that leg he'd broken in his wolf form still bothered him when the weather changed but one wouldn't know it but for the limp he got when it was icy out. A bird erupted from the canopy of trees nearby and Vegas raised his head slowly, gaze calculating, nostrils flaring to sample any changes in the air.