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"I'm all right," she replied, her eyes downcast. "So what's your name, anyway? I'm Aphrodite," she said as she pulled at a clump of clovers that sat alone among a field of grass.
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"I'm all right," she replied, her eyes downcast. "So what's your name, anyway? I'm Aphrodite," she said as she pulled at a clump of clovers that sat alone among a field of grass.
"I am Antoinietta. It is a pleasure to meet you." She said with a toss of her dazzling white mane.
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"Yes, he is under the Willow, over there." She said warmly in her Araibian accent.
"Thank you, m'lady," he said, dipping his head and trotting in his high-carried gait near the Willow tree. The Percheron's hulking form stood, casting a shadow over Flip as he awaited a response to his presence, the chocolate mare soon following behind once she broke her unblinking stare at the playing foals.
"I presume you are the leader?" he asked, calmly, steadily, but his expression was aloof and his gray eyes would now and then shift to the other horses, as though expecting something to go wrong. The mare tossed her mane, her unusually long ears flopping this way and that before settling into place. She smiled politely at Flip, but winced when her rope halter chafed her muzzle slightly. "We've got to get that thing off of you," muttered Roy in a hushed tone, worriedly glancing at the mare.
Flip gazed up at the Percheron. I'm getting too old for this, he thought. An Arabian is just too small a horse to be lead stallion, never mind an old one.
"I am," he answered aloud, his voice stiff. "Who are you and what is your business here? Have you come to join the herd?" Although Flip's natural sixth sense told him the stallion had a good heart, he was wary of any males, let alone large, intimidating ones. He made a mental note to be extra careful when consorting with draft horses. Aaron made him nervous as it was.