A man walked across the cracked, old driveway of the breeding farm from his truck. He was stout in build and had a slouching stature, a round, rosy-cheeked face long overdue for a shave, and he wore an oil-stained tee shirt, ripped jeans, a frayed straw hat, and scuffed leather boots. In his grasp, he held a thick rope, on the end of it was a gorgeous mare with a mane so long that it gave her a fairytale appearance, and a sleek pelt that wore colors of drab grays and black. Something about this horse was quite odd. It had not hooves, but claws; and instead of the dull, square teeth of a horse it had ivory fangs that hung slightly over her bottom lip. What distracted one from calling her a monstrosity was that she happened to be gifted with gorgeous, golden-amber eyes and an expressive face with sharply chiseled features. A smug smile touched his face as he glanced at the horse, and he thought he'd found the very first of a new species. Little did any of them know, there was an entire herd of them. Ghostherd.
A new teenage worker at the farm gaze in awe from afar as he lazily filled a horse's water trough with muddy water from the dirty, sun-worn hose, his mouth parted in a gasp.
The man stepped up to the rickety floorboards and knocked on the door.
