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Post by tingara on Feb 17, 2009 7:00:11 GMT
“Tingara, my name is Tingara,” the black stallion corrected. Who was this young stallion? He did not know the name of the king, something rare among the horses of the High Country. Also, how could he not see the mare had a herd? Tingara would have thought the foal at foot would have been a giveaway. Growing increasingly agitated with the foolish stranger, the black stallion snorted and lay his ears back.
As though reading the other’s mind, Tingara’s mind wandered to his daughters. “I am afraid that there are no mares here that you can take or that are old enough to go with you stranger,” the king bobbed his head in respect and stood proudly beside Crayola and his their daughter waiting for the new stallion to make his next move. Would he stay or go?
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