I lost a horse today.''That sounds careless. What happened?''She jumped off a cliff.''A cliff! Is that normal?

I say, 'I will not be your weakness, Sean Kendrick.'Now he looks at me. He says, very softly, 'It's late for that, Puck.

I whisper like the sea in the horse's ear.

In the sea, Corr’s clumsiness will disappear, his weight cradled by the saltwater. I don’t want to say good-bye. I blink to clear my vision and reach up. I pull off his halter. The ocean is his love and now, finally, he’ll have it. I back out of the surf. There’s a thin, long wail. Corr takes a labored step away from the November sea. And another. He is slow, and the sea sings to us both, but he returns to me.