[center][b]United States 3:00 PM (CST)[/b][/center]
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The buckskin mare, which Reagan had nicknamed “Aja,” trudged on through the cold, her head low, her ears laid flat to her skull. The wind whipped her mane and tail violently, and she stretched her long, muscular neck out as she took each step forward. She embodied the look that one might expect from a human moving through the harsh weather, leaning slightly forward as if balancing her whole body precariously against the strong gusts of wind. The individual who sat in the saddle, however, was curled up into a ball. She had withdrawn her feet from the stirrups, and had curled her legs under her indian-style. It was an awkward position for a rider, but the deep-seated western saddle allowed the tall girl to cram her legs in with only a bit of discomfort. Eventually, her legs grew numb anyway, so it mattered very little in the end. Her heavy coat, which she was quickly learning was certainly not heavy enough, was then pulled over her crossed legs, allowing her entire body to exist in a cocoon of sorts. She was by no means toasty, but the position kept her a bit warmer. A less experienced rider might have struggled to stay atop the horse while riding this way, but Reagan had more than enough balance to remain seated. Now it was just a matter of keeping her face warm. She did this by hunkering down in her coat, pulling the ends up over her nose. Only her eyes were exposed, as a hood covered the top of her head. 

She spoke to no one, and no one spoke to her as a small group of other riders moved through the snow. It was a silence that made sense, as it was far to cold for her to pull back her coat from her face and start blabbing away. But it was also a silence that grew more uncomfortable as the time passed. Had Reagan stopped to really think about it, she did not know these people, or why she was out in the snow in the first place. But somehow, deep down, she felt that they were her allies, and she was where she was supposed to beYanking the edge of her coat even further over her face to hide any small expressions of pain, the girl thrust her body forward slightly, commanding Aja to walk on. 

Her seat in the saddle would prove extremely detrimental when the group was jumped by wild dogs. She had never experienced such beasts before, though that mattered very little, as she would have been no more prepared for what happened. When the great dogs leapt from the trees, Aja gave a shrill cry of surprise. Startled, the usually calm mare sidestepped suddenly, causing the confused Reagan fall to one side. Her hands had been pulled into her sleeves to keep them warm (she had simply draped the reins over the horn as she often did while having a relaxed ride), so she had no chance at grabbing something and holding on. Reagan gave a surprised cry over her own as she toppled from the horse’s back and landed with a hard thud on the frozen ground. She groaned, rolling onto her side and grabbing at her already bruising hip. She had taken worse falls, but there was nothing worse than the unexpected dismount. 

A low growl snapped her back to reality, and she looked up into the face of one of those dog things. Her heart leapt to her throat, and she grabbed for the small knife that always hung on her belt. She pulled it out, but as she met the gaze of the pony-sized beast, she knew she stood no chance. Just when Reagan was sure the dog would lunge on her, there was sudden blurred motion in front of her eyes. Aja, who had recovered quickly from the loss of her rider, had barreled into the dog, knocking it away from the fallen young woman. The beast was clearly stunned by the attack, and for a moment, he was still where Aja had knocked him onto the snow. But Reagan knew the shock would not last long. She took that opportunity to crawl to her feet, cringing as her body cried out in protest. She might have liked to lay there in the snow a little longer, but she realized she only had a few precious seconds left. When she turned back to the beast, she was disheartened to see that it had recovered faster than she thought it would. Now, it was crouched down, that same growl rumbling deep down in its throat, its hungry eyes on Aja. The mare stared back at him, ears laced back, tail flicking madly back and forth. Most regarded horses only as peaceful, flighty creatures. Those who had not ever seen a mare become separated from her foal, or two stallions competing for power among, would be blown away by what happened next. But Reagan had seen both of these things. And she knew that Aja would fight for Reagan, her filly. And she knew what the cost might be. 

Aja moved first, rearing back onto her hind legs, thrashing out with her front hooves. The dog took this opportunity to lunge forward, and unfortunately for it, right into the path of Aja’s falling front half. As Aja landed from her rear, she struck the dog with her sharp hooves. There was a satisfying crunch, and a dark red grove appeared over the dog’s right eye. It stumbled to the side, reeling from the unexpected attack. Like a drunken fool, it attempted to keep its balance as it took a few shaking steps forward. Reagan was pleased to see that the dog was injured, but upset to see that Aja was heading back for another go. 

“Aja, to me!” She cried. The mare slid to a halt and looked over her shoulder at the the young woman for a few seconds, as if determining whether or not she should do so. Finally, her training and trust in Reagan won out. She tucked her head down, kicked up her back legs in a final gesture of anger, and loped to Reagan’s side. When the girl looked back toward the beast, it had disappeared into the trees. Once the immediate danger had subsided, the woman looked around for the others. The attack had surprised them all, and she was not surprised that their own defenses had sent them in all different directions. She began walking, following the footsteps in the snow.