“A horse blanket, Mel?I remembered what I was wearing. 'It tore in half when Hrani tried washing it. She was going to mend it. This piece was too small for a horse, but it was just right for me.'Bran laughed a little unsteadly. 'Mel. A horse blanket.”

“Then I lie down on the horse blanket and drift into a dream about Marlena that will probably cost me my soul.”

“You set us up!”“No! I swear—” Her face fell. “Mel. Mel must’ve told him.”“Right,” I grumbled. “Blame Mel.”

“There is no happiness like the pounding of so many horses into one. I imagine I hear the horses laugh. I think it every time. I think that running is the way a horse may laugh out loud. When I am older I will believe that following in their wake has filled me with the inconsolable joy of animals.”

“That's what I want, that kind of recklessness where the poem is even ahead of you. It's like riding a horse that's a little too wild for you, so there's this tension between what you can do and what the horse decides it's going to do.”

“If a prince on a white horse actually appeared in front of me...I think I'd like to see him fall off that horse. But..if he wasn't a prince on a white horse to begin with...what would I want then?”