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It was a beautiful horse. White as snow. Strong and proud. It was a war horse, meant to bear great weight. Yet it�s rider was slim. Dwarfed almost by the horse�s girth. Yet despite this, the rider shined. Golden hair, braided away from a finely boned face, toped a form that shouted warrior from the carriage of the shoulders down to the mud-splattered leather boots. A magnificent pair they were. Horse and rider in perfect tandem. In fact, so flawless a pair they were, that it was almost difficult for one to distinguish where the horse ended and the rider began. |
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