Dapple nudged the barn door open and stepped onto the soft grass. The meadow smelled like clover and warm earth.
A blue butterfly fluttered past Dapple's nose and landed on a daisy.
Dapple followed the butterfly to the whispering creek. There, shivering under a willow branch, was a tiny foal.
Dapple approached slowly, ears perked forward. A blue butterfly flew between them.
Dapple offered a crunchy apple slice, but the foal turned away.
Dapple tried a silly snort, but the foal hid its face. Then Dapple heard a faint whinny and followed the sound through the tall grass.
The path led to a muddy patch. A tall horse paced anxiously, her tail switching back and forth.
The mother reared up, startled by Dapple's sudden appearance.
Dapple froze, hooves dug into the mud, breath held.
The foal scrambled to its mother and nuzzled her neck.
The mother lowered her head and gently nudged Dapple's shoulder.
Dapple's ears drooped, then perked up as the foal galloped back to play nearby.